Ron Ward was as nice a fellow as I’d ever met. A preacher, he was the father of Rex Ward, who was the offensive coordinator of the Loris Lions in 1996, when this little yarn takes place.
At some long-forgotten country restaurant on some out of town football road trip, Mr. Ward , who rode with the Loris Scene coverage crew to away games, stood up and clapped my publisher Ricky Hardee on the back. “Ricky,” he said, “that was fittin’.” What he meant was the meal we just had was more than fit to eat, it was downright good. I though it was a tremendous compliment, and I still use it some. Ricky Hardee never took me anywhere that wasn’t fittin’. As many years ago as human beings who can legally drink alcoholic beverages are old, I started my “getting paid for watching sports and whatnot” career deep in the hinterlands of Marion, Dillon, Horry, Georgetown and Williamsburg counties. This might come as a surprise to you, but late in the 1990s in those parts of our fair state, one didn’t just venture a ways off the beaten path without a knowledgeable guide. Ricky was something of a culinary Sherpa, guiding me through the dangerous dinner perils of Region VIII-2A. He also knew what he paid me, and felt bad about it. Not bad enough to raise said pay, but bad enough that if I found myself performing my job at a time when I’d otherwise have been able to eat for free at home, he’d buy my dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast, on court days. Many was the day that he walked out of his corner office and called “let’s go eat a bean, children,” and everybody in the office knew lunch was on the boss. Anyhow, Ricky bought me more lunches at Loris Coffee Shop or council meeting suppers at the Todd House or sandwiches at American Hero than I can count. He also often bought before home football games at Heniford Field, usually Shorty’s Grill, sometimes Richard’s Barbecue, and even Stevens’ Oyster Roast on a couple occasions. Ricky always bought on the road. And he taught me that part of a football road trip – often the BEST part – was seeking out some new dinnertime delight . It’s a tradition that I’ve continued to this day, which will shock absolutely no one who’s ever seen me. But I’ve tried to pass it on, as well. I instruct writers new to the road and new to the business on the finer points of where to go to enjoy a bite. What follows here is a VERY partial list of some of my favorites, and some of my fellow bloggers’ best choices. We dearly hope you’ll add yours, either at [email protected], in the comments, or on twitter. Seriously. Come talk about food with us. I trust you’ll find most of these suggestions fittin’. My wife Bonnie keeps basketball stats and softball books better than I can, and she loves country cooking. So, when I’m going over the schedule for the upcoming season and she hears something south of about Newberry, it’s met with a cry of “OOOOOOHHHH! Midlands Chicken!” What she means by that is fried chicken from a restaurant between Newberry and Orangeburg, where people fry chicken better than they do anywhere else in South Carolina, and therefore, the world. She usually means Farm Boys in Chapin, which on football Fridays offers the sacred bird in an indescribable crust alongside barbecue, ribs, excellent fried fish and shrimp, and more vegetables than I’ll waste time trying to name. It’s a solid stop a minimum of once a year. Other fried chicken favorites are Hudson’s Smokehouse in Lexington and Shealy’s in Leesville. Both have good barbecue. Hudson’s has what I declare is the finest South Carolina hash in existence, much to Travis’ dismay. But both have MUCH BETTER fried chicken. I mean, it’s not even particularly close. If I could tell you one thing to eat at either, it would be the fried chicken. Seriously. Unless Shealy’s has steak and gravy the night you go. Then there’s barbecue. Travis and I have a project we’ll pick up and put back down where we are making pligramages to the high holy places of the art of barbecue as declared by the South Carolina Barbecue Association. None of my favorites are on their little list. David Hite’s would be, if I was sure he’d still have ‘cue left at 6:30 on a Friday, but that’s another story. Instead, give me Pig-Out in Spartanburg County, where the sauce is neither Midlands mustard or Upstate red, but an orange mix of the best of both, and completely superfluous beside their fantastic pork. Give me Smokin’ Pig in Williamston (because you’ll never get in the one in Clemson on a Friday) and their brisket. I don’t even eat brisket. I take seconds of theirs. Throw in some jalapeno cheese grits while you’re at it. Give me Hawg Heaven in Prosperity, where our buddy Britt Wilkerson proclaimed he’d eaten the best ribs he’s ever had. And most importantly, for wonderful memories, for bare-bones barbecue, for one of the best examples of what it means to eat barbecue in South Carolina, give me Wise’s in Kinards. Buy me a pack of skins. Ask Carl about his new line of purses. Believe me that none of those things are as strange as the barbecue is wonderful. Twenty-one years could lead me to so many more. Ned’s in Aynor, where a double-Nedburger is free if you can eat it all (you can’t). The aforementioned Stevens’ Oyster Roast, which sometimes serves as overflow parking for North Myrtle Beach games. Union has TWO can’t miss destinations in Dari-O and Midway BBQ. Perfectly Frank’s in Summerville. There are too many to mention. I do want to add one more memory to my portion, and tell you the above suggestions, and the ones offered by my fellow bloggers, are only useful if you’re eating BEFORE a game. If you’re at a game, doing the job we do, there’s only one place to go, and that’s Dorman. Our late, great friend Tommy Sims used to ask a very important question when any of us went to a new away destination. “They feed?” The answer at Dorman is a resounding yes. JAMIE MCBEE: Rush's - It's a destination spot for me anytime there's a game in the Columbia area. It's a burger joint that is only found within the Columbia area, a fact that is cool yet maddening because I wish Spartanburg had one. What makes Rush's so special? It's something that can't really be pinpointed because everyone I know that loves to eat there loves it for something different. I know some that love their chicken, some love their chili cheeseburger but for me it's always the regular cheeseburger basket (which comes with fries and cole slaw plus onion, tomato, mayo and mustard on the burger). It never matters when I'm there because it's always as good as the last time. For me if I go to Columbia for a game it actually just means I'm making a trip to Rush's and the game is then secondary. Fleet Landing - When you've made as many trips to Charleston for football games in the past few years as I have (I sure don't miss cross bracketing playoff) you tend to try and find perks about making a six hour round trip. A few years ago as I was heading to Charleston for a vacation my good friend and fellow blogger Jed Blackwell recommended eating at Fleet Landing while I was there and seeing as he never has steered me wrong with food I made it a point to give it a try. It was great and now has become a destination spot for me especially if I'm making a six hour round trip. What makes it so special? Well first of all it's fresh seafood and it normally is a lot less pricey than a lot of places in Charleston. The second part, it sits right over the ocean as it used to be a ship repair shop (or something like that). Not many of these football fields are close to the ocean so to make a trip all the way to the beach it's nice to get a few minutes to eat some seafood and view the ocean and that's why Fleet Landing is a destination spot for me. TRAVIS JENKINS As the late Andy Griffith once noted in his standup comedy bit “What it was, was football,” folks traveling to games will see a lot of signs encouraging you to “get something to eat-chere” but just pulling into the first place you find is often a culinary crap shoot. When you travel to far-flung rural locales like I do, technology is fairly valuable, as a quick internet search can give you a list of restaurants in any area. Of course, I end up in many towns that are so small and so lacking in dining options that the second result in one of my recent searches was “Exxon Gas Station.” A Yoo Hoo and something off the roller grill is fine in desperate situations, but if you’ve actually budgeted the time to enjoy dinner, you probably want somewhere that you can sit down and enjoy yourself. I guess you could sit on the floor at the Exxon station to eat your taquito, but you get weird looks, man. Weird looks. That might tempt you stop at a chain restaurant and again, that’s fine in a pinch, but you don’t get the flavor and local vibe at the Hardee McChicken King. You also may find yourself in grave danger…I certainly did once upon a time. Before I had the collective knowledge of man at my fingertips (and thus online restaurant reviews) I once went to McBee for a pre-season scrimmage. If you live in McBee or have been through there, you know that on the main road you have a Subway and Huddle House and that’s about it. Not possessing any knowledge of the area at the time and saddled with a crippling lack of a sense of direction, I didn’t want to go looking for anything local, so I settled on the Huddle House. Nothing wrong with that, but as I’m often want to do, I bought a local newspaper (a Hartsville Messenger as memory serves) to read while I ate. Once I’d finished my meal, I left my newspaper on the table and went to the bathroom. When I returned, the table was empty, including the newspaper which I’d not finished reading. I asked the waitress if she’d thrown it away when she cleared my plate and she said no. I then noticed someone at the next table was reading a Hartsville Messenger. “Excuse me,” I said, very politely. “Did you get that paper off this table?” “Yeah,” the guy said, not even looking up. “OK, well that’s mine. I wasn’t finished reading it yet, could I get it back?” “It was just sitting there,” he said gruffly, handing it back to me. “I thought it was for anybody to read.” “Well my car’s just sitting out in the parking lot. You think it’s for anybody to drive?” The fellow did not seem amused. My joke didn’t go over as well as I’d imagined. There’s not really a moral to this story other than don’t be a smartass at the Huddle House…and also veer just off the main road in McBee on game nights and hit the Company Store. Order a steak sandwich and thank me later. That isn’t to say every local joint is a good one. That’s where the internet comes into play again. Read reviews if you aren’t familiar with a place or just tweet out “I’m in west where-the-bleep, SC, anybody got a restaurant suggestion?” That’s how I found The Company Store, I discovered Yoder’s in Abbeville and Hawg Heaven near Prosperity via word-of-mouth and online reviews got me to Cannon’s BBQ in Little Mountain. All are beyond worth the stop on game night. Once upon time, though, I was headed to a game at Fox Creek in North Augusta. There was supposed to be a sublime BBQ eatery (I’m a fan of smoked pig…of course the name of this blog is Pigskin and Pigskins, nor Cornhole and crudité, so you probably already figured that out) “just off” 121. When I got down that way I found that the place was 12 miles off 121…which ain’t “just off,” brother. I wouldn’t have time to go find it, but I did see another BBQ joint right on 121. I like trying new places, local ones especially, BBQ ones in particular so I pulled in. When I walked in, I immediately began regretting my choice. The place (for the purposes of this column, we’ll just call it Big Jimmy’s Cavalcade of Pork) looked and smelled old. It was kind of like a funeral home, honestly…and I’d soon find that it was where good food went to die, but more on that in a second. I started to turn and leave but an employee had approached me by that time, so against my own instincts I felt obligated to stay. The waitress told me that the buffet (which all of two other customers were “enjoying”) was $7.50. That low of a price point should have been a terrible sign for all-you-can eat…as should the lack of customers. I mean, if a BBQ buffet is any good (and $7.50 to boot) shouldn’t there be a line out the door at 6 p.m.? Oh well, I would unfortunately learn the hard way. The buffet was small and the choices were limited. The barbecue looked like barbecue, so I piled that on. There was a tub of watery red stuff next to the meat. I guessed that was sauce, so I ladled it on. Up next was some unidentifiable red goop. I stirred it and peered downward, trying to discern what it was before deciding it was supposed to be hash. Sane people would have left the stuff sitting there, but I got some rice and spooned on some of the mystery meat. The were waxy-looking green beans and some sweet potatoes that looked overcooked. I decided to pass and go all meat. I sat down and tasted the barbecue. It didn’t really taste bad because It didn’t have any taste at all. There was no smoke flavor at all and ZERO seasoning. Contrary to what the menu said, the barbecue was not “juicy.” I thought I’d spotted some bark in the barbecue, but it wasn’t that magical mix of rendered fat and caramelized spice rub. It was black, burnt, dry, meat. I added some sauce and quickly longed for tasteless meat with hunks of burnt in it…the sauce tasted like old tomato soup. Not good-old tomato soup, mind you, just OLD. TOMATO. SOUP. Even if it had been fresh soup, that doesn’t belong on barbecue. The hash, which I’m certain came from a can, was “jazzed up” with the same horrific, red swill. I thought of just adding some salt to see if that helped but the salt was a dingy shade of yellow. How do you make salt yellow? I don’t want know, I don’t think. So, the décor was dreary and the food tasted like broken dreams and gym lockers. That gave the place one last chance to shine. I mean there’s three biggies in the restaurant biz…how the place looks, how the food tastes and… "You'll have to call back later," the one employee said to whoever had just called as a fourth customer walked in. "We're getting real busy." So the service sucked too. Oddly, the waitress asked that fourth customer if he wanted “his usual.” HOLY CRAP, someone ate at this place and actually came back? I’m guessing he was an inmate on work release or something, because prison food might, maybe be the only stuff I can think of worse that what I was eating. I covered my plate with a napkin, paid and left. Last time I checked online, that restaurant was permanently closed. Hard to believe, huh?
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JedAward-winning journalist. Frustrated pitmaster. Whiskey enthusiast. Lover of all things cheeseburger-related. Unapologetically proud Sandlapper. Archives
July 2017
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