COLUMBIA'S LUNCH REVIEW

Tank and I were lined up in the Boneless Fried Chicken formation and ready to score some baby limas and buttered squash at The Trap, when Spoony called in an audible to the “Bite of the Week.”  For the uninitiated, the Bite of the Week is pretty self explanatory – it is a weekly column in the Free Times dedicated to some delicious dish or meal here in our fair city. This week our friends at the Free Times suggested the Banh Mi (pronounced bun me) at Tea on State Street in West Columbia; so when Spoony gave us the signal, we made like Marcus Lattimore and rushed on over.  Ah, sports... the great metaphor for life.    

 

When we arrived, Spoony was resting impatiently, but comfortably, in a white retro modern ball chair enjoying the sounds of house music played from a nearby Peavey.  The highlight of the stylishly modern, Asian inspired furniture and décor was a striking mural depicting a stormy Vietnam.  The menus set in gilded frames were also a nice touch – an interesting, if unoriginal, contrast of modern and classic.  Overall, the clean lines and uncluttered space with exposed brick and blacked out ceiling beams made for a refreshingly different atmosphere.  One practical note: Tea is a no go for parties larger than 4, but with 40 varieties of tea and free wi-fi, the inviting space is ideal for a solo trip.      

The Lunchmen aren’t into reinventing the wheel (but we are into clichés), so we’ll set the table by shamelessly quoting our Free-Times inspiration penned by Jonathan Sharpe:

Tea’s house banh mi sandwich is a baguette stuffed with “BBQ pork”, a marinated and seasoned, thick-cut slice of pork resembling ham that is cooked on a griddle, along with cold cuts of steamed pork and head cheese — which is not a cheese but rather a cold cut made from slow-simmered pork head meat suspended in aspic. The well-sourced bread is crusty on the outside, soft on the inside, and spread on one side with paté, the other with butter. Completing the sandwich: slices of cucumber, jalapeño, cilantro and shredded daikon radish and carrot pickled in a light Asian dressing. If you’d rather choose your own adventure, there’s a build-your-own option on the menu. As for the bubble tea, owner Thuy Thach suggests choosing flavors that complement, such as honeydew jelly bubbles with coconut-flavored milk or coffee bubbles with almond-flavored milk.

We were greeted at the counter by Tea’s friendly proprietor.  She was patient with our rookie questions, and helped us navigate the menu.  Tank aptly noted that she seemed comfortable and at ease, unlike new restaurateurs we have encountered that are awkwardly eager to please.  We concluded that this ain’t her first rodeo.  In the grand tradition of the Lunchmen – and with a lot of help from our new friend – we diversified our order.  Tank opted for the House Adventurer described above – mostly because he thinks it is cool to eat headcheese.  To be honest, Anthony Bourdain convinced me headcheese was cool a long time ago... I’m just not cool enough yet to incorporate an amalgamation of swine dome and ear jelly into my regular diet.  I’ll get it next time, though, promise.  This time, I opted for the Chicken banh mi seasoned half and half with lemongrass and 5 spice, while Spoony chose the Chili Lime Shrimp banh mi. 

To round things out, we sprung for the Milk Tea: Tank went Almond and I went Mango with lychee jelly.  As they say, when in West Columbia...   A curious Tank also couldn’t resist the Shrimp Chips.  Undeterred, perhaps emboldened, by the proprietor’s warning that they were “an acquired taste,” Tank enthusiastically ordered the treat after taking one look at the package.  

We started in on the shrimp chips before we even made it to the table.  I’ll be the first to admit that my palate has its limits, but I enjoyed the shrimp chips.  I would definitely rank it above other Asian treats that are decidedly less palatable, among them: beef tendon, corn flavored and shaped ice cream bars, stinky tofu, and other “treats” I’ve encountered in my travels.  The crispy fry shaped chips were light and salty, with a satisfying, shrimpy aftertaste. 

As for the milk teas, we weren’t fans.  I’m sure they are expertly made and delicious for those accustomed to such beverages – but the Lunchmen prefer a robust coffee or tea to the super-sweet milk teas.  We were also a little unselttled by the jellys traveling up the extra wide straw. 

The sandwiches, on the other hand, were just plain delicious.  The marriage of pickled vegetables, spice, and meat on outstanding bread was a harmonious one.  The spice was assertive without being overpowering, complemented the clilantro and vegatables, and even made the sweet milk tea much better.  The lemongrass half of my sandwich stood out for its bright flavors, though the Chinese style 5 spice was also excellent.  

Tank seemed pleased with his sandwich as well – remarking at the heat from the jalapeno and relishing in his decision to hold off on the Sriracha.  The flavors simply work too well to be bastardized with Sriracha.  Tank noted that the headcheese worked into the other meat flavors, and didn’t stand out against the barbecue pork.  Next time, the Lunchmen may deconstruct the sandwich and sample the parts individually to get a full appreciation for how well the ingredients come together.  Spoony’s chili lime shrimp, while good, took third to the House Adventurer and half and half chicken. 

All in all, Tea gets an enthusiastic thumbs up from the Lunchmen – there are three new Banh Mi fans in the Metro.  We can’t wait to make it back to try more of the menu like the spring rolls and the numerous varieties of loose leaf tea.

- The Publican

For Southerners, the meat ‘n three occupies a place in the culinary tradition similar to the French bistro, Italian trattoria -- or less idyllically -- the Yankee diner. They are the places to eat in neighborhoods and small towns where the cooking is informal but an honest representation of what people in the area traditionally eat. The meat ‘n threes menu and concept is uniform wherever you go: pick one of a handful of meats off a list and three vegetables from another column with a slightly higher number of selections. Sometimes congealed salad or banana pudding is a vegetable, sometimes not. Iced tea and a bread basket round out the experience. For many (including legions of old people, who often comprise the meat ‘n three’s main constituency), it’s a nostalgia-invoking experience: a place to go that is intended to look the same as meat ‘n threes have always looked and serves the food that its diners grew up eating at home, or some such pabulum.

The problem is that at many meat ‘n threes, the execution is lacking and the quality always is slipping: the vegetables are canned, over-cooked or carelessly seasoned. The meat doesn’t taste fresh, or -- if you’re lucky -- just doesn’t taste. The fryer is on auto-pilot, and customers who eat there will never get to taste the righteousness and integrity of a chicken leg fried in a cast-iron skillet. Farm equipment and vintage soda signs tacked onto the walls of a restaurant can’t replace farm-fresh butter beans, or iced tea brewed that day.

The irony of this current dilemma is that the Southern kitchen is the most evocative, complex, and celebrated cooking tradition of any part of the Union. Every shrimp and grits dish on a Manhattan menu or a bacon-stained tablecloth in a hip Brooklyn bistro owes its heritage to meat ‘n threes and the Southern cooks who have prepared simple but tasty meals reflecting the bounty of the region. Why then do so many modern day meat ‘n threes feature second-rate food?

But there is hope to be found against this otherwise bleak backdrop; right on Millwood Avenue, a Reawakening is taking place. Millwood Café, a restaurant with a simple name, unassuming interior, and day service only, is cooking traditional Southern food that does not compromise on quality or bow to the Southern-fried-kitsch that some other meat ‘n three’s gorge themselves.

What exactly is the meat ‘n three Reawakening at Millwood Café? It starts on a dry-erase board where four or five meats usually will be listed: fried flounder, smoked sausage, meatloaf, fried chicken are all in a heavy rotation (note: there’s a small orange grill menu on each table, which features hamburgers and handcut fries. It is testament to the Millwood experience that I have never had to check down to the burger and fries option, despite my general eagerness to find a proper French fry at any time of the day).

However, the stand-out menu item remains the chicken fried steak. The batter, as noted by Tank at dinner last week, is sturdier than most, owing most likely to the use of cornmeal, and it carries enough seasoning in the dredge to wake the chopped steak up from its torpor. It comes out of the fry crisp, not greasy, and remarkably light. The sawmill gravy on top is creamy, but avoids the plaster-of-paris-masquerading-as-topping phenomenon that plagues some other restaurant’s chicken fried steak dishes.

Perhaps the most pleasing part of the Millwood Café experience is that the portions are appropriately sized for lunch. There is no good reason that a meat ‘n three should feel compelled to treat you like a French goose during fois gras season: business people have to go back to work in the afternoon; the older clientele generally are not the demographic that eats to excess; and where many similar restaurants would feel compelled to buffalo you with quantity, Millwood lays off the food throttle. They give you a filling portion without parking a plate of food in your stomach.

Millwood Café succeeds because of its attention to detail, and its diligence in presenting an appealing plate of well-cooked food. Fried okra has arrived on the table in a cup and saucer, topped with a dusting of Parmesan cheese. The field peas are Anson Mills Sea Island red field peas, and are not overcooked or simply a means to a ham-hock-tasting end. Rather they taste simply like field peas. The macaroni-and-cheese is respectable; again, like the country-fried-steak, surprisingly light but with enough sharpness and bight to take notice. The food is not intended to soar or overwhelm, it succeeds because the food arrives quickly, and appears that someone in the kitchen took time to care about how it was presented to you. The service staff is friendly, many of the waitresses claim kin to the chef, Joe Britt (a Moe’s Grapevine alumnus), or the owners, the McCarthy’s. They are not professionals, or short-timers, they are something better: that is to say, they care about the product. You should too.

- Rev. Fat Back

Rev. Fat Back is an author, diplomat, and law student who really digs on slow-cooked swine and other Southern cooking. When he isn’t studying the Rule Against Perpetuities, Rev. Fat Back extols the virtues of slow food and proselytizes about Southern barbecue. At risk of violating our oath of anonymity, check out his contribution to the gospel, Holy Smoke: The Big Book of North Carolina Barbecue, at http://uncpress.unc.edu/HolySmoke/index.html

Welcome to the Boo List 1441 Main Cafe.  I can’t even bring myself to try your lunch, which we noticed included refrigerated sandwiches done gas station style.  Maybe you should poach one of the ladies from The Lunch Box to see if their experience can save your fledgling restaurant... otherwise, good luck in your future endeavors.

- The Publican