The chicken had been simmered in broth with soy sauce and fresh ginger, chilled, then deep fried. Chef and owner Conner Hinderks came by our table, and I asked him about the chicken’s coating. Was it rice flour with a little corn starch?

“Nope. Just corn starch. I wanted to be reminiscent of Chinese takeout chicken.”

“The kind served in the white box? With those sticky sweet sauces?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Hinderks moved to another table and I looked at my wife and laughed: “What other chef in our town is serving such amazing dishes influenced by cheap fast food?”

Conner fills up his (kind of) small plates with more punchy, bright flavors courtesy of a love for Far East spices, a technique our town hasn’t experienced since the dearly departed Mekong. Now that he and his better half Christina have settled into the space at 1112 Woodside Ave. – formerly home to Comal 864 – we Greenvillians need not have to consult the ‘gram to find them.

Conner’s home runs like his Szechuan steak, manchego and mushroom dumplings, ramp and crayfish pasta and those gloriously sticky ribs tossed in nuoc cham sauce and finished with cilantro and fried garlic all keep regular hours now. Judging by the jammed parking lot, they are secret no more. When the restaurant settled down, I asked Conner what was the most important lesson he learned from opening a brick-and-mortar location.

“The amount of tiny things that one has to manage,” he said. “So many times we had an issue crop up and I just wanted to throw ten thousand dollars at it. But that was money we didn’t have so we had to be plumbers, audio techs, jacks of all trades. We didn’t want a bunch of investors so we did a lot on the cheap. In fact while getting open our motto was we won’t buy the cheapest thing, but we will buy the second cheapest. And our community of friends really came around and made it all work.”

Conner pointed out a banquette style bench that was built by a retired master carpenter, a friend of a friend that offered up their services, gratis.

“What about your next restaurant?” I asked. “Have y’all thought about that?”

“Oh sure. Christina and I have those conversations often. I had two grandmothers and both lived into their 90s. One kept busy, always learning, always doing new things and she had a much more vibrant life than the one that just sat at home. So we plan on working and cooking and doing until we can’t.”

Little Secret, at 1112 Woodside Ave., serves dinner Thursday through Monday.

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A decent bottle of wine isn’t something to fear, either. Some countries have rules about the story a wine’s label should tell, and some do not. Some wines are made from grapes that happen to grow in more famous dirt than the same grape on the other side of the road. It’s not so much complicated as it is amusing. No one in Greenville knows this better than Liz Dowty Mitchell, owner of Camino Wine Merchant.

Open a year now, Camino is a welcome addition to our town’s blossoming culinary hub in the Overbrook area.

I recently met Bruce Wise, wine director of The Anchorage, at Camino. Liz offered us a glass of a recent acquisition, an “orange” wine from Slovenia. This style of wine isn’t made with actual oranges but rather it receives its Tropicana-style hue from extended contact with the grape’s skin. Liz informed us that Slovenia and its surrounding area is the ancestral home of orange wines.

I had only recently even heard of orange wine and wasn’t sure what to make of it but Liz offered up their history and appeal in just a few minutes, without consulting her phone. Bruce nodded approvingly as she did so. Liz received a phone call and excused herself briefly, and Bruce mentioned that Liz has an amazing knowledge of wine and holds multiple awards and certifications in wine. But don’t let any of that scare you away because Liz is charming and open to helping those with only a cursory interest in wine find something new and delicious, even though wine wasn’t her first love.

“I spent a lot of time in New Orleans, working in hospitality, and my dream was to open a restaurant,” she said. “I left New Orleans after Katrina for Southern California and while there I was introduced to the business of wine. Import, export, shipping, sales and so on, the whole business of wine, and realized this was where I fit in. This would be my future.”

When I was buying wine for my own restaurant, I loved a bottle of wine that came with a memorable story as that made it easier to sell. Liz agreed.

“A lot of what I do now is storytelling because a great bottle of wine should come with a great story. And much of this business is educational, for me and my customer.”

When you stop in at Camino, ask Liz to pour you a glass of something with a great story then admire her ability to make your glass of wine something much bigger than six ounces of fermented grape juice.

Camino Wine Merchant, at 1622 East North Street, is open Monday through Saturday. For more information, visit caminowinemerchant.com.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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I had been in Japan a few weeks prior and my lunch at Arisu, which was wonderful, and it felt similar to Japanese. Abigail, the owner’s daughter, set me straight.

“Korean preparations may look similar, but our food is bold and sometimes spicy, and we use a lot of gochugang (red pepper paste) and doenjang (fermented soybean paste),” she said. “Japanese cuisine is very subtle, ours is more aromatic and we love our garlic.”

Fast forward a couple of months for my third meal at Arisu where I was accompanied by chefs Dayna Lee Marquez and Steve Zurkey for dinner. Abigail gave the three of us lessons in Korean cuisine. Our first dish was tteokbokki, small cylinders of rice with noodles and braised vegetables in a lively sauce that reminded Steve of a beloved Italian preparation.

“Fra diavolo. With these sweet, and spicy peppers and mushrooms. And this scallion pancake is perfect,” he said.

Gamjajeon is Korean-style hash browns. A large disc of shredded potatoes mixed with scallions, cut like a pizza and served with a fortified soy sauce. Dayna’s eyes lit up on her first bite.

“So crunchy and yet warm and soft inside and a little dab of this sauce. Perfect.”

Next, we were served a bibimbap (meaning “mixed rice”) in a scorching hot stone bowl. I’ve heard different pronunciations of this dish and Abigail’s is the one I’ll use from now on: BeeBee-ehm-bap. The charm of this dish is as one eats the vegetables and egg that sit on top of the rice, the heat of the stone bowl creates a thin layer of sticky, almost caramelized, rice that one enjoys at the end.

Dayna agreed that it resembled a Spanish paella or a Mexican arroz rojo.

“The stone bowl even resembles a molcajete. Isn’t that cool?” she said. “All these ancient cultures were making the best of what they had at the time, and today we have all these great cuisines.”

I chimed in with: “A couple of years ago I was working in India and my first breakfast was bhindi masala, a soup of okra, tomatoes, onion, and garlic in a heady broth. I was instructed to place a fermented rice dumpling into my bowl then top it with soup. After doing so I recognized a dish of my New Orleans home, okra gumbo over rice.”/p>

The three of us agreed that, if one is willing to dig deeper, cuisines across the globe may not mimic but they do rhyme. One of our favorite dishes at Arisu 1099 was the kimchee, which is nothing more than pickled vegetables with a touch of heat to which Steve reminded us that a lack of refrigeration was the impetus to everything in food that is wonderful today.

Arisu 1099 at 1099 East Butler Road is open seven days a week for lunch and dinner.

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“When I was young, my parents wanted me to be a doctor or dentist, and I shadowed a few when I was looking at colleges trying to find my career,” Gomez said. “But it was in the restaurants, in the kitchen, where I was happiest. That led me to culinary school, which I loved. Chef Grissom and chef Patrick, they were wonderful.”

Happiness is seasoning. When the cooks love what they do, you can taste it. Gomez’s food is the product of a man content with his life choices. During a recent pop-up at John Ko’s Hone restaurant, my companion and I enjoyed pork tenderloin with a sunchoke puree, braised collard greens flavored with chipotle peppers, a brash redeye gravy, a slow-roasted chicken quarter with Italian Arborio rice, local root vegetables, and a mole verde resplendent with tomatillo, onion, garlic, cumin, oregano, sage, thyme and avocado leaf. Those were followed by roasted and seared sweet potatoes on a bed of black bean puree, topped with a cool queso fresco and a lively salsa macha.

My friend sighed and offered up: “I wish I could bring life to sweet potatoes like this. They’re so amazing.”

Amazing, indeed.

Ryan Gomez pop-up experiences

Monday through Friday, Gomez is the sous chef at the Poinsett Club. Several times a month, he hosts private dinners or pop-ups at various brick-and-mortar spaces in town. For my money, his food is the most intriguing, and most singular, of the host of talented chefs that delight our town with pop-ups or events. I’d love to see Gomez with his own restaurant, but that’s coming from my own selfish interests. That would save me from having to figure out where he’s cooking next weekend. However, there’s something to be said for stability.

“Life at the Poinsett Club is great and I work with some wonderful people,” Gomez said. “Chef David Porras and of course our GM, Charles Brewer.”

When I asked Gomez if there was a Hispanic-influenced restaurant within 500 miles of Greenville that he could point me to as influential, his first answer was a favorite of mine, right here in our town: Las Meras Tortas.

“I love Las Meras,” he said. “Their food feels and tastes like the best of Mexico. It’s friendly, comforting and always delicious. After that I’d say El Valle Kitchen in Atlanta, and I was recently in Bogota, Colombia, and dined at El Chato and the food there was extraordinary.”

Follow SolGVL on Instagram to find chef Ryan Gomez’s next extraordinary event.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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When I relayed this crime to Anthony Pepe, chef at DeMarco’s Italian, he made an exaggerated stabbing motion to his heart.

“Why would they do that? Pasta carbonara is one of those Italian pastas perfect in its simplicity,” he said. “No negotiations. Just follow a few time-honored steps and you have a wonderful dish.”

DeMarco’s is approaching its first anniversary, and while this was my first time dining here, a dozen or so of my chef pals chided me for being late to the party.

“Amazing,” “gorgeous” and “New York City legit” were just a few of the comments from those chefs, and after a spectacular meal with Mrs. Malik, we agreed with all of them.

Pepe is a Brooklyn transplant, and many know him from his days as the Pasta Addict. From there, he spent time at Jianna, and now he creates these gorgeous dishes in the shadow of the Greenville Drive stadium. When we dined, he treated us to some of his Valentine’s Day menu: roasted beet salad with whipped ricotta interspersed with pickled beets and beet chips; petit discs of crispy risotto topped with a cool, creamy crab salad and chili oil; and proper wood-fired pizza with pistachios, mortadella and hand-pulled mozzarella.

From Pasta Addict to DeMarco’s

DeMarco’s sommelier, Michael Pickering, provides a polished level of hospitality to our town, and the visual experience of their backlit onyx bar is quite fetching. My wife, Amy, mentioned she felt as if we were in Manhattan or London; the composition of the interior is that arresting. Lisa, our server that night, eased through the bustling dining room as if she were on skates. There is much to love at DeMarco’s.

After indulging in Pepe’s hard work, I asked him about Valentine’s and why so many of us equate pasta with romance.

“It’s that whole ‘Lady and the Tramp’ experience,” he said. “Nothing satisfies our senses like a great pasta dish.”

While he said those words, Amy and I were sharing a dish of his razor-thin tagliatelle pasta with shaved truffles, a bit of pasta water, whole butter and Parmesan. I know it sounds deceptively simple, yet it may have been the finest pasta I have had. And that includes the pasta I’ve made. Pepe smiled and thanked me, and I thought that perhaps those words have healed the wound of that rosemary cream carbonara.

By the time you read this, DeMarco’s will be booked up for Valentine’s Day, but great pasta never goes out of style.

DeMarco’s Italian, located at 366 Field St. in downtown Greenville, is open seven nights a week for dinner; the website has parking tips.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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Stephanie Burnette agrees, and we recently sat down at OJ’s for — what else? — fried chicken, and to discuss her new book, “100 Things To Do in Greenville, SC Before You Die.” Her book only lists a couple dozen restaurants and, naturally, OJ’s is one of them.

“I got a phone call from Reedy Press in St. Louis, and they asked me if I’d like to write a book for them. After discussing it with the editors I realized this could be my love letter to Greenville, an opportunity to write about all the places I love,” Burnette said. “Keep in mind that I may have different tastes from you, or someone else that buys this book.”

It’s one woman’s take on her favorite meals, drinks, activities and personalities of Greenville. That woman just so happens to be our town’s most prolific food and travel writer, and she’s written for this newspaper, Eater, Southern Living, and a host of other media outlets in and around the South. When I invited her to OJ’s, she immediately responded: “Fried chicken at OJ’s? Yes!”

Heck, we practically ordered the same thing: fried chicken with macaroni and cheese. We differed on fried okra and collard greens. I got the okra.

“You know what I love about OJ’s?” she asked. “They treat everyone like they’re special.”

That they do. For $15, you can get a great meal with a level of hospitality that lots of white-tablecloth restaurants cannot manage.

Back to her book. Burnette has a few Easter eggs in the book, and good advice on parking.

“I put the Easter eggs in there for our Greenville folks,” she said. “And the parking tips … don’t you want to know where to park whenever you go out to eat? Especially in a new town.”

While chatting, we were offered more tea and some hot sauce for the chicken. Since we both have a New Orleans connection, we opted for Tabasco. I asked her if she was on the other side of the country and was served a particular meal from a Greenville kitchen, would she recognize it?

“Sure,” she said. “This chicken, the beef tartare and chocolate cake from Scoundrel, shrimp and grits from Soby’s. What about you?”

I agreed with those and some dishes from Comal 864, the barbecue sandwich from Henry’s, and most anything Conner Hinderks has made. I then asked her what makes our town so wonderful.

“We are more adorable and hospitable than cutting edge,” Burnette said, “and that’s OK because Greenville is so downright lovely.”

I had to agree.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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I don’t recall having a bite of food that knocked my socks off, but I was a young, jaded culinary student from New Orleans and was constantly reminded that ours was the finest food town on the planet. I do remember some wonderful street food, and my favorite was fish and chips. Fresh cod, dipped in a beer batter and fried until its crust shattered like a Leidenheimer’s baguette.

Served in a newspaper cone along with a massive handful of fried potatoes, was there anything more British? I propped myself on an outdoor table with a glass of bitters and marveled at the V-12 E-Type Jaguar that drove past. I believed I was the luckiest guy in the world.

Recently I was told by someone’s whose opinion I trust that if I love fish and chips, I should get to The Oxbow on Old Easley Highway on a Thursday night.

“It’s proper fish and chips, mate,” they said.

That it is.

Owners Alyssa and Ray Wyatt — she’s American, he is English — met while working in Australia. Both are lovers of hospitality, and their resumes include stops in Tanzania, Myanmar, Spain and France. Ray has spent time cooking in impeccable kitchens, yet he loves the simplicity of fish and chips. Ours arrived steaming hot with the aromas of salt and beer. I mentioned my fish and chips story to Alyssa and we were both disappointed that newspapers are no longer considered safe for serving fried fish.

Later, I asked Ray about his favorite newspaper for said fish.

“The Hastings Observer from the mid-’80s!” he said. “My very first job was as a paperboy in my village, and I used to deliver the Hastings Observer on Thursday. I swear, sometimes that paper bag was bigger than me.”

While chatting with Alyssa at the bar, a British couple wandered in and smiled broadly at the sight of the Union Jack. They had just moved to Greenville a month prior and were already homesick for a little slice of Great Britain. The Oxbow, located just west of the Pickens-Greenville county line, only serves its fish and chips on Thursday and Friday. They often sell out before 7 p.m.

Our planet’s most memorable dishes are ones that elicit a place and a time. While dining at The Oxbow, I realized how fortunate I am to have had fish and chips in London, outside, served in an unsafe newspaper. Fish and chips at The Oxbow, for me and many others, is a time machine.

The Oxbow, at 1307 Old Easley Highway, is open five days a week.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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Approximately five hours north, Raleigh is a look at our town’s future, maybe 20 years from today.

We spent three nights at the hip Longleaf Hotel. Once a motor lodge from the early 1960s, an age of vinyl and velour, it now sparkles with modern touches while embracing its past. The Longleaf Lounge offers early-morning, locally roasted coffee, as well as sublime cocktails and conversation in the evening. Its “Investment Advisor” cocktail — a blend of two bourbons with a black cherry, a dash of vanilla and rosemary — took the chill off our first evening.

That night our family dined on exceptional Southern favorites (fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, collard greens) at Beasley’s Chicken & Honey. The fast-casual approach to serving handmade food had me pining for another restaurant just like this one, in our town.

On Friday, we ventured into Raleigh proper where we toured the stunning North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences with my niece, who happens to hold a doctorate in natural sciences. This museum has discovered a species of tyrannosaur, Nanotyrannus lancensis, that was only a tenth the size of Tyrannosaurus rex. Its bones are currently being studied by museum staff.

After a few hours we bribed my niece with the promise of a memorable lunch and on the recommendation of my brother, we rambled into Press, a cafe in downtown Raleigh. As soon as I closed the massive front door, I realized I was in restaurant-design heaven. Sure, we had a soothing, hand-crafted lunch courtesy of chef Rodney Steele that was studded with sourdough breads, house-cured salmon, farmers market vegetables and steaming soup. What really captivated me was the design. Press is one of the cleverest restaurants I’ve ever visited. It’s dappled with smart touches everywhere and its level of feng shui gave me hope for the future of our planet.

Our server recommended a visit to Videri Chocolate Factory, where a team of chocolate lovers produce delicious chocolates from beans sourced from across Central and South America.

When our time in Raleigh came to a close and we headed south, we discussed Greenville and its rush of development and whether it still had a personality. I asked my wife: “If there was a song, one fairly modern, that would describe our town, what would that be?” After some debate, I settled on Glen Campbell’s “Rhinestone Cowboy.”

Our town dreams to become the glitz and glamour of Broadway, wherever that may be. We’ve been getting cards and letters from people we don’t know thanks to our Southern hospitality yet we, like much of the Southeast, is flirting with those big-city issues. If there’s a song you believe captures our town, let me know.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant coach and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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I’d already made one visit and was served some of the best wings I’ve had in this town. Julian beat me to the Tavern and had already had a plate of the Kansas City nachos and some chicken bog bites. Chicken bog is risotto’s distant cousin, a rice dish made with meat and a few aromatic vegetables and served wet with broth. It’s not soup or stew, but is much closer to a Louisiana etouffee.

At the Tavern, the bog is rolled into a ball, chilled, breaded and deep fried. If that sounds too new and fancy for bar food, arancini — the Italian version of this dish of cooked and fortified fried rice balls — dates back to the 10th century.

Taverns are supposed to be dark and dusty. They serve lousy food, their beer choices can be counted on one hand, and their service leaves a lot to be desired.

All of those axioms have been turned on their head at the updated City Tavern. The new menu is full of familiar favorites such as stuffed mushrooms, quesadillas, meatloaf, and fish and chips — and it’s all handmade. Partners Jeremy Krauze and Chris Rosensteel, the dynamic culinary duo behind Society Sandwich Bar and Social Club, have breathed new life into the tavern.

Thanks to our state’s liability insurance for any business selling adult beverages, opening something new like City Tavern is quite the challenge. But I’ll make the case that places like City Tavern are important. They offer a social environment where strangers can meet and greet one another, share a pint and connect over sports, a certain song or a plate of wings. Modern cellphone-based lives do not offer those face-to-face connections that are critical to humanity’s peaceful coexistence.

“You’re getting all existential on me, chef,” Loue said. “Here, have some of this sandwich.”

Loue offered half of his Cajun Philly cheesesteak sandwich. A large hoagie roll filled with shaved beef, served with battered onion rings and ranch dressing with a (small) kick of cayenne, was more than enough for two and it was quite tasty. Mal, our server, pointed out that although it was quiet when we were in — it was early on a weeknight — the Tavern can get rambunctious on trivia or Karaoke nights.

A while back I wrote about Society Sandwich Bar and Social Club and its dedication to delicious, handmade food in a bar setting. Krauze answered: “We could’ve taken a safer route, but where’s the fun in that?”

That commitment to fun and delicious is serving them well. City Tavern, at 128 N. Main St., is open daily.

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As a young cook I remember reading stories of subterranean mushrooms that were particular only to certain storied areas of Europe: black truffles from a small region in France, white truffles from a small region in Italy. At one time, they were hunted by pigs until dogs took over because their sense of smell — and self-control — is more acute.

Massi bolted, nose to the forest floor. He raced through streams and into thickets of laurel, maple and beech. In a stream bank he dug enthusiastically, found two golf ball-sized truffles and was rewarded with a few treats. Our hunt continued for a couple of hours and yielded maybe 4 ounces of truffle.

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It doesn’t matter if we just had breakfast or dinner, because if we don’t stop, I’ll lie awake at night wondering what I missed. Tiger O’Rourke, a partner at Henry’s, has the same habit.

“I’m the same way, John. If we’re on the road and there’s a joint on the road, we’re going to pull in for that same reason,” O’Rourke said. “Barbecue restaurants like ours are a dying breed. There’s so much commercialized, modernized barbecue out there that lacks love or creativity, so if there’s a legit joint on the side of the road, I’m there.”

O’Rourke began working at Henry’s as a dishwasher while a freshman at Clemson. Today, he and partner Beau Wilder are owners. But I see their calling as protectors of an important legacy. Much like Paris Mountain, that building, that pulled-pork sandwich, is one of our town’s endearing, serotonin-inducing landmarks. It is one of four iconic restaurants in our town and the one most tied to our agricultural past.

In the South, we revere classic barbecue made the true way, with cured oak, hickory or pecan wood, salt, pepper, vinegar and pork, and it has to be prepared by people that love the art and skill and are fascinated by the process.

“I feel like everyone on our team puts their heart and soul into their work,” O’Rourke said. “Henry’s has taken on a life of its own and that’s due to the people that love to come to work here. You have to love the process because you have to baby great barbecue. The fire changes every day. The wood is always slightly different. The pork never weighs exactly the same. The result of great smoked pork should stay the same.”

But we do not live on smoked pork alone. The slaw, the beans and those hand-cut fries are standouts. Beau Wilder shared some fry history with me.

“When Beau Hammond opened Henry’s in 1992, they only served coleslaw and simmered green beans. When Tiger was here, they decided to serve fries, and they’ve been hand cut since then.”

The fries are exceptional. I believe that a pulled-pork sandwich with a side of fries and a half-and-half iced tea might be one of our town’s perfect meals, and that meal is about $13. O’Rourke told me that previous owner Beau Hammond had a mantra he lived by: “You want to be fair to the customer first. The money will come after that.”

Henry’s Smokehouse, at 240 Wade Hampton Blvd. in Greenville or 123 N. Main St. in Simpsonville, is open seven days a week.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant coach and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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On our first night we dined at the refined, eight-seat restaurant (a Kappo) Nishiazabu Sushi Ichi owned by chef Yoichi Sato. Over the years, I’ve worked with some great cooks — men and women who moved carefully, deliberately and smoothly even during the busiest of times. After two hours in Sato’s company, I realized there is a much higher level of a cook’s movement. He never wasted a motion and his knife work, his cleanliness, his submission to pristine ingredients was mesmerizing.

Perhaps my most memorable bite of food in Japan was a petite bite of Sato’s Spanish Mackerel, delivered that day from a fisherman, smoked over hay a minute before it was served, offered with soy sauce Sato brewed, and topped with a few grains of sea salt and a dab of wasabi that he grated just for that bite. Sublime doesn’t come close to describing that singular experience, and that was our first meal in Japan.

However, a visit to Japan is so much more than a great meal. If one doesn’t appreciate the precision, the process to great food, you’re only understanding a small part of the culture.

While dining at Rokojuan we were served beautiful, delicate dollops of agar-agar infused with fresh flowers. Picking these up with chopsticks was challenging and rewarding.

At Hotel Tou Nishinotoin in Kyoto we were offered a choice of Western-style breakfast or traditional Japanese meal. Naturally, we chose Japanese. Rice porridge was served with a variety of pickled vegetables, shaved ginger, Miso broth, soft tofu made in-house and grilled fish. We were invited to add rice to a small bowl, top with the vegetables and miso broth and enjoy. We did, and I’d never enjoyed tofu until that moment.

Our final meal was coffee from Nanufuku Coffee Shop in Gion. When it was time to head to the train station, I went outside to hail a taxi in the light rain. Even though we’d spent maybe $10 on two cups of her coffee, the proprietor couldn’t bear watching me stand in the rain without an umbrella, so she grabbed one of her own and covered me with it. I told her I was fine and was not made of sugar, which gave her a laugh. Nevertheless, she stayed put until the taxi came.

As Amy and I scooted into the car, she bowed repeatedly and thanked us with “arigato ozaimus,” which means thank you very much. In that moment I realized my standard of hospitality was wildly exceeded for a mere $10.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant coach and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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As our town’s only James Beard Award winner, he’s also quite humble about the whole thing. I recently joined him for dinner at Sum Bar, Khailing Neoh’s dim sum bistro that resides in a former auto-repair shop on Washington Street and was the subject of Oshiro’s 2024 documentary, “Great Wall,” that won him that aforementioned award.

“I love the way Khailing is shaping her story, and the food, the experience Sum Bar is serving is quite wonderful and enjoyable,” Oshiro said.

Oshiro — “Rio” to his friends — is working on his next big project involving another chef in another state, and his status as a James Beard Award winner will open some doors that may previously have been tightly guarded. Over siu mai (shrimp and pork dumplings) and a rice bowl topped with pork belly, we shared stories based in food.

I told him I spent the better part of 10 years trying to grab the James Beard particular brass ring, and while on vacation in Maine in 2007 we went out of our way to have lobster rolls at Waterman’s on Penobscot Bay. Waterman’s won a James Beard American Classics Award in 2001 and when we arrived at the unassuming shack, that award was hanging over the ordering window, next to simple light fixture. When I told the owner my wife and I owned a fine-dining restaurant in South Carolina, she enthusiastically replied: “Oh, you’re a chef, you know we have one of those Beard Award things. It’s right there next to that light fixture.”

Oshiro laughed, delighted with the sense of charm. If only achieving that level of excellence were that easy, we’d all be doing it. At that, we were served shrimp and lettuce wraps with the shrimp served chilled and enveloped in a coconut sauce, and flash-fried green beans tossed in rice vinegar, garlic and oyster sauce.

I recalled bringing my car into this place so many years ago, when it was W.N. Watson. The employees smiled readily and offered great service at a fair price, as does Sum Bar. Except an unexpected visit to W.N. Watson might cost $800, whereas dinner for two at Sum Bar might set you back less than $100. And when you have finished eating, your car is probably still in one piece.

Our laughter was interrupted with a plate of miso crab claws, roasted and served with chili oil and a spicy mayonnaise. Growing up in south Louisiana, crab claws were a common appetizer, something that could be served quickly if the neighbor’s stay crowded up against supper time. We bit into those wonderful crab claws and smiled. How appropriate that “dim sum” translates to “dot the heart.”

Sum Bar at 307 E. Washington St. serves dinner Wednesday through Sunday and lunch on Saturday.

“City Juice” is a colloquial term for a glass of tap water served at a diner. John Malik is a restaurant coach and hospitality consultant. He can be reached at chefjohnmalik@gmail.com.

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I’m a south Louisiana native, and a longtime resident of Greenville. I attended neither LSU nor Clemson. I do love a good party though, and when our good friends Greg and Tammy invited us to tailgate with them for the season opener, my wife, Amy, and I readily agreed.

“Could she cook?” Zak asked.

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