MARCH 14, 2007
RESTAURANT
REVIEW Wolfin' it Down
Parson
Jack's Cafe preaches to the converted, whether you'r naughty or nice
The Preacher's
Daughters at Parson Jack's Cafe serve up
Leslie McKellar
The preacher's
daughters at parson jack's café serve up some of the best bar grub in the
suburbs
Parson Jack's Café
American/Eclectic -- Casual
Entrées: $5-$10
West Ashley
769-7775
Lunch, Dinner, Sunday Brunch
Anyone who has ever grown up around a dirt-floor, back-country bar
and grill knows that salvation is truly found in the distinctive aroma of hot
wings, cigarette smoke, and High Karate cologne swirling together among a line
of hunched backs nursing their beers. And why shouldn't such scenes be dear to
the Southern ethos? Places like that dot the state of
Like any good populist joint, Parson Jack's comes with an
expressive story -- something about a lost dog and a shipwrecked preacher long
ago meeting up and entertaining Lowcountry crowds with fire and brimstone,
hence the name Parson Jack -- a compelling, if altogether superfluous, tale.
The short "Daisy Duke" britches on the waitresses and suggestive
slogan, "Will you be really good ... or just a little evil?"
obviously owe much more to the proprietor's former gig running a Hooters than
any concocted tale about sermonizing at the side of a mischievous dog.
More importantly, they also sport some excellent food and drink --
as far as suburban "bar and grills" go. Sure, the waitresses are
supposed to be "preachers' daughters" in their knee socks and tight
pants, patrons recline in old church pews, and the dollar bills tacked to the
acoustic tile ceiling represent donations to the SPCA, rewarding store
merchandise purchases, but the concept is clear -- pack them in for cold beer
and bar food.
Orders seem to take awhile, but while you wait, you can peruse an
extensive selection of brews -- I counted 66 by the bottle, three on tap, and a
promise to stock any other flavor requested (a nice way to cultivate a loyal
clientele).
From a Mickey's "Big Mouth" to a tall, shiny
The real reason to veer into Parson Jack's comes in the form of
some of the tastiest bar grub to be had from Awendaw to
The fries are equally potent -- fresh blobs of pure starch, crispy
and pillowy soft in the center, the whole beautiful pile begging for a slather
of ketchup. Pizzas hit the hot stone with a wide selection of accoutrements.
Mozzarella, garlic butters, and tangy marinara adorn the thin crusts with the
perfect amount of sloppy ooze dripping from the thin, shattering dough onto the
plate. For $6.99 a pop, the kitchen offers a variety of custom designs, and
unusual items like fried chicken, yellow squash, zucchini, and avocado for the
adventurous.
They also serve acceptable cheesesteaks, technically a
"Philly French Dip" ($7.99) served with fries and an onion soup
dipping sauce, which on its own would constitute a satisfying meal, but pales
in comparison to the burger ($7.39) -- a thick slab of beef oozing with the
richness that only the best burgers seem to have. They cook it the way you want
it, from rare to fully dead, and a medium rare specimen seems just about
perfect, just pink with a trickle of juice that threatens to run down your arms
and inevitably end up in your lap. Each bite is a brilliant little morsel,
glistening and grand, three-quarters of an inch thick, perhaps the best burger
you will find in town (if only they offered bacon and pimento cheese). Great
burgers such as these must be eaten with the same precaution as lobster,
leaning over the plate with a large napkin tucked tightly against your chin,
lest the dribble catch your collar. Or you could simply forget about that
starched white shirt and let caution fly, belly up to the bar among the locals,
lean into the plate, and revel in the simple beauty of really good food,
regular Joes, and an ice-cold beer.