My first restaurant child turns 11 tomorrow. She was born from bluegrass vibe and charm with a side of sawmill gravy. We walked through your dining room admiring the subway tiled walls along the open kitchen, reclaimed barn wood stage, magnificent fireplaces that made you feel like you could prop your feet up on the old round coffee tables while sipping libations and listen to string bands, acoustic sets and electric. We had Shovels and Rope and Marcus King, old school favs like Doug Jones and awesome bands that got the crowd going like Strung Like A Horse.

Grand chandeliers and dreams this concept had soul, energy and love. My partner and I walked through your doors after driving by and seeing a sign on your door. You were probably building number 20 we visited over the years and as soon as I stepped foot into that old Brioso place I knew it was the right spot. Like an arrow through the bullseye. I went home and created you in one night. I lie when I say that because although the concept was created that night I edited and re-edited the menu fourteen thousand times before we opened. My partner handled the FOH and together we made this concept unique. She was a time capsule of an upcoming musical generation of Mumford and Sons, Avett Brothers, Pokey Lafarge with a side of old school Southern Culture on the Skids (hence the name) and a dash of Drive By Truckers .

We gave our front of the house freedom to express themselves through style of white cotton shirts, suspenders, bowties and southern attitude. Our staff loved her and her vibe, the food, the experience. We had made a southern Appalachian oasis in the middle of a fucking Cherrydale strip mall.

I wrote that menu like a song. I poured my everything to get each item to read like a fucking sonnet. Fun names like Big Mama’s Meatloaf, Pleasantburger (still one of my fav names, thanks Jenny) Dixie Land Poutine. We made ridiculous waffle, and pot roast sandwiches, shrimp po’boy tacos and tater tots with pimento cheese fondue with chopsticks to dip and smothered with sriracha. Truck loads of banana pudding and enough fried chicken to feed Kentucky.

My chef and I closed up the friends and family night with a bottle of vodka and came into work opening day on three hours sleep. We didn’t give a shit we were too damn excited to be hungover. We made sauces and dressings on the fly. We even succumbed to the great site of Epicurious for last minute ideas for the 15 menu edits the night before. We made a great team at that time.

Southern opened with a whisper. Our first menu item that went out the kitchen window was the popular Pork nachos. Sort of.. We left off the pork, slaw and cheese. The first two months were sluggish and scary. We were a ghost town. We didn’t order our sign in time so all we had was a plastic banner over our doors. Our kitchen staff was made up of half talent and half rookie applicants that came from the bus stop. Our baby was in trouble.

We had brunch on our minds but we wanted to get the dinner service running smooth before we tried another shift. Once we realized that it was essential to be open for brunch we took our chance and holy fucking shit did we get smacked.

We opened at 11am and closed at 1. We sold out of chicken.. and bacon.. and biscuits aaaand eggs. We got popped on the chin and crashed. We wanted to be champions of brunch but we were only contenders at the time. I had just lost my chef the day before. No one on my line had ever cooked brunch including yours truly. I was a steakhouse man. After dusting ourselves off and tripling our brunch inventory we got back in the ring and kicked the shit out of brunch. For several years we were the brunch champions. That’s not pride that is fact. Brunch became synonymous with Southern. We had lines going all the way down to the post office. When we got our sign on the building December our dinner business literally tripled that night.

Southern Culture was my first album, my first top 40 hit that raced up the charts. You pour your heart into that first one. All your favorite recipes you’ve written over the years. We were like Jimmy Hendrix’s Experience, Van Halen 1978 or Guns and Roses Appetite for Destruction.

We were kicking ass. We were cocky. We had a great front of the house staff, cream of the crop. The kitchen at one time had 6 sous on the line all capable of running their own team. We were fucking loaded with talent like the Miami Hurricanes of 2001. We put Cherrydale on the map as a dining destination and let me tell you that ain’t easy.

We stretched ourselves a little when we opened Dive. We put a dent in SC’s armor by growing too close to home. Egos grew as did tensions. Strong business builds relationships slow business can burn them down.

When Dive opened we lost a little luster in the company. Our cockiness was replaced with another kick in the teeth. Greenville wasn’t ready for her and while we tried fixing it it caused some issues with creative expression from many sides. We tried brunch there but you don’t open up a Carowinds next to a Disney World. Families get split sometimes and it’s hard to keep everyone at the same cookout year after year. Talent leaves to do their own thing or they want to start a family and I tell people all the time I teach my staff to leave the nest and grow.

Southern started to change or evolve. She used to be fun, glam, big blonde hair, pearl snaps with cowboy boots. Suddenly she was wearing high heels, dinner dresses and drinking red wine instead of PBR. We were posting white table cloths, wine bottles and elevated proteins. We went from mason jars to stems. We were getting a little stuffy. People went from singing with the bands to complaining about the level of music.

LTO took all of the bar vibe from southern and moved it next door. Two popular restaurants with two others fighting for parking lot spaces on weekend nights.

Staff that were family became social security numbers. When it was just Southern I knew everyone by name, their significant others and even favorite poets.

When she turned 5 Southern lost some charm. Things change as do visions. It happens, families split when you get too big. When we opened LTO the whole energy shifted to growth instead of perfection.

Southern, being the mother ship, it meant taking her talent and moving it around. In other words diluting it.

2020 when covid hit she lost a little soul as did her creator. We tried to recapture some of the old vibe by going full blown Nashville with strings on the stage every night but that stage had sat empty too long, Greenville wasn’t having it.

After her 8th year she moved on to someone else. Like watching your child move on to an adopted family. I haven’t talked to her in years. All of the founding family have come and gone. I probably wouldn’t recognize her if I passed her on the street.

Happy number 11 SC. Hope they give you some candles to blow out this time.