Biscuits anyone? Biscuits soaked in butter but light as air, biscuits covered in white sausage gravy, seasoned with salt and pepper and whose sole purpose in life is sopping up the remains of shrimp and grits and she-crab soup, biscuits so good they’ll make you sit up and “slap your momma” (to quote the ever sassy Paula Deen). Again I ask you, “Do you want a biscuit???” If you do, it’s time to head down south to good old Charleston and rustle up a few, because wherever you go, there the biscuits are.
Our trip to Charleston, South Carolina was a success on many levels. The primary reason for the journey was Axis’ production East 10th Street featuring in the Spoleto Festival, but just because it was a “working” vacation doesn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of time for play. For months we had been looking forward to the trip with Brian researching local attractions to visit and me being consumed as always with culinary adventures. Of the foodie nature there were many adventures to be had, but with so few days (for me in particular), it took a concerted effort to economize, only going to places recommended by friends without wandering into the myriad other restaurants and cafes our noses and eyes were pulling us to.
There is no way I can say Southerners aren’t hospitable. No matter where I went there was someone saying hello, waving, tipping a hat or stopping to exclaim how cute they found Siena. I certainly can’t begrudge them that, but I forget how friendly and open people can be outside of NYC. Don’t get me wrong, I love those “keep to themselves” people I take to the streets with everyday, but how refreshing it was to look people in the eye without thinking they might ask me for money. The thought of simply pulling up a chair and sipping a mint julep with these fine folks was not out of the realm of possibility except for the fact I only had two full days in the city and many things I wanted to see.
We had to begin by eating because I was starved from rigorous airplane travel. My longtime friend, Lisa Schwartzkopf (Ermold) recommended a great place to get the aforementioned she-crab soup and shrimp and grits: 82 Queen. The restaurant serves low country style cooking with hearty meals high in calories and flavor. The gang ordered their Maker’s Mark mint juleps and the afternoon was set for fun. While waiting for our food to arrive, the first round of heavenly biscuits arrived on our table. These yummy morsels were truly so light they could have floated off the table. Whoever was preparing and handling the dough in the kitchen must know what they are doing. It seemed as if human hands had barely touched them at all and I’ve never seen a biscuit less “overworked” in my life. They were brushed with butter before baking and served with another heaping bowl full of butter on the side…just the way I like it.
Returning to our hotel, the beautiful Wentworth Mansion, we took a long drive around the peninsula and to some outlying islands trying to cram in as much sight seeing as possible. The hotel itself is a landmark, having been around since 1886 in various incarnations, surviving fires and earthquakes to find itself lovingly restored and taking patrons looking for a romantic and historical weekend getaway. They also serve a mean breakfast; with you guessed it, biscuits!!! Our favorite part of the hotel was the cupola on top. Commanding one of the best views of Charleston (360 degrees), we retired for drinks around 6:00pm every evening to relax and unwind before dinner. Regardless of the heat outside, it was cool and breezy up top as the sun set on the stately old homes of the city.
We also saw many other intriguing exhibits and creatures including an albino alligator, black light filled containers of jellyfish and a hugely magnified home to seahorses. Brian loved the seahorses most because it’s the males of the species who carry the babies. Siena seemed in awe of the fish in the Deep Ocean exhibit. The monsters swam by the giant glass window spanning several floors. The monsters, to me, were of course sharks because I have an irrational fear of them thanks to Jaws, but all the fish swimming with them were huge and I’d never seen such giant fish up close and personal before. It only took a couple of hours to see the entire space, granted we didn’t read a ton of information, but was certainly a worthwhile stop on any trip to Charleston. Grabbing a quick hotdog (no, sadly not a biscuit) we were off to the next, and in my humble opinion, the most exciting part of our vacation: The historic homes tour with Linda Wohlfeil Jones.
I walked into the parlor of the hotel with Siena and Brian in tow to find Randy, Lynn and our other friend David already engaged by this very animated, striking woman named Linda. She was a Charleston native, born and bred with family scattered all over town. Some of her kin had a beautiful home along Rainbow Row, which we will come to, as well as other family members owning one of the carriage ride businesses transporting visitors all over town. If you have ever seen the 80’s television show Designing Women
…one of my other favorites, then picture Julia Sugarbaker giving you a driving tour of historic Charleston with Brian as the chauffeur. Julia (played by Dixie Carter) was always the fiery, sassy, smart and most opinionated of all the women in the show, the one with the most class and an air of knowing a dirty secret or two that she would never divulge for fear of disgracing her honor or causing you, the listener, to blush. Linda our tour guide was exactly that, at least as far as I could tell from the couple of hours I spent with her.
Rarely do I come across people so passionate about what they do, someone who is great at their job, an effective communicator and someone who inspires you to be as interested in a particular topic as they are. By the time we were done driving around and listening to Linda I felt like I needed to purchase every conceivable book on Charleston I could find and immerse myself in the lore and grandeur. For every home, manor, mansion, plantation, garden and or street we went down, Linda had a story, and not just a story but some tale of architecture peppered with history and love, feuds and famous figures from our not so distant past.
One of the most amazing things to me about Charleston was the fact that its architecture is intact. Thankfully, Sherman’s march during the Civil War didn’t come burning through this town and though it has been challenged with large fires and earthquakes in it’s past, the city has survived and thrived. There is a strong presence of a preservation society, which to this day keeps all building modifications and construction under close scrutiny and no one is allowed to build any structures taller than the church steeples, of which there are many. Charleston was apparently quite the destination for those yearning for religious freedom and at one point in its history any group of seven people or more choosing to believe in the same thing could start their own church. That’s a whole lot of praying going on.
We dawdled along many streets that seemed like they should be out of a film set. The splendor of the homes, particularly the large old mansions of Rainbow Row were simply insane and luxurious. The only stop we made was into the Nathaniel Russell House, a home known for being the quintessential specimen of Federal architecture. Another woman gave us the tour of the home, and though the manse was lovely, her recounting of facts didn’t do the place justice and bore no resemblance to the passionate tales Linda, our guide was giving us. If anyone is traveling to Charleston and wants Linda’s info, I have her card and email address, but in the meantime I hope she starts writing a book…it would be endlessly fascinating!
Being around someone this passionate can only inspire creativity. She made me want to change my whole life, uproot and move south and open a small, little bakery on a secret cobblestone street with an attached garden. But in lieu of action on such an outrageous fantasy we decided the next best thing would be a nice dinner out at a place aptly name Magnolia. Magnolia is the famous bakery in NYC known for its cupcakes, and gained prominence via Carrie Bradshaw and Sex and the City
. Magnolia in this case is a family restaurant with down home southern cooking, and I mean the serious kind. Linda advised us to order the freshly fried potato chips topped with blue cheese, and the rest goes downhill from there.
I had a mound of homemade pimento cheese, similar to what mom used to buy in the grocery store when I was a kid. Pimento cheese on crackers, or in this case pita is a naughty luxury item that reminds me of home. But the dinner was the kicker, I went for it as they say; fried chicken, pepper biscuits (yay, biscuits!!!), mashed potatoes and white gravy, collard greens and a creamy, gooey bread pudding for dessert. I dare you to find a more southern meal, and I dare you to eat it if you happen to be on a diet. Though there is nothing pretty about the calorie count, these items are southern and midwestern staples for a reason…they taste so good!!!
It’s hard to believe I only had two days in this charming city and would gladly return for a week at the minimum, to explore, tour more homes and eat myself into a fried sort of coma. I haven’t been so inspired by visiting a new place in a long time and forgot how much fun a vacation can be. Siena absolutely loved it, plane rides included and she seems to be well on her way to being a good traveler, up for anything as long as she can sit and look at trees and go where people will tell her what a cute baby she is.
Coming home and heading back to reality is never easy, especially after such a fun couple of days, but the week moved by in a flash (as most seem to with a five month old) leading us to Father’s Day weekend. Brian and I were astonished at the number of gifts and well wishes we received over the weekend. To us, it seemed like it should be an ordinary day, not a big deal, a day we send gifts to our dads and certainly not a day where we would be celebrated. How the heck did we become fathers???
The weekend was sunny but pleasant and we made a long overdue trip to Connecticut to visit my cousin Kevin and his three daughters. Before we ever found out about Siena’s impending entrance into our lives and the whirlwind that came after, Kevin and I had talked about going over his home with an eye toward design. The mission was to look at the yard, making plant suggestions (something I love to do) and take my Benjamin Moore fan decks of paint chips and make some decisions about colors for the inside of the house (also something I love to do).
The girls all played nicely together, keeping Siena entertained for a couple of hours while Kevin, Brian and I talked life and design and grilled some chicken outdoors. It was a perfect summer day for a barbeque and I could think of nothing better to finish off the meal than a blackberry cobbler, the topping in this case being made of none other than BISCUITS!!!! After such a southern biscuit-eating weekend, I had to find something biscuit related for this week’s pastry offering. Kevin has a deep love of cobbler, particularly blackberry, so I marched myself to the market, got some blackberries (I know it’s a little early for them so file this one in your rolodex for a goodie to make in July) and found a recipe for Best Berry Cobbler featuring a biscuit topping. The recipe is from (who else?) Martha Stewart and is as follows:
Best Berry Cobbler
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
3/4 cup cold heavy cream, plus more for brushing
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 cup sugar, plus more if needed and for sprinkling
3 tablespoons cornstarch, plus more if needed
6 cups (3 pints) blackberries or raspberries
Vanilla ice cream, for serving (optional)
. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Pulse flour, baking powder, and salt in a food processor until combined. Add butter, and process until mixture resembles coarse meal. Transfer mixture to a large bowl, and add heavy cream in a slow, steady stream, mixing with a wooden spoon until dough just comes together. Divide dough into 9 pieces, and loosely form each into a ball.
. Whisk together cinnamon, sugar, and cornstarch in a bowl. Add berries; toss gently to coat. Transfer mixture to an 8-inch square-baking dish. Top berries with dough balls, spacing evenly. Brush dough with heavy cream, and sprinkle with sugar. Bake until berries are bubbling in center and biscuits are golden brown, 45 to 50 minutes. Transfer dish to a wire rack, and let cool slightly, about 30 minutes. Serve with ice cream if desired.
Cook's Note:
The amount of sugar and cornstarch needed will depend on the sweetness and ripeness of the fruit. Taste the berries. If they are sour, add an extra 1/4-cup sugar in step 2. If juicy, add an extra 1-teaspoon cornstarch. To catch any juices that may bubble over when baking, place the baking dish on a rimmed baking sheet or lay a piece of foil on the rack below the cobbler.
I admit to a slight modification in the biscuit preparation. It calls for rolling the dough into balls, lightly handling the dough and dropping them onto the macerated blackberry filling. I was after something a little more formed and presentable so I rolled out the dough to about three-quarters of an inch thick and cut out nine squares with my fluted square biscuit cutter. The shape looked so nice in the square pan and elevated this rustic dessert ever so slightly. After cutting out the dough I allowed it to sit on a sheet pan in the freezer for 15 minutes before putting the biscuits on top of the fruit and baking. Though I may have lost a little in “rise” from rolling it out, I made up for it in shape with the dough holding those fluted edges quite nicely. The berries were still a bit tart so I added an extra half cup of sugar, but if you wait and make this next month when the berries are fully sweet and falling off the bushes you may not need to do this.
By the time Father’s Day rolled around we were exhausted, but had committed to going to the New York Botanical Garden with our friend’s Jonathan, Izabella and their daughter Mia. I’m so glad we pulled it together and went because it was another amazing late June day. The show Spanish Paradise: Gardens of the Alhambra is currently running through August 21, 2011 and was the main draw for our adventure. This display of Spanish/Mediterranean flora is being held in the giant conservatory on the 250-acre property, and though we found it beautiful, we also found it incredibly crowded as apparently every other dad had come out to the garden on this special day to see the spectacle. I’m more of an English Country garden kind of dad, so I was happy to discover not too far from the conservatory what was called the Poetry Walk.
The Poetry Walk is full of some of my favorites such as hydrangeas, tall grasses, roses, herbs and many other gentle, pastel colored flowers famous from the English countryside. Dotted along the walk are sixteen poems pertaining to the garden and make for a lyrical stroll through thoughtful plantings. There was even a section with a small hedge maze as well. If I had tons and tons more room in my backyard, this walk would certainly be an inspiration to borrow from. Luckily I’m all out of room in my backyard otherwise I would have gone directly to the garden shop and purchased as many hydrangeas as I could find. Not only are they long lasting, but so full and light and delicate with color shifts and such a long bloom time. They are my number one “go to” plant to fill in spaces and make hedges to hide yourself from the neighbors.
After Izabella and Jonathan left, Brian, Siena and I stayed on in hopes of seeing more of the garden, the parts not so populated with Alhambra crazed citizens. After a light lunch at the café (no biscuits were involved, and my waist line thanks me) we decided to try and find the rose garden. My love of roses couldn’t be further expanded upon in this forum if I tried, but needless to say my desire to find the garden was strong, especially now because before long the first June blooms will be but a memory.
We strolled along Azalea Way (the sweet name of the road) through giant old trees with under-plantings of hostas, ferns and astilbe. The sun was low enough in the sky to send golden rays scattering across the lawn and plants, giving a magical glow to the forest path we were walking upon. Through the woods and over the river, not to Grandma’s house, but across the Bronx River that runs through the middle of the garden. And what should our wandering eyes spy but the most beautiful stone mill nuzzled up to the river with a wedding about to begin. Brian and I both love stone houses, and this mill was exquisite. Upon further inspection (we crossed the bridge and had to make our way to the mill) we discovered it’s a building that can be rented for large events and all proceeds go to help a children’s hospital. I’m not sure how much it would cost to rent out, but what a place to have a wedding reception!!!.
Barely able to pull ourselves away, we finally made it to the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden. Cresting the hill just beyond our mirage-based mill, the garden spread out before us in all its glory; red, pink and yellow as far as the eye could see. The sight was stunning and took my breath away in its unexpected vastness. I’ve never seen such a rose garden. We worked our way down the long path…the way for road weary travelers with strollers, coming up the back entrance to the isles and isles of blooming bushes. The garden was closing at this point and I had to hurriedly make my way through with a few quick snapshots and the briefest moments for the necessary stopping and smelling. Plus, the sun was beating down on both Brian and Siena and it was time to wrap up our long weekend and collapse in the air-conditioned living room at home.
When I see a gorgeous flower, a light flakey pastry or a leaf-strewn sidewalk I naturally want to capture it with my eyes and my camera. I want to share what I find so extraordinary with others. There is nothing that compares to that moment of discovery, and no matter how many photos I take I’m often left with disappointment, the camera not quite capturing the joy in my experience. But every so often, one or two pictures do come out, do speak to the experience and share a feeling captured for as long as the image exists. All I can say is thank goodness for digital cameras, not only do they provide instant gratification but also are saving me from going into the poor house with fees from film development. The camera makes it easy to capture an image, but savoring a moment is an entirely different thing. Retaining that special moment is even more precious and worth stepping out from behind the camera from time to time. But my, my, how I do love to take pictures of a flakey biscuit! It’s just who I am.
The Poetry Walk is full of some of my favorites such as hydrangeas, tall grasses, roses, herbs and many other gentle, pastel colored flowers famous from the English countryside. Dotted along the walk are sixteen poems pertaining to the garden and make for a lyrical stroll through thoughtful plantings. There was even a section with a small hedge maze as well. If I had tons and tons more room in my backyard, this walk would certainly be an inspiration to borrow from. Luckily I’m all out of room in my backyard otherwise I would have gone directly to the garden shop and purchased as many hydrangeas as I could find. Not only are they long lasting, but so full and light and delicate with color shifts and such a long bloom time. They are my number one “go to” plant to fill in spaces and make hedges to hide yourself from the neighbors.
We strolled along Azalea Way (the sweet name of the road) through giant old trees with under-plantings of hostas, ferns and astilbe. The sun was low enough in the sky to send golden rays scattering across the lawn and plants, giving a magical glow to the forest path we were walking upon. Through the woods and over the river, not to Grandma’s house, but across the Bronx River that runs through the middle of the garden. And what should our wandering eyes spy but the most beautiful stone mill nuzzled up to the river with a wedding about to begin. Brian and I both love stone houses, and this mill was exquisite. Upon further inspection (we crossed the bridge and had to make our way to the mill) we discovered it’s a building that can be rented for large events and all proceeds go to help a children’s hospital. I’m not sure how much it would cost to rent out, but what a place to have a wedding reception!!!.
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