April 20, 2013 by E.
I forgot just how much I love the South. (To put it in terms we can all understand, I love the South thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much.)
The relaxed pace of life. Food that comes from farms. Magnificent wrap-around porches. Ocean breezes. Bright colors. The charming accents. Friendly people. Seersucker.
As soon as we landed in the tiny Charleston airport, I felt any stresses or worries disappear. We’re on vacation. There is no hurrying, no frantic frenzy to get out and see or do. The only plans I made for the weekend were reservations at two of Charleston’s stunning restaurants: Husk and Magnolia’s.
I am not ashamed to tell people that eating as Husk was essentially the reason for this trip. We, perhaps unwisely, decided to vacation in Charleston during the biggest regatta of the entire year, meaning flights and hotel prices were at a premium. But that didn’t matter, because this was when I could get a reservation. And so A., bless his heart, agreed to indulge me and blindly handed over his credit card when I finally decided on a hotel.
We ate at Husk for dinner last night. When there is so much anticipation and build-up attached to a restaurant, there’s always the risk that it will underwhelm or disappoint. I went into the meal as giddy as a child on Christmas morning, but with a very adult-like nagging voice in my head whispering, It can’t be that good. Nothing can be that good. Stop getting your hopes up. Santa isn’t going to bring you a pony. He didn’t last year, and he won’t this year. You can’t have it all.
My excited, optimistic inner child totally kicked my depressing, boring inner adult’s ass.
Husk was that good. It was everything I wanted it to be, and then some. Expect a full review later, once I come down off this Husk-induced high, and can be slightly more of a critical adult and less of a rambling child.
But for now, it’s still Christmas and I can say with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old, Husk is magical. Go eat there now!