In the post-Revolutionary War years, Charleston became prosperous thanks in no small part to its plantations, with cotton and rice being the major cash crops and exports. Some of these plantations have been preserved, and we visited two of them today: Middleton Place and Drayton Hall.

Before the plantations, however, we hit up another famous Charleston establishment — the Hominy Grill — for breakfast. Situated in a quiet neighborhood of cute, historic homes, this tiny restaurant has been touted as one of the best places for breakfast in Charleston, and it did not disappoint. Courtney’s blueberry cornmeal pancakes were excellent, as the cornmeal gave the pancakes a crumbly texture that’s a delightful departure from the norm. I got the shrimp and grits, which cost twice as much as anything else on the menu. It was well worth it, however, as this was by far the most amazing shrimp and grits I’ve ever had. The grits were infused with a powerful garlicky and peppery flavor, much stronger than what one would usually associate with grits. The shrimps were cooked just right, allowing you to taste the freshness in every tender bite. The service was also very speedy, as we were in and out in about 30 minutes.

With our palate thoroughly satisfied, we headed to Middleton Place, home to four generations of Middletons, who played important roles in the course of American history, including the man who presided over the First Continental Congress, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, a governor of South Carolina, and a signer of the Ordinance of Secession. That last act came back to haunt the Middletons as Union soldiers looted and burned the plantation for it near the end of the Civil War. Nonetheless, the house and the surrounding, expansive grounds survived and offered an amazingly serene sight. A 30-minute walk would take you through lush gardens, meandering woods, scenic streams and ponds, and well-preserved stables and workshops.

The plantation charged separate fees for various parts. We decided to tour the grounds and forgo the house itself, which looked pretty enough from the outside. As soon as we entered the grounds, we were greeted by a long reflection pond, on which floated a single white swan and its perfect reflection. As we made our way through the gardens, innumerable dragon flies of myriad colors — red, blue, green, gray, black — hovered around us. The woods were thick enough to block out much of the blazing midday sun, making our trek a little less demanding.

After weaving our way around the grounds, we came upon preserved shacks where old plantation tools were on display. At one barn, a volunteer explained how people on the plantation made the things they needed, everything from candles to coffee. One door down, a cooper — a woodsmith who makes casks and barrels — demonstrated the labor it took to make the hoops around barrels, not out of metal but from saplings. He finds the appropriate trees from the plantation grounds, then slowly trim them down to so thin that they can be bent into a hoop without snapping. One hoop, he said, usually takes eight hours. Finally, at the next barn, we saw a potter at work. She showed us some of the pots that workers on the plantation would make, including a very cool “thumb pot” that basically acted like a primitive sprinkler.

All the work demonstrated, it should be noted, were done by slaves. We got a glimpse of that dark side of plantation life when we popped into a small shed on the final stop of our tour. The names of all the slaves owned by the Middletons were printed on an exhibit that filled up a wall panel. Next to each slave’s name was the price for which that person was bought. It’s a solemn reminder that the beauty that surrounded us was built by the exploitation and abuse of an entire race.

By now sweating like pigs and feeling somewhat fatigued, we nonetheless pressed on. A five-minute drive back in the direction of Charleston put us at Drayton Hall, a mansion completed in 1742 that remained in use by the descendants of its builder into the 1960s. While Drayton Hall lacked the grandeur of Middleton Place, the house more resembled an English countryside manor than a Southern plantation. It was constructed by lumber baron John Drayton, and through seven generations, the Draytons  consciously decided against modernizing the house, so it never had electricity or modern toilet facilities (instead, there is a privy with two seats and a fireplace next to the house). When the National Trust for Historic Preservation purchased the property in the 1970s, it opted for preservation rather than restoration, meaning the house would remain as it was when the trust took it over rather than be made into what it would’ve looked like in the 18th century.

While we waited for the guided tour of the house to start, we took a stroll around the grounds. Standing in stark contrast of Middle Place, the grounds around Drayton Hall had relatively little woods. Instead, almost the entire property is covered by grass. As our tour guide would later explain, there were more extensive gardens on the property when it was in use back in the 18th century, but the trust has decided against trying to restore those, as it cannot find out for certain what the gardens looked like. So instead, we saw mostly lawn, with a path leading down to the Ashley River, which ran behind the property and where we saw a couple families out on boating excursions. The land on the opposite side of the river, the guide told us, is also owned by the trust, which managed to scoop it up to prevent a developer from building condominiums there.

The inside of the house was devoid of all furniture and decorations. The blue paint, amazingly, was preserved from the 18th century and required a monumental effort that involved re-attaching pieces of chipped and peeling paint back on to the walls. When we proceeded to the second floor, we could only stand on one side of the house, as the flooring on the other side has not yet been reinforced so that it would not threaten the structural integrity of the first-floor ceiling for people to stand on it.

Our tour concluded in the basement, where the guide gave us an account of the daily lives of the plantation mistress that shattered any illusions of Scarlett O’Hara. Girls began learning wifery chores at a  young age. They married early, usually in their mid- to late teens, at which point they left their home, possibly never to return again. In their new homes on other plantations, they were expected to be in charge of the household, making sure there was enough food, handling a lot of the sewing, overseeing the butchering of animals, and personally handling some of the important food-preparation tasks, such as pickling and scraping the intestines of butchered animals to make sausage. And that’s in addition to likely being pregnant every 18 months or so, likely losing a couple of her infants, and the very real possibility of dying in childbirth.

When we finished our plantation tour, the combination of heat and humidity had us feeling as exhausted as those plantation mistresses of old. The recirculated cold air in the car and in our hotel room was a welcomed respite as we rested in preparation for dinner. As beautiful as the plantations were, I couldn’t imagine living, and working, there during the scorching, air condition-less Charleston summers of yore.