Faced with the daunting decision of finding a place to eat on a Sunday night in the swamps of Charleston, we did a quick search on YELP and came up with CPH. Armed with a menu preview, we set out with stomachs rumbling. But beware,...fellow diners, for the menu on Yelp is like a mirage in the desert—seductive, yet ultimately deceitful. Prepare to add an extra $5 to each tantalizing dish (menu clearly needs updating). Navigating the quiet Sunday evening streets of MTP, we discovered CPH with relative ease, though the parking lot seemed to defy the laws of geometry by sloping in a direction seemingly at odds with the entrance. No matter, for we were on a quest for sustenance and were not to be deterred by mere spatial puzzles. Stepping through the threshold, we were greeted with a decor best described as "Hipster Chic meets Reclaimed Wood Extravaganza." Behold, a chalkboard of epic proportions adorned the wall, chronicling the favored beers of the millennial generation. And lo and behold, even Old White Guy Beer made a cameo appearance under the illustrious title of "MACRO BEERS." A nod to the past, no doubt. Our appetizer of choice was the corn fritters, a dish that apparently underwent a mysterious metamorphosis between the kitchen and our table, for it bore little resemblance to its photographic representation on Yelp. Meanwhile, my wife opted for a Caesar Salad with a salmon twist, while I, embracing a time-honored tradition, ordered Fish and Chips. Alas, the fries that accompanied my maritime delight possessed a certain soggy disposition, similar to that of the fries served at the much maligned Tattooed Moose (one of our least favorite restaurants). As the meal drew to a close, we braced ourselves for the grand reckoning—yes, the bill. A sum of approximately $67 materialized before us, causing our eyebrows to raise in synchronized astonishment. This culinary escapade seemed to exact a slightly higher toll than we anticipated, especially considering we'd only ordered one appetizer, two entrees, a beer and a soda. But ah, such is the nature of the transitory Post-Covid dining landscape. When all was said and done, we were out almost a C-note for a rather unremarkable meal (though the piped in music was enjoyable). Would we return to CPH, you ask? Well, yes, possibly, maybe, perhaps. But not with the haste of a hare being pursued by a particularly motivated tortoise. This establishment, it seems, occupies the curious realm of being a bar that serves food, though not necessarily the sort of bar or the sort of beer where members of the Greatest Generation (or at least their kids) might feel inclined to dine.More
215
116
25
9
6
