No Place Like Home

Most of these houses were in decay when I was a child. 

Amish Deer Tongue is, to me, an unappetizing name for a lettuce. It really is off-putting. Perhaps because Bro-in-Law Peter-the-Cajun once hung a gutted deer under his barn, and poor thing, there it was with it's tongue hanging out and the name of the lettuce, turns out, is actually somewhat descriptive ,at least of a dead, deer's tongue. The visual gets me every time. Because of the name I never bought the seeds but, good friend and neighbor, Joy gave me a packet of seeds for Christmas. I planted them. They were a gift for cryin' out loud. They prospered. We ate some because I know Joy will ask if we did and I do not lie well. Ta-da! We like Amish Deer Tongue! It is tasty. Somewhat like Buttercrunch not as tender, more robust, with a delightful Romaine-like crunchy rib. This analysis of lettuce officially makes me a foodie.

In keeping with foodie analysis can I just say, Somewhere North of Broad over-salted the farrow with roasted vegetables? My thought is the farrow was seasoned perfectly, the veggies as well, but together it was just too much. I ate it all, however, knowing that my fingers would puff up like fat little sausages. The lamb rack was perfect. The Pear Ginger Pear Sangria was brilliant. A mild white Sangria that tasted deceptively non-alcoholic. The ambiance just right after a long day of sightseeing; relaxed and quiet. My view of the kitchen could not have made me happier. It was great fun to watch chefs cook. Busy, busy. The waiter made us laugh with a Freudian slip. He, from Massachusetts, likes Charleston (there is only one Charleston) because of the women, oops make that the weather. He blushed, and I'm like, I know right?! We had such a nice evening we forgot do the obligatory foodie picture. I offer instead my new favorite color for a door. Ciao Bella!

Orange? Persimmon? Salmon? So Southern. So Charleston.