One of the greatest gifts of Upstate South Carolina is a hole-in-the-wall hot dog restaurant called Skins. I don’t even like hot dogs that much, but I LOVE a good Skins dog. There are all kinds of local legends about what makes them so good, the most common being that they are boiled in beer. Who knows?
This is the original Skins. It’s tucked away in a former mill hill community. The neighborhood has gone downhill, but business is still booming here. Oh the memories! We had a small contingency of Skins runners back in high school – a few of the guys in band who would take orders and make a lunch run. If my memory serves me, they were mainly from the trombone and percussion sections. They never got caught, probably because the teachers turned a blind eye in exchange for a couple of dogs. (Never mind that the two times I dared cut lunch in high school I got caught. The first time I was turned in be the band director. Really Bass?! The second time I was caught by the entire ministerial staff from my church. They never told my parents, but they enjoyed holding it over me as a threat to keep me in line.)
There are several Skins scattered around Anderson and Greenville now. I learned today that one is opening in Greenwood soon. Every time I go I try to convince them that their future lies in Charleston! It hasn’t worked yet, but I’m not giving up. Cosmic Dogs wouldn’t stand a chance against Skins!
In every Skins restaurant you’ll find this posted. It was Skin Thrasher’s motto. Not a bad one, I might add.