The following was written by intern Alison Sher after a visit to a new restaurant at Wild Dunes:
There is rarely a time when journalists from all the papers in Charleston get to sit down at a table and talk nice with each other over five courses of food. Are there rivalries between publications?
I mean we all like to make fun of each other, but it’s nothing short of petty banter. The Post and Courier is full of conservative morons, the City Paper writers are a bunch of liberal buffoons, the Charleston Mercury is, well, the color of salmon. But in reality, we all satisfy a different audience.
I went to the Lettered Olive at the Wild Dunes resort, for a dinner chef Enzo Steffenelli put on for the press to get the word out about his new restaurant. Besides being a gut-busting culinary undertaking, the dinner proved to be quite the memorable dining occasion.
Sometimes I feel like people look at me funny when they find out I’m a food writer, as if they’re thinking: “What the hell does this youngun’ know about food?”
As a self-proclaimed rookie foodie, I don’t pretend I’m anything that I’m not, and my mouth is always wide open for more taste adventures.
At first, I felt a little bit of tension sandwiched between a Le Cordon Bleu graduate and writers 20 years my senior from different papers. I got the impression they were a bit skeptical of me. I guess we all do tend to stereotype as a source of self-defense. But it all stems from our own insecurity.
The interior of the Lettered Olive had a bit of a hip cafeteria vibe. There are high ceilings, huge windows, tons of seating, and nice bar. It is bright, lively, and definitely family friendly.
Chef Enzo (whose warm and demure personality is adorable, by the way) started out the evening by bringing us each out two plates of appetizer samplers. I really liked the tropical tequila ceviche. All the seafood in it was perfectly slick and tender and it didn’t have that overpowering taste of citrus that can destroy most ceviches. I also thought the sweet peach barbeque sauce on the beef short ribs was rather tasty. The Manhattan-style fish chowder, a thick, zesty stew loaded with fish, is a great alternative to a side salad.
We all got to order an entrée from the menu. The prices at the Lettered Olive may be pretty lofty, but they give you so much food it ends up being worth it. Every entrée comes with a soup/salad or a choice of two bowls of sides. My half five-spiced Asian duck was about 2 lbs. of quacker plopped on a plate. The Charleston red rice is basically a seafood buffet, bursting with half a lobster tail, and heaping portions of scallops, mussels, shrimp, and sausage in an okra-filled gumbo base.
I wasn’t really impressed with anything I tried from the rotisserie, but there were some worthwhile entrees. The halibut special of the night, drizzled with lemon sauce was a standout. When ordered with rice noodles, the “spa” wok does a very good impersonation of Pad Thai and the Charleston red rice comes highly recommended. I know all these things because I ate off of everyone’s plates.
For dessert, Holly Herrick compared the coconut cake to Bob Carter’s at Peninsula Grill, except she said that Chef Enzo’s was moister. I myself preferred the pie.
By the end of the night, my date, Buster (our precocious, fashion-savvy intern), had the 30-something women at the table swooning. The young and the old, the traditional and laissez-faire were mingling with earnest delight. I hugged the staff good-bye.
We may have been five glasses of wine deep, but in my mind, barriers were broken. We’re just people after all.
