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This better be good, the voice in my head warned as I stood outside Ratcliffe on the Green, the small restaurant housed in an old florist shop on the corner of 1st and Tryon. I’m about to spend a lot of money on this dinner – and it better be good!
You see, I’m a student. My dinner plans do not usually involve dining in the more upscale restaurants of the city (unless, of course, someone else is paying). And yet here I stood, awaiting the arrival of my two friends while listening to the voice of reason in my head, which was starting to question the evening’s restaurant selection. All such thoughts were quickly pushed aside, however, as the door to the restaurant opened and Executive Chef Mark Hibbs emerged. I had met Chef Hibbs earlier in the week.
“I saw your name on the reservation list for tonight,” he said, “but they spelled it wrong. Oh well. I guess you’re here to get some of those famous Black Truffle Grits, right?”
“I sure am. Ever since you told me about them I’ve wanted to taste them for myself.” As I hung up my coat and walked to the table, that little voice spoke to me once again. They may be famous, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. These grits better be good!
Why did I pick up the phone that afternoon to call the restaurant and make an 8:00 reservation, knowing I would drop more money than my meager budget allowed? It all comes down to grits. Yes, grits. Now, you may be wondering what my crazy obsession is with grits. Maybe you think grits are only found in grandma’s old-school Southern cookin’. Or that grits are only eaten for breakfast. Or maybe you think grits are just a bizarre concoction with a bland taste that somewhat resembles wet sand on the beach. But I am convinced that grits, when done right, deserve a chance to proclaim their worthiness. And so I search. And search.
I learned of a company based in Columbia, South Carolina, called Anson Mills. Although officially established in 1998, Anson Mills originated a few years earlier in the mind of Glenn Roberts, a Charleston native who was passionate about recreating authentic traditional Southern cuisine. He embarked on a mission to rediscover some of the near extinct varieties of Southern mill corn that had been present in the region since the late 1600’s. Upon discovering these heirloom grains, Roberts began carefully growing and milling them, restoring some of the classic Southern ingredients that had almost been lost forever. While its primary focus is heirloom grain restoration, Anson Mills also produces and sells a variety of other antebellum grain products to chefs throughout the country, including Mark Hibbs.
“I use Anson Mills because of the fine quality of their ingredients,” explained Hibbs. “They’re fresh, certified organic, and produced by a local company.” This is consistent with overall philosophy of Ratcliffe on the Green, where Hibbs regularly features locally grown vegetables and herbs, even some that he grows in his own personal garden.
“People want to know where their food is coming from,” he concluded, while explaining his desire to one day operate a restaurant that uses only ingredients that have been harvested within 24 hours of service. He also told me about his recent trip to New York City, where he cooked at the James Beard House. This is quite a prestigious honor, reserved for some of the top chefs in the culinary world and coveted by the rest.
“It was my first time to cook at the Beard House, but hopefully it won’t be my last. I made the Black Truffle Grits, and everyone loved them! In fact, many of the guests said the grits should be our [Ratcliffe’s] signature dish.”
It was my own curiosity about these Black Truffle Grits that led me to ignore the practical, often overly frugal, voice in my head and to find myself at the door of Ratcliffe on the Green, being ushered in by the Chef.
I ordered two separate dishes. The first was the Coastal Shrimp with Anson Mills Grits. The plate arrived with a heaping mound of creamy, cheesy grits surrounded by seven meaty shrimp, topped with a colorful assortment of diced vegetables and crispy pieces of andouille sausage. The soothing texture and full corn flavor of the grits (it was if they were actually just-picked, fresh kernels) played nicely against the snappy texture of the shrimp, sausage, and vegetable combination.
But the real highlight of the meal was, as hoped, the side order of Black Truffle Grits. I’m not the kind of girl who likes things simply because everyone else does, and I was skeptical about how great these grits would really be. But after one small bite, I was stunned. The complex flavor was immediately unforgettable yet not overpowering. Immersed in the rich flavor of this small dish, I felt surprisingly satisfied and full. It was as if these grits had been created with me in mind, as if they had been my favorite food for years. The combination of timeless grits and rare, earthy truffles filled me with warmth and a longing to slow time so that I might savor both the ambiance of the restaurant and the depth of the food. As you can guess, these Black Truffle Grits were unlike anything I have ever tasted.
So here’s what I learned that night—my big life lesson: practicality and responsibility are good things, but there are moments when practicality should be thrown to the wayside. When I decided to follow my heart (and my intuition that there was a new frontier of grits greatness that I had not yet experienced), and entered the front door of Ratcliffe on the Green, the result was a meal that I will never forget. It may not be something I can afford every Friday night, but benchmark moments like this bring true richness to life.
~ Leigh M. Mcintosh
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