I am not what one would call a foodie. I love to eat. I mean, I really LOVE to eat. But froufrou is not my style. I think chicken nuggets and McDonald’s French fries are a delight. I eat seafood from Captain D’s because it’s covered in batter, and I can’t taste the seafood. I began eating eggs approximately 49 weeks ago after refusing to eat them because I thought they’d taste weird. (Note: I love scrambled eggs now. I’m working on expanding my egg cooking methods currently. See blog in 49 weeks.) I’m not wholly opposed to going to a buffet once a year…even if it’s to remind you of why you haven’t been there in a year. Anyway, it’s very safe to say that despite spending some of the most amazing years in what has now become a culinary hotspot – Charleston, SC – I have not always given the more delicate and adventurous plates a chance. I was a non-foodie food snob.
But all that has changed. I tell you before God and my Instagram following, I am a proper foodie now. I have seen the light.
I had the pleasure of attending the Charleston Wine + Food Festival this past weekend. And it was an almost spiritual experience. I went for the champagne. I fell in love with the food.
On Sunday morning, I popped over to Indaco on King Street for the Brosé Brunch with a couple of friends. The pre-foodie snob in me figured that as long as the champagne was flowing, I could make it through the brunch no matter what concoction was served. Priorities people. When I arrived, I promptly got my first glass of rosé and took a look at the menu.
Or that eggs al forno, which is Italian for baked eggs, is 1000% better than scrambled eggs?!?
Even the pancake dessert was incredible. Like seriously incredible. Like so incredible that I was thrilled when lady seated next to me left and my friends and I could dig in family style and eat up incredible.
If you would have asked me last week if I would have tried half of those dishes, even the ones with clams (which surprisingly tastes like a summer breeze in my mouth or what I now imagine a summer breeze to taste like), I would have asked if you had a prescription for what you were smoking. But like Dr. Houseman on Dirty Dancing, when I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong. And I was wrong.
Real food is good. It’s not froufrou. It’s art. And it’s a delight.
I can’t wait to go again. Now that I have a distinguished palate. #foodiesunite