Kultura: I’m Not Messy, I’m Exuberant
Before dessert, I apologized to our server, Sidrah, for the condition of our table. She looked at the evidence and delivered her verdict: “You’re not messy. You’re exuberant.”
Sidrah is lovely, hospitable, and clearly an excellent judge of character. I have adopted her ruling as a permanent defense. She is also now my friend.
Noel and I went to Kultura as a little treat for not cussing out people who write us checks. As per the Rules of Court, we ordered as though we were up against a discovery deadline. (Noel takes her obligation to check out both the apps and cocktail menus extremely seriously.)
The kinilaw arrived with fresh tuna, coconut leche, yuzu kosho, cucumber, and mint, and promptly entered a competition I had not intended to hold. I have loved the tuna at Jackrabbit Filly and the crudos at Marbled & Fin. This was as good as either, and perhaps better. The tuna was pristine and cut perfectly. Every flavor had a job: the coconut softened the citrus and heat, while the cucumber gave the crunch and the mint kept the whole thing fresh. It was creative without losing sight of the fish, and balanced so well that I wanted every bite to last longer. The octopus had stiff competition before it even reached the table.
Then came the pugita. Because I cannot eat pineapple, the kitchen kindly served it on the side for Noel. The octopus was cooked perfectly, and the green curry sauce was unlike the curry flavor I expected. It was subtler and more complex, yet still unmistakably curry, with just enough heat to bring out the flavor of the octopus. I kept trying to pin down what made the sauce so interesting and kept taking another bite instead. The kinilaw had serious competition.
These were the two dishes I kept thinking about as the rest of dinner unfolded.
The arroz caldo was my biggest surprise. I saw “rice porridge” and prepared myself for a dutiful spoonful. Instead, I got garlic, ginger, mushroom XO, smoked trout roe, a soft egg, and a bowl with considerably more going on than it had any obligation to deliver.
The hilaw, wagyu tartare on crispy rice cakes, was good, but after the tuna and octopus it felt a little restrained.
The hipon was Kultura’s take on shrimp and grits: coconut grits with grilled shrimp, a tempura mushroom, and adobo sauce. It was tasty but compared to the other interesting and bolder flavors, it did not turn my head.
I do not generally seek out pork belly, yet I enjoyed the pancit with its creamy calamansi soy sauce, noodles, roe, and sunny egg. I wanted a splash of vinegar to sharpen it, and the roe did not make much of a case for itself to be included. That said, I refused to share the leftovers with Noel and ate them for breakfast the morning after.
The bistek also came close to greatness. We asked for more of its excellent chimichurri, but I still wanted a stronger hit of heat. More than once, I wished the chef would trust the bold flavors already on the plate and push them just a little further. The bistek came with sweet potato fries, which presented a separate problem: I hate sweet potato fries. These had a crisp exterior, a pillowy middle, and enough salt to make me keep reaching for them. I actually appreciate being proved wrong so deliciously.
The drinks had as much personality as the food. Noel’s Yellowcard came with tiny, ridiculously cute dinosaurs. When she insisted I should have one too, Kultura made mine without alcohol, and it tasted the same as hers. Her Get Lucky was less bright than the Yellowcard but more complex and interesting. Then came Noel’s Bebotini with a piece of nori clipped to the glass. She loved the charred pineapple brine in that one and said the whole unconventional combination worked beautifully.
It would have been easy for dinosaurs and a nori clip to feel gimmicky. Here, they felt charming because the drinks behind the decorations were genuinely good. That playful confidence carries through the restaurant. Chef Nikko Cagalanan is adorable, and his social media game for Kultura and its sister restaurant, Bareo, is almost as fun as the drinks and food he serves. I already like Bareo, so perhaps I should have known I would be susceptible to the charm of this place.
By dessert, Sidrah had every reason to call me exuberant. The halo-halo arrived with shaved ice, corn, beans, jackfruit, banana, flan, and enough textures to keep every spoonful different. It was sweet, sweet, sweet, but balanced. The little pot of ube milk poured over the top was the best closing argument for why this place is so damn popular.
The bench seat was comfortable for me, although Noel’s chair was hard and seemed built for someone smaller. Parking is my real obstacle. There is only street parking and there isn't much of that. There are no garages or paid lots nearby. If I could reliably park close by, I would be at Kultura often. If you have mobility issues, the parking situation is going to be an issue. Ride share if you can.
Bottom line is that like apparently everyone else in Charleston, I love this place. The kitchen gave me dishes I wanted to talk about between bites, Sidrah made us feel welcome, and I left with a new description for what happens when I’m having a very good dinner. I am exuberant. Kultura is a good as its reputation suggests. Case closed.
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