Circa 1886: Twenty-Six Years Later and Still Raising the Bar

There is a particular challenge facing long-established restaurants. After enough years of success, many become museums to their former glory. The room remains beautiful. The service remains polished. The menu remains familiar. The food, however, often stops evolving.

That is not what is happening at Circa 1886. Located in the original carriage house behind the historic Wentworth Mansion, Circa 1886 has now been serving Charleston diners for twenty-six years. On paper, it sounds like exactly the sort of restaurant that might have become trapped by its own reputation. Instead, Executive Chef Marc Collins, who has been leading the kitchen for twenty-five of those years, has somehow accomplished something increasingly uncommon in the restaurant world. He has kept the restaurant relevant.

The setting remains quintessentially Charleston. The historic carriage house is intimate, elegant, and undeniably romantic. Yet unlike many downtown fine dining destinations, Circa 1886 also offers a parking lot, a luxury Charleston diners should never take for granted.

Service is gracious without being stuffy. Warm without being overly familiar. Professional without feeling scripted. Craig guided our table through the evening with the quiet confidence of someone who has spent years mastering the art of Charleston hospitality. Nothing felt rushed. Nothing felt forced. The entire meal unfolded at exactly the pace it should have.

The beverage program follows a similar philosophy. The cocktail list is not designed to impress social media influencers. It is designed to make diners happy. My martini arrived appropriately filthy, the wine selections were thoughtful, and non-alcoholic options including unsweet tea were readily available.

Before the first course even arrived, the kitchen sent out an amuse-bouche that immediately set the tone for the evening. A bite of wild boar sausage paired with mushroom pâté and stone-ground mustard managed to be rustic, refined, and deeply satisfying all at once. It was not complicated. It was not showy. It was simply delicious. More importantly, it signaled that the kitchen intended to impress us from the very first bite rather than waiting for the entrées to do the heavy lifting.

The amuse-bouche would have been enough to get our attention. The courses that followed ensured they kept it. Because our group collectively lacks self-control when presented with an interesting menu, we decided to explore nearly the entire à la carte section. We began with the house-made cavatelli, citrus arugula salad, and foie gras.

The cavatelli was beautifully prepared. The pasta was properly cooked, the Benton's ham added depth, and the white cheddar and truffle remained balanced enough to enhance rather than dominate the dish.

The citrus arugula salad provided exactly the brightness the table needed. Oranges, grapefruit, prosciutto, manchego, avocado, and a well-executed avocado balsamic vinaigrette created a dish that felt fresh, light, and thoughtfully composed.

Then there was the foie gras. The foie gras deserves its own paragraph. Perfectly prepared foie gras would have been enough. Instead, the kitchen paired it with kumquat marmalade, charred onion meringue, and benne seed angel food cake. Each component was excellent individually. Together they became something extraordinary: richness, sweetness, acidity, smoke, texture, and warmth all collided in a bite that bordered on ridiculous.

I love my friends. I was still genuinely annoyed that I had agreed to share it. If you visit Circa 1886, order the foie gras. Then protect it. Be selfish. Don't share.

The entrées continued the momentum.

The beef tenderloin arrived perfectly medium rare with coriander roasted beets, potatoes, squash purée, and beef bacon demi-glace. The vegetables occasionally became overshadowed by the deeply earthy profile of the dish, but the beef itself was flawless.

The catch of the day, cod on this particular evening, was equally successful. The Lowcountry-inspired minestrone and parmesan clam broth created a surprisingly flavorful and satisfying presentation that showcased both the fish and the surrounding ingredients.

The sleeper hit of the evening, however, was the dry-aged Duroc pork chop. The char siu preparation, sweet potato beurre blanc, spicy broccolini, and crispy onions created a dish that balanced sweet, savory, and spice beautifully. The chop itself carried a gorgeous char while remaining juicy and tender throughout. Every person at the table commented on it. Every person was right.

My personal favorite was the sumac roasted swordfish. Swordfish is rarely my first choice when scanning a menu, but this preparation was exceptional. The sumac was perfectly balanced, adding brightness and complexity without overwhelming the fish. The unicorn grits provided a creamy foundation, and while I was unable to try the pineapple-green tomato relish because of my pineapple allergy, the kitchen graciously accommodated me by serving it on the side. My dining companions assured me it added even more depth to an already excellent dish. The result was a plate I had every intention of sharing. Then largely failed to do so.

Dessert somehow maintained the standard. The peach cobbler soufflé was beautifully executed with an impressive rise and excellent texture. If I have one criticism, it is that peach season deserves even more peach flavor.

The Key Lime Kiss delivered exactly what the name promises. Bright citrus, toasted meringue, blackberry ice cream, and enough sweetness to remind you that you are, in fact, eating dessert.

But the surprise star was the mascarpone cheesecake. Rather than presenting a traditional slice, the kitchen served the components in a deconstructed format that allowed each element to shine independently. Mercifully, they did not announce this fact with any unnecessary tableside explanation or culinary theater. They simply brought a beautiful plate of food. Every component was excellent. Every bite worked. The presentation was gorgeous.

The flavors were even better.

What impressed me most about Circa 1886 was not any individual dish. It was the consistency. After twenty-six years, many restaurants rely on nostalgia. Circa 1886 relies on execution. The rooms remain beautiful. The service remains gracious. The menu continues to evolve. The cooking remains ambitious without becoming pretentious. Most importantly, the restaurant still feels like it cares. That may be the hardest thing for any restaurant to maintain over a quarter century. Chef Marc Collins and his team make it look remarkably easy.