I was here for a high school friend’s wedding. For my date, it was a crash introduction to the South: eating delicious, flavorful food in an old, grand mansion and dancing under ancient magnolia trees.

We actually passed this venue by the night before the wedding. You can see into the courtyard from King Street, but you’re barred from any party you’re not invited to by a wrought-iron gate and a grumpy old man who’d give Carson of Downton Abbey a run for his harumph.