Pawleys Tap House & Grill

The Story

Erin Carachilo and George Eddis met working in restaurants in Philadelphia, fell for this stretch of coast, and bought the place. They've since added a catering operation and a second spot they're turning into an English-style pub. That history explains a menu where a flatbread loaded with Italian sausage and banana peppers sits a few lines away from a fried flounder platter. Two food cultures under one roof, and neither one is faking it.

The Vibe

Less than a mile from the ocean, and you can feel it before you sit down. White painted trusses, string lights, caged Edison bulbs, barrel high-tops, growlers lined up along the rail. Forty taps in a solid row along the wall, self-pour, and the house claims it's the only wall like it on the Grand Strand. Worth being clear on what this is: a taphouse, not a brewpub. Nothing behind that wall is brewed here. What's there is a deep list poured on your own schedule, which is a different kind of good. I landed on the Dirty Myrtle IPA and stayed there.

The Food

Better than average bar fare across the board, which sounds like faint praise until you eat enough bar fare to know how rare it is.

The Mac and Cheese Flight is the signature and the reason to come. Five-cheese base, three vessels on a board: chicken and bacon, chopped brisket, blackened shrimp. Be clear-eyed about the format, since it's one base with three toppings rather than three separate builds. It still works, because the toppings are doing real work. Chicken and bacon: good. Brisket on mac and cheese is a personal weakness of mine and it delivered. Then the blackened shrimp showed up and made it a fight. I'm not picking. They win different arguments.

The Pawleys Island Seafood Platter doesn't offer you a choice: fried only. A hearty hunk of flounder filet, tail-on shrimp, shoestring fries, and a row of little cups for cocktail sauce and tartar. It arrives the color of a good tan and doesn't apologize for anything.

The Crispy Flounder Sandwich is the same fish in a smaller frame, though the filet still runs off both ends of the bun by a long shot, draped in American cheese with lettuce, red onion, and pickle waiting underneath. Tangy tartar and fries. It's the kind of sandwich you have to plan your first bite around.

The Grouper Bites come out over arugula with a cup of house-made smokey remoulade, and it's a generous pile for the price. The breading is crunchy and carries its own flavor, and the grouper inside stays flaky and still tastes like grouper, which is the part most kitchens lose in the fryer. The remoulade is house-made and genuinely tasty with enough smoke that you'll keep going back to the cup after the bites are gone (perhaps even to dip French fries).

Then the Soprano lands on slate and changes the subject entirely. Mozzarella, Italian sausage, pepperoni, banana peppers, roasted red peppers, all of it under a rim that puffed and blistered the way you want it to. This is the Philadelphia half of the ownership talking, and I really enjoyed the accent.

The Bottom Line

Good food, good vibe, good beer, a mile off the ocean. On a road with no shortage of places built by people who've never seen it, this one was built by people who moved here on purpose. Skip the franchises and stop by.