There are few greater joys in life than to wander the streets of Charleston in the evening, the light and shadow of the holy city and the sea salt in the air guiding you near the haunted past, toward cobblestones and the maze of the French Quarter. The quiet of the port pierced by the occasional gull and the stopped-up cannons at every turn bring you back to the age of Henry Timrod, when ships brought the Carolinas “Saxon steel and iron to her hands, And summer to her courts.”
As a believer that liquor has seasons, in the summer I shift to good gin, and for the most inventive cocktails on the East Coast there is no comparison to Gin Joint. A long room with Art Deco touches and a stunning collection of bottles, the bar has that hallmark of a great establishment — it was bought by the bartender. James Bolt, a son of the Appalachians who went from drinking moonshine as a teenager to the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York, returned to Charleston to work under renowned chef Sean Brock (Husk, McCrady’s), then made drinks and now owns the Gin Joint. What Bolt has done to the place is impressive — and may leave you canceling that dinner reservation to stay and savor the place into the evening.
The bartender this evening is Dylan, who confesses his love for the Nicolas Cage film Pig and an aspiration to remember, as that main character does his meals, every drink that he makes for everyone. His primary irritation is that the bar’s best tiki cups keep getting stolen from the veranda. He believes there is a rum for everyone. But it seems criminal to come to the Gin Joint and have anything other than one of the eighty bottles that line the wall behind the small corner bar.
The menu at Gin Joint offers a sort of magic that goes beyond a Bartender’s Choice — a list of words, some of flavor but others just a mood or a mindset, that you can pair for a unique concoction. I have never stopped by without trying the wildest combinations in an effort to create a challenge. If I had, I never would have come across the phenomenal French Pearl, an ice-cold combination of gin, lime and absinthe with a touch of honeysuckle that cools the mind after a day of shoeleather work in the hot sun. You could drink these all night, but with the variety in front of you, why stop at just one option? This is the South — it’s fine to move slow.
This article was originally published in The Spectator’s May 2024 World edition.
