Just a Taste of Columbia, South Carolina

A recent trip to Columbia, South Carolina was more of a family get together to celebrate my cousin’s nuptials than my usual gastronomic explorations to the ends of the earth.  My last trip to the southern historical city was back in 1999 on my way out of Charleston to Atlanta’s Hartsfield airport to board a plane for Mission Maya.  We all know family is precious and great to spend time with, but what always has baffled me is the attempt to catch up for lost times in 72 hours.  This was enjoyable but allowed everyone to drule over my niece which provided me the perfect escape route to explore the food scene.  Unshackled I found myself like Houdini slipping away for a few hours each day to crack the shell of this peanut shaped city.  I conveniently worked my way around the mobs of hotel guests feasting on the “included breakfast.”

Columbia has come a long way since my last drive through, it was nice to see their “downtown” revived and new eateries blended together with the old watering holes of the past.  My family has no hesitation when it comes to eating out, or exploring the unknown, however it usually helps them when I am there to lead the voyage.  They all love the dive restaurants, but are often scared to just walk in, so I had to do some scouting and find the best local food, because otherwise there was no way I was going to survive.  My first move was to call my cousin who was out and about kissing his last hours as a bachelor good-bye.  He provided me several recommendations and off I went, camera in stow, wandering the streets of downtown Columbia.

My M.O. has always been to get to the roots, find the farmer, discover the “mom and pop”, and seek out these artisans that have built a reputation for being THE BEST!  And that is just what I did.  My oldest cousin’s advice was to first wander North of the hotel through the former Bohemian neighborhood and check out the Greek joint and another chicken outfit that had been there probably since the South Carolina General Assembly in 1786!  I dipped into both places quickly and discovered nothing unique (well, by my standards) at these places except that they were mom & pop’s.  I grabbed a cup of iced tea and a snacked on some lamb at the Greek joint only to forget that you must specify in The South whether you want SWEET or UNSWEET tea!  Ooops, sugar overload, even the Greeks seemed to have merged from honey to sugar to please those Southern palates!

That afternoon I walked through the up and coming downtown, passing by the state capitol building and other historical buildings, but in my eyes Columbia had nothing on my old stomping grounds of Charleston.  My cousin did mention that the food truck movement had begun to take off and was growing slowly much like their population of approximately 130,000.  I knew the move to Twitter or any social media was going to happen about as fast as changing the liquor laws from airplane bottles to free pour.  It’s The Deep South lets not forget,  one benefit they have is their “no rush” lifestyle.  This must explain their patients and love for slow roasted hickory pork BBQ.

My brother-in-law (A BBQ aficionado in his own right), father, and myself were primed to get a slice of “hog heaven” from a shady roadside shack somewhere, but we knew we would have to expand our search past the downtown area.  We did some internet research and talked to the locals at the front desk and sure enough everyone had a different opinion of “Where is the BEST Q!”  We screwed up (which is only an excuse to visit my cousin again) and found out about a true shack that cooks a whole hog every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday– when the hog sells out it’s “Closin’ Time!”  I was kicking myself a thousand times over for doing edits on another project instead of stuffing my face with South Carolina swine!

It was Sunday and options were limited (don’t forget it is still the Bible Belt), but I was not willing to settle for some food I could eat anywhere, so we packed up the clan and headed to Maurice’s Piggy Park.  We arrived at the Piggy Park to see a vintage corrugated metal car port supported by thick metal poles, then as we turned our heads we saw the hospital white painted formal entry way to the restaurant.  I took a stroll around the building first because wanted to see this well visited Columbia relic.  The brick exterior must have been an add on to an old house because there was clear distinction between the front facade and rear of the building where the huge flue raised to the gods.  The stacks of dry Appellation hickory wood acted as a remote exterior wall hiding the kitchen door.  My opinion there was no reason to put the charm on the place and cover the door, it was a Columbia heirloom and had been there for over sixty years.

Across from the original restaurant there was the bottling plant.  Maurice’s BBQ produced and bottled their own mustard BBQ sauce.  It had been years since my last indulgence in true Carolina Q so was ready to get down and dirty. When it came time to place the order at the walk up register there was naturally mass chaos amongst everyone, but we made it through ordering a variety of items to try.  I stuck with their classic.  My first experience should be the original before I instill my trust to pit master’s dreamt up new concoctions or modern designed masterpieces.  My classic sandwich was straightforward and had about six ounces of 18 hour slow smoked pork shoulder mixed with their famed mustard sauce.  Between my brother-in-law and the rest of the family it was fair to say we sampled 2/3rds of the menu.

I had high hopes with the amount of kudos this place was given at the hotel and along with other Columbia residents I had spoke to, but regretfully will say I should have just drank a bottle of French’s mustard and skipped the pilgrimage.  The sauce  overpowered the succulent pork and created a sunflower color to the sandwich.  The beans and slaw were solid, but after all the items we tasted, the majority winners were given to the pork hash and go-to banana pudding.  I know we all felt the brand held more clout than the food, that’s sad, because they have just been voted the Kiplinger’s Business Magazine as the BEST Mail-order BBQ in the country. I know the Bessinger family name has been around the South for three generations and their restaurants in Charleston are still family owned and operated.  I doubt that Maurice Bessinger would let YELLOW #5 be a prominent color (or ingredient) over his slow cooked divine-swine.

I look forward swinging through Columbia again to try more of their Q and emerging food truck scene with my newly married cousin, of course, after ducking into the catacomb of speakeasies and my old haunts in Charleston.

“T-Birdie’s” first trip for BBQ. (Sporting her BTK outfit! The #1 fan!)