What? No, I'm not dying. I'm just saying that if I were headed to the lethal injection chamber, I know how I'd want to spend my last culinary moments - at Eatonville.
Wild and Crazy Pearl once called it "The Nordstrom of Low-Country Cuisine" & posted foodie photos so delish I could hardly resist; @MissAllisonG & @drawstring's tales of dining from rocking chairs sealed the deal. So tonight, I happily accepted an invite to join friends in their Eatonville outing, braving a District blizzard ("OMG! We have, like, two inches of snow! Stay in your homes & stock up on food like it's Y2K!") to make it happen. This Midwesterner was about to take an experiential trip to the dirty south for supper.
There were still 16 minutes of happy hour on the books when we arrived, so I ordered a Grown & Sexy (Grey Goose, pomegranate & lemonade) at half price. Although the name sounds like the subject line of a post you'd find in the Casual Encounters section of Craigslist, the drink was a mere $5 & so tasty that @weiserj ordered a second round before finishing the first. I, of course, nursed mine throughout the meal because - haven't you been paying attention? - I'm a wuss.
Everything was good. Seriously, everything. I assembled a meal of three side dishes:
- Some sort of uber-cheesy mac & cheese with a baked top, like a cheesy crème brûlée - the fatten-you-up kind, as though I need it!
- Colorful Hoppin' John, which will taste even more amazing tomorrow when mixed with my newest obsession, sriracha
- Sweet potato & andouille sausage hash, a.k.a. the BEST THING I'VE EVER PUT IN MY MOUTH (yeah, yeah, that's what she said). Sorry, fellow Members of the Tribe - any would-be pork-guilt was 100% drowned out by my sheer joy. Somewhere, a pig in heaven is squealing with joy that he provided my taste buds with such delight.
In short, while this is one of the least eloquent blog posts I've ever written, I don't even care because I'm still on a food high from the deliciousness that was Eatonville. Let's go there. I'm in love.