Charleston, South Carolina, home to historic Ft Sumter, The Citadel (Military College of South Carolina), The College of Charleston, The Medical University of South Carolina, and the world-renowned Spoleto Festival, is many things to many people. Tourists flock for the history and the food and the festive atmosphere. Yachts, large and small bob in neat rows at a myriad of sun-bleached docks.
Charleston reeks of history. If you think that’s an exaggeration, just follow those tourist-filled, horse-drawn carriages as they prowl the cobblestones.
Go ahead. Jump into one of the most special places in North America. Bask at the beaches. Bargain at the old, brick vegetable market, or suck down some oysters at a hundred and one places. Stay at a fashionable downtown hotel, or just amble along the confluence of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers and stare at the narrow streets lined with stately antebellum homes.
Ah, but in the evening, when a gentleman and his lady, or his friends, or people he barely knows get thirsty, they have choices. Slosh down a pint of suds over fried seafood, or winnow through the old section of town and find something worthy of a slow touch and a carefully drawn out evening.
I have often mellowed in Charleston. Swilled a toddy or two here and there. Not saying any of the watering holes were bad. Matter of fact, I’ve darkened a few doorways more than once.
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| When they say 'alley,' they mean it! |
But, this time, I found a special haunt. McCrady’s Restaurant, tucked away in an historic building at 2 Unity Alley. No trouble to find. March along East Bay until you see the sign. Don’t let the word ‘restaurant’ put you off. The bar is right out of the 1930s. Carey Grant and Humphrey Bogart style.
Dating from 1788, McCrady’s owns a piece of history. The building, originally a four story public house, was erected by Edward McCrady and although the inside has been altered, the new owners showed due reverence for a building that is on the National Registry For Historic Places and Landmarks.
My friends and I didn’t go for the food, which I understand is locally gathered and prepared by a noted chef. We went for social drinks, to practice the declining art of relishing each sip, and sharing good conversation. If you want to be surrounded by dark wood paneling, and served by barkeeps who know their libations and didn’t graduate from high school just last week, McCrady’s is the spot.
When I chat with someone about wine, it grates to hear, “It’s like a really, really fruity Merlot? You know, I like really, really love it with caramel crunch Hagen Daaz?” Being a person of temperate mood, I usually walk away, rather than empty a full clip and reload. But, I’m always tempted.
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| Ryan, at your service. |
No riffraff behind the bar at McCrady’s, where they proudly call their drink recipes ‘pre-prohibition.’ Ryan, a young, bearded barman, knows his stuff, with just a touch of attitude that lets you know, he ain’t messin’ around. He really does know his stuff. My friend, a connoisseur of the Spanish grape, mentioned a notable region and Ryan’s eyes lit up. He knew the region and pointed out several wines from the award winning wine list. Ryan also called our attention to a French vintage. “Small winery, and special. We seldom score more than a case or two.” My friend’s eyes rolled back at the first sip. I gave it a sniff and a smaller sip. Smooth. Full nose and full flavor, but easy on the tannin. Notes of berries and leather. In short, a 2004 Rhone that made you wish you’d paid more attention in French class.
Lots of other things about McCrady’s are special. Small hand-labelled bottles stand on the bar. Mute testimony to house-made bitters, ready to spice any Manhattan, and even greater testimony to "this is a serious drinking establishment."
For me, it was a beer night. I went for a dark, almost black, house stout. Our other two drinkers followed up with a bourbon and a full bodied ale. Nobody complained. And nobody said a word for the first few sips.
McCrady’s is like that. You feel a strong need to linger, to relish the moment. Shadows fall across the long Mohogany bar. Look up and you’ll glimpse the second story, where a glass wall protects row after row of wine. Behind you, corner booths offer a nod to privacy.
Feel like a little nosh? The specials change daily. Read them off the blackboard at the end of the bar. We had bite-sized chunks of tender lamb, skewered, grilled, and served in a wooden bowl, with a delicate mint yogurt condiment.
I already mentioned I’d been to a few other drinking establishments in Charleston. For the life of me, I can’t remember the names. Once you’ve found McCrady’s, the rest fade. It’s a hideaway that makes any evening special. Take only your closest friends. You’ll be there awhile. Cheers!
