Donuts are nothing new. Dating back to the early 1800s, the Dutch-inspired, deep-fried rings of sweetened batter endure. Over the years, the breakfast treat has inspired fans, admirers, and what might be termed Donut People. Popular culture has offered up several notable Donut People, among them:

Homer Simpson.

Liz Lemon.

Cops.

And while clearly a long-standing offering, newly opened ‘adorn at will’ donutteries, The Fractured Prune in Mt. Pleasant and Duck Donuts in West Ashley, indicate the sweet, greasy rings are attempting a new stage in their evolution.

Established in 1976, The Fractured Prune franchise boasts a strange name and a cute lavender and mint green building on Ben Sawyer Boulevard. Family-owned, service is notably friendly and personable, and the fried-to-order, customizable donuts are of the cake variety.

Similarly, Duck Donuts (also a franchise, founded in 2006) is set in Westwood Plaza off Sam Rittenberg Boulevard. It, too, features freshly fried cake donuts delivered hot off the press and topped to order.

Note that neither establishment offers a single gluten-free option, which I assert is a major business opportunity lost. To all concerned, let me assure you: Celiacs sufferers and those who love them are accustomed to paying extortionary upcharges for gluten-free pizza crusts, pastas, wraps, and buns. There’s certain money to be made there. Look into it.

For those down with wheat, both The Fractured Prune and Duck Donuts offer a yogurt shop-array of sugary fixings and flavored icings, with which to create the Candyland concoction of your Willy Wonka dreams. If that seems like too much work, they also provide a set menu of similar standards, with options ranging from blueberry or cinnamon sugar, to maple bacon or vanilla with Oreo crumbles.

But while there are similarities between the two ‘made-to-order’ donut shops, the differences are notable and break down as follows:

Price

The Fractured Prune

$13.50 for a half-dozen

Duck Donuts

$7.95 for a half-dozen

Dough

FP: Soft, dense and filling, with a prominent nutmeg punch that lingers on the tongue, slightly numbing it, long after the donut itself is gone.

DD: Slightly sweet, springy dough with a sunshiny yellow hue. The texture falls somewhere between dense cake and the lighter, well-known Krispy Kreme variety.

Donut Square Off

FP:“Death by Chocolate” — Chocolate glaze, chocolate sprinkles, and cookie crumbs.

Barely a flesh wound by chocolate, the fundamental shortfall can be traced to the glaze. Reminiscent of Magic Shell, it’s possessed of a barely perceptible cocoa flavor. Although cute to look at, the brown jimmies don’t add much chocolate-y-ness either, and the cookie crumbs were placed on the wrong donut. Oof.

DD: Chocolate icing with peanuts and caramel drizzle.

Fo shizzle my drizzle, this is a decadent, Snickers-esque choice. The icing really is icing, thick and fudgy and (according to my donut-obsessed sampling companion) comparable to that at the K.K. chain. While the rich caramel drizzle is really just gilding the lily, the peanuts add some pleasing contrast and crunch.

FP: “OC Sand” — Honey glaze and cinnamon sugar.

This one came, inexplicably, covered in Oreo-like cookie crumbs, which I later realized were intended for the DbC. After brushing them off, the assertive cinnamon flavor combines with the nutmeg-rich batter and complements it. I was told this is the most popular flavor, and it’s clear why.

DD: Fresh from the fryer, the hot Duck donut reacts with the cinnamon sugar to form a crisp, crunchy exterior. Simple and straightforward, this will be my choice next time,and is certain to appeal to those less inclined toward sticky fingers or intensely jittery sugar buzzes.

FP: “Blueberry Hill” — Blueberry glaze and powdered sugar.

The artificial blueberry flavor is large and in charge here, but it’s one of the few glazes able to stand up to the ever-powerful nutmeg. If you’re not bothered by the phony notes, this was one of the favorites sampled.

DD: Blueberry icing with powdered sugar. 

There’s also an artificial blueberry taste to this icing, but there are little dehydratedblueberries like in a Jiffy muffin mix that add a pleasing punch of authenticity. “Those chewy berries are my favorite thing about pancakes,” hotly defended my donut-sampling companion at my use of the word “artificial.”

FP: “Bacon bomb” — Maple glaze, cinnamon sugar, and bacon.

The bacon glaze is hard to discern and doesn’t do much as far as keeping the bacon in line. When not falling all over the place, the bits are thick and smoky, a welcome relief from the parade of sugar and nutmeg. Although somewhat unmanageable to eat, this was the fan favorite at The Prune.

DD: Maple icing with chopped bacon. The maple flavor is strong here, and the icing provides good adhesion for the bacon itself. Due to the more nuanced batter at Duck, I and my companions found we no longer craved a bacon vacation and probably wouldn’t pick it as a topping again while here.

Other items

FP: N/A. All donuts, all the time, baby.

DD: Egg and cheese sandwiches with the additional option of bacon or sausage. I chose the latter ($4.25), which came — to my foolish surprise — on a plain donut. Rather greasy, but still good, this concoction revealed how lightly sweetened the batter is, a basic bitch ready to be turned into whatever the assorted toppings decree. This is a smart move, as it affords each donut a distinct flavor.

Net impression

FP: While the space and the multi-generational family behind the counter are charming, the nutmeg level in the recipe is too high and the steep price point is worrisome. Even with the ample donut choices and cute building, it’s hard not to worry about this little business enterprise.

DD: Whether or not piping hot, freshly iced and adorned donuts will be an enduring trend is hard to say. Duck Donuts seemed plenty busy, and its strip mall location conducive to the business model. Moreover, the sunny yellow, lightly sweet batter allows the varied and sundry toppings to shine.

The post Comparing Charleston’s newest donut shops, Fractured Prune and Duck Donuts (Charleston City Paper) appeared first on Vanessa Wolf, MBA.

When it opened in the summer of 2014, R Kitchen’s simple concept was also its flagship: Offer a limited number of nightly guests seating at a wooden bar flanking the minimal kitchen and open-shelved storage area. Positioned as fundamentally experiential, the website still boldly declares in all caps, “IT’S A KITCHEN, NOT A RESTAURANT.” While chef’s tables and open kitchens are nothing new, the novelty was in keeping it only a demonstration — limiting production to three seatings of roughly 12 guests each. In an August 2015 interview with Eater, chef-owner Ross Webb noted, “We say we’re going to serve 40 guests a night, and we stick to that.”

Flash-forward three-and-a-half years, and several things remain the same. Most notably the wooden bar, humble commercial kitchen, and unique five-course meal prepared every night. On the other hand, to willfully butcher the proverb, the more things stay the same, the more they change. Although on the surface R Kitchen bears a strong resemblance to its youthful self, the kitchen is all growed up; especially with respect to the scale. Now, there’s seating for “up to 16 guests in the kitchen or 20 on our covered patio.” The areas are separate, with the two chefs and a lone waitress hustling between them to service everyone. Likewise, just as the experience has physically doubled, it’s also exponentially less communal.

During my visit, there were eight of us lined up in a row in front and a full house in the back. Although sitting amongst them at the bar, I couldn’t tell you anything about my fellow diners, save a couple snippets I managed to overhear. The experience was almost exactly like, well, sitting at a bar. You might be close enough to touch the person next to you, but you don’t. In fact, the fundamental rules of elementary school — keep your hands to yourself, don’t bother your neighbor unless invited to do so, etc. — seemed to serve as a silent decree to which we all adhered. As for the people in the back? They could have been Klingons for all I know.

On the other side of the wood slab, the chefs have work to do and busily went about doing it. As they chop, slice, and sear, they’re accompanied by a wildly eclectic playlist. With selections ranging from Motown and R&B, to world fusion and dubstep, anticipate some mood-setting, mad mixtape skills.

As chefs Chris and Holmes began plating the first course, they launched into some introductory banter, with humorous proclamations that felt a touch like a well-worn stand-up routine. “If you’re a vegan, I can order you a taxi.” Ba-dum-tish. But hey, although there’s a revolving list of chefs, many of these folks have been performing this “dinner and a show” schtick twice a night for almost four years. Mild exhaustion from innovating a daily menu, not to mention pandering to the public, would be understandable.

In the spirit of updating food-based facts, the five-course prix fixe meal is now $35 a person. A choice of four wines are available for $8 a glass and $30 a bottle, with beers $5 each. There were also two wine upgrade options (a pinot noir and a sparkling rose) for $40 a bottle. (Word on the street is there’s a different, more wallet-friendly booze option at the West Ashley location.)

The dishes themselves ran the gamut from seasonal and inspired to mom’s leftover surprise. Our meal began with a sublime carrot ginger soup, founded on lemongrass and finished with a splash of ghost pepper chili oil. Then came a processed cheese-laden orzo tossed with chopped tomato and corn kernels. From Gary Danko to Denny’s in a single course. Still, when one considers that a bowl of such a soup as prepared by the venerable San Francisco eatery would cost about as much as the entirety of the five courses, you’re still way ahead of the game.

Moreover, in an era of growing food waste awareness, employing last night’s queso dip in today’s ‘tomato cheese pasta’ is commendable. In fact, some kind of scrap dinner featuring leftover carrot greens pesto, juice pulp veggie burgers, and more-or-less-rotten-banana cake with repurposed candied citrus peels might be right up their alley? I’d certainly be down to try it.

All the same, there’s really no point in discussing the (mostly) highs and lows of the dishes that came out of R Kitchen, as they’re unlikely to ever be made that way again. Innovation is the name of the game, and with that in mind, not only is R Kitchen’s transformation into something less personal and more profitable understandable, it’s admirable. Things change. Chefs evolve, businesses expand, time makes you bolder and even children get older, etc. R Kitchen has seemingly morphed what was most likely a ball buster of a business model into something less strenuous and more lucrative for everyone involved, while still keeping the core foundation of creativity intact.

On that note, I hope to take a page from them as I eyeball 2019. Whether you’re down with resolutions or anything auld lang syne, here’s to us all embracing change, doing more with less, and finding ways to work smarter, not harder. Dubstep optional.

The post Four years after opening, R Kitchen is still an innovative concept (Charleston City Paper) appeared first on Vanessa Wolf, MBA.

What do an eighth century Chinese consort, an ’80s new wave soundtrack, and a dogged journeyman chef have in common? No, not a Jon Favreau time travel themed sequel to Chef, but a permanent — and much-deserved — home for chef David Schuttenberg’s former weekend-only ‘residency’/pop-up, Kwei Fei.

Set next door to Charleston Pour House in the space previously occupied by The Lot, the interior looks the same-ish, except now the chairs are yellow and you’ll find some Asian knick knacks scattered about. But the updates are the only understated thing about Kwei Fei. Pretty much nothing else — from the food to the music to the chef himself — can be described as subtle.

After classic French training in NYC, Schuttenberg went on to work at Tom Colicchio’s Craft and then helped develop the now-shuttered, Malaysian-focused Fatty Crab before switching gears again to work with Southwestern flavors. Chef found Charleston as part of the ill-fated Wise Buck/Scarecrow project and spent some time thereafter working to find his stride in the Holy City. All things considered, the fact that Kwei Fei is a Sichuan restaurant based on James Island makes absolutely no perfect sense.

Leave your P.F. Chang’s-based expectations at the door — Kwei Fei’s menu is an equally wild ride, offering an array of appetizers, entrees, and veggie-based sides sorted into blocks labeled “Loud,” “Hot,” and “Vibes.”

The crescent dumplings ($7) are an outstanding way to give your tastebuds a crash course in the events to come. Made with ground pork and redolent Sichuan pepper, the five plump dumplings are served in a soy-based, vinegary sauce and topped with fresh cilantro and chives. Hot, sour, salty, sweet: everyone’s here.

The Hong Yu shrimp ($12) are slightly less assertive, bordering on sublime. Roughly a dozen small, tail-on local shrimp are baptized in a deep red oil that starts out mild before revealing a slow burn. Served cool, they’re sprinkled with scallions, crushed peanuts, and sesame seeds and they’re absolutely perfect. Note, if you can steel yourself to leave a few unconsumed, they’re even better the next day.Hong yu shrimp (below left) comes with roughly a dozen small, tail-on local shrimp

On the heartier side of things, and in hopes of proving this is not a paid advertisement, the Dan Dan Mian ($14) is not my bag. One of the more commonly seen Sichuan offerings, highly touted by the waitress, the preparation is fairly by-the-book. Originally sold as street food, the Kwei Fei version is made with bok choy, sesame paste, and minced pork along with black vinegar and peanuts. The wheat noodles suck up the varied flavors nicely, yet — perhaps since accompanied by otherwise starchless dishes — the net effect seems particularly pasty and doughy.

On that note, the Sichuan beef ($16) is a far cry from the Americanized stir-fry made with carrots, celery, and flamboyant whole chili pods. This is the real deal, with sliced flank steak poached in a fermented chili oil sauce and served as a soupy stew. We were encouraged to order it with a side of rice ($3), and I would highly recommend ignoring that advice.

Truth be told, while onsite, I didn’t particularly appreciate it. But late that night, in a heartburn-inducing “re-tasting” ritual I often employ with the leftovers of complex preparations, the true nuances of the dish were apparent. Eaten with a spoon and embraced as an oily soup, there’s a pronounced punch of fresh ginger and the subtle depth of shiitake mushrooms, balanced by the crunchy bean sprouts and tender strips of beef. Get some. Hold the rice.

At the same time, and to be fair, I have to imagine the friendly, rice-pushing waitress has good intentions and has likely come up against some umbrage. Case in point, she was keen to note that the chicken and wild mushroom claypot ($16) is most suitable for anyone opposed to spice. Hear ye, hear ye, the only thing more cruel than bringing a GERD-afflicted, spicy-food sensitive individual to dine at Kwei Fei would be bringing someone with a deadly peanut allergy.

The restaurant offers a smattering of beers, wines, and cocktails, including a pepper-infused Sichuan Negroni ($12). However, considering the heat level of pretty much everything, it was hard to discern much burn. “I may not taste anything else I eat all week, but it’ll be worth it,” commented my dining companion, chugging her third glass of water.

On the “vibes” side of things, vegetarians are well-taken care of with the dry-fried green beans ($6). Here some rice makes sense and adds bulk to the delicate haricots verts, which are coated with an intense, chunky garlic and ginger combo with a little spicy kick. But of course.

Similarly, the Yu Xiang eggplant ($6) is outstanding. Deeply imbued with soy sauce, fresh ginger, and black vinegar flavors, there also seemed to be toothy bits of dou ban jiang, fermented broad bean paste, in the mix. Whatever is going on, it’s excellent, and should be available by the quart, white paper pagoda box optional.

Alas, although take out is an option, likely the best way to enjoy Kwei Fei is to become one with Kwei Fei. There, the music is loud, the food is loud, and even the cocktails are spicy. You’re on Schuttenberg’s turf now, and one can only hope the multi-cuisine-capable chef stays interested in providing Zen-shattering delights for a good, long while.

The post James Islanders luck out with Kwei Fei’s unlikely arrival and bold flavors (Charleston City Paper) appeared first on Vanessa Wolf, MBA.

Some day in the not-too-distant future, a young, would-be hip-hop artist in Brazil will come up with the perfect rap name and Google it, only to find it’s already been taken by a restaurant chain founded in Charlotte, N.C. Alas, while Sao Paolo will never experience the dope beats of Kid Cashew, Mt. Pleasant residents can now enjoy brunch, lunch, and dinner there. Oh, and it’s apparently named after a goat.

Set in the site of the former Triangle Char and Bar, the space has been quickly, but lovingly, renovated into a welcoming, rustic-chic eatery. Similarly, the menu is largely approachable, with a strong Mediterranean slant.

The appetizer options are led by a selection of three homemade spreads; hummus, tzatziki, and spicy feta ($5.95 each or $15.95 for all three). The tzatziki is excellent, loaded with delicate dill and shredded cucumber, then topped with fresh parsley and a slug of olive oil. The hummus, however, is a bore. Presumably made with (otherwise indiscernible) roasted red bell peppers, the orange dip is thick and garbanzo-heavy. More tahini, lemon, and/or garlic would be welcome.

The spicy feta should come with a liability waiver. Seemingly made with equal parts feta cheese and Carolina reapers (but according to the menu, just minding-their-own-business jalapenos), it is extremely, WTF-ing-ly, eye-poppingly spicy. But it’s addictive … at least for us masochists. “I’m burping up flames,” whimpered my dining companion, while going back for more.

The spreads come with a choice of slightly over-charred pita triangles or a mix of raw carrots and celery sticks. If you want both, it’s an additional $2, which seems a bit nickle-and-dimey considering the portion-to-price-tag ratio. While the small ramekin is a sufficient size for the rich feta, it feels woefully inadequate where the hummus is concerned.

Vegans, rejoice! There’s a fairly hearty list of options for those eschewing all forms of animal products, including a quinoa-stuffed avocado ($3.95 for half and $7.75 for a whole). What arrives is … odd. Set in an Easter basket-like nest of shredded iceberg lettuce (why?), the avocado is filled with quinoa and entirely obscured by a melange of cucumber, tomato, and pungent red onion. Drizzled with chipotle sauce (do they have chipotles in the Med?) and topped with green onions and parsley, there’s clearly a lot going on here. All the while, it’s hard to determine where it’s going. Although the ingredients would definitely make a good topping for a fish taco, it’s a rather strange appetizer.

The same can be said for the cast iron mac and five cheese ($6.95), made with ‘homemade mornay sauce, creamy leeks, and shallots,’ but wholly dominated by the assertive flavors of gruyere and Swiss cheese. If you order this expecting the mild, Southern classic, note that none of the five cheeses used in the mix — billed as kasseri, gouda, gruyere, fontina, and parmesan — happen to be cheddar.

Service was provided by the bartender, a man whose soul is quite possibly possessed by the restaurant’s point of sale system. Consistently turning his back to the bar and surrounding tables for excruciatingly long stretches of time, gaining his attention bordered on impossible as he stared — seemingly enchanted — at the glowing screen. Whether the machine has become self-aware or is acting as a type of oracle is unknown, but here’s hoping it’s never too busy in there, as the grip it has on him is clearly profound.

Meanwhile, the wood fire-grilled Spanish octopus ($12.95) shows real potential. Although overcooked and, making it regrettably chewy, the rich, smoky flavor is a highlight. Similarly, the crunchy base of finely chopped raw kale and cooked quinoa, generously seasoned with garlic and lemon, is outstanding. Maybe (please) fill the avocados with this instead?

Kid Cashew offers a variety of creative speciality cocktails (all $10), like the Big Fig Newton, made with bourbon, chopped rosemary, and figs. If you can get past the off-putting name, the Goat’s Breastmilk features the delightful juxtaposition of mild-mannered amaretto and honey with powerful ouzo, lemon, and mint. There’s also a full bar, plus a handful of bottled beers and a respectable assortment of wines by both the bottle and glass.

The roasted lamb gyro ($10.95) arrives on a large toasted pita loaded with thin red onions, iceberg lettuce, and chopped fresh tomatoes. The thinly sliced lamb meat is leaner than the cuts taken from the more-traditional spool of roasted pork and lamb, but still holds it own. Topped with the same perfectly executed tzatziki, it’s a successful riff on the Greek street food classic.

The all-natural smoked chicken (half $11.95, whole $18.50, served a la carte) is brined for 48 hours, the flavors permeating deeply into the bird. While the skin was incredible — crisp and flavorful — the white meat was woefully overcooked and painfully dry. The dark meat, however, is why the Greek gods made wood fire grills. Go get some.

Kid Cashew is new, at least in some respects. The restaurant group behind the establishment is no stranger to success, and the same formula has clearly been lucrative in Charlotte. With a little more fine-tuning of the wood fire grill and an exorcism performed on the bartender’s cash register screen, it’s likely this burgeoning chain with the ‘what’s that again?’ name could soon be considered Mt. Pleasant’s go-to land of (goat’s breast) milk and honey.

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