Next came the soup and salad
course, and our table was laid with a
watermelon wedge salad and a roast-
ed pepper and squash bisque. Shortly
after those were dispatched of, the
entrees arrived.
I went for the pan-roasted chick-
en, while Kelsey opted for the Stone
Cross Farm pork chop. Both were ex-
cellently prepared and neither of us
could come close to finishing them.
However, through the magic that
is a love of sweets, we found a way
to make room for dessert. Bourbon
chocolate pecan pie (think Derby Pie,
if it wasn't a trademarked name) and
an apple tart were washed down with
a South African red wine.
Full and content, we lingered on the
porch far longer than would be polite
at most establishments but were en-
couraged to do so by both our sur-
roundings and the kind staff. The
wine disappeared as we chatted the
night away, and the fireflies provided
happy blips of light beyond the scope
of the bistro lights that hung above us.
Perhaps that is the enduring charm
of Holly Hill Inn. Although it is a fine
dining experience, the ever-changing
menu and delightful setting make
it feel like an intimate dinner at a
friend's house. A friend who happens
to be amazing in the kitchen.
