A Friday in North Central

Charleston is a hard city to love in the depths of summer. The heat and humidity permeate everything. This year’s drought has made it harder. This past Friday, storms finally moved through, and for the first time in weeks, it was 70.

We headed to one of our favorite neighborhood spots, Renzo. The front corner stoop at the entrance was filled with patrons, waiting for their table or leaving after their meal, seeking shelter from the last drops of rain. We passed some friends leaving as we snagged two seats at the bar. “Meet us at Graft for an after-dinner wine,” they said on their way out. We happened to sit next to a neighbor, an interior designer, from a few blocks over, whom I met at one of my favorite coffee shops in the neighborhood, Babas on Meeting. Another neighbor and good friend had worked with this designer as a freelancer.

Over a Negroni, a Caesar salad, a glass of chilled French red table wine, the best Korean fried chicken in town, and my favorite ‘Kevin McAllister’ cheese pizza, we struck up a conversation with the neighbor, her husband, and the owner about our neighborhood, North Central. “What street do you live on?” “Does it flood?” People who do not know me well do not expect my fluency on how, why, and where streets flood in Charleston.

We discussed Kings Plaza, a 1960s-era shopping center with the neighborhood’s only grocery stores and an abandoned CVS storefront, and what the site's future might hold. We pondered what the under-construction Lowcounty Lowline, an abandoned rail corridor down the heart of the peninsula that’s being converted to a linear park, could bring. Another friend, the owner of a neighborhood goods-and-coffee shop, Sightsee, slipped through the front door, grabbed his takeout order, and disappeared back onto Huger Street.

After dinner, we headed a few blocks south to Graft as brilliant lightning flashed across the sky. Another band of storms was approaching, and we made it into the bar just before another downpour arrived. The place was packed and, other than the staff, we didn’t recognize anyone.

Graft opened in 2018. It wasn’t the first bar or destination in the area, but it was part of a migration of several establishments that continue to slowly expand northward along King Street, into the heart of North Central and the Upper Peninsula. When we bought our house in 2019, the proximity to Monarch Wine and the Harbinger Cafe was a factor in the decision. Across the street from the cafe and wine shop, UncLeon’s, a long-standing barbershop, was open and served as a gathering spot for long-time residents. Often, folks would sit outside of UncLeon’s on the sidewalk, conversations and laughter mixing into tunes from an old, silver boom box.

Over time, UncLeon’s closed. The pandemic came, then property values skyrocketed. Old homes were bought, renovated, and sold. It was no different than the house we bought only a few years prior, but now we are members of the North Central community.

As the rain subsided, we finished our glasses of wine and drifted further south to the Recovery Room. The dive bar opened the year after I moved to the Charleston area. From 2014 to 2023, it sold the most 12-oz cans of PBR in the country. I’ve heard they lost the title to a bar in Nashville. The bouncer wanted $5 cash to enter. We turned around and walked away; lightning was still streaking across the sky.