By Johanna Wilson Jones

When Kenny Adams walks into a room, you won’t miss him. He is a big man with a booming jovial voice and confidence that quickly fills empty spaces.

The homegrown chef holds the helm at Wild Wing Plantation in Conway where he imprints his personality in a straight-forward menu with finger food and American favorites.

The golf resort, at 100 Wild Wing Blvd., doesn’t have the variety offered by mainstream menus, but the food Adams serves is solid and satisfying.

Although he just recently landed at Wild Wing, he has brought his culinary character to this place by ensuring quality ingredients are used on his straightforward menu.

“I have been on a steady roll, just making sure that I come with good, fresh quality food, good ingredients something they can be proud of in their neighborhood,’’ he said.

At this moment, he is in the kitchen at Wild Wing building a triple-double sandwich. The mouth-widening sandwiched is stacked with ham, turkey, bacon strips, cheese, lettuce, and TLC.

As he slices through it, he talks not about food but about how his daughter is finally getting her braces taken off after two years. She is elated, he said, as is he.

“She has been getting on my nerves about that thing,’’ said Adams, a married dad of three daughters before he flagged the sandwich with two fancy toothpicks before slicing it into halves. “She says I can’t eat this, and I can’t have this, and I can’t do that. I say I know I paid $11,000 for those braces. So, I sincerely hope you don’t do me like that.”

Then, he switches back, talking about food.

As he prepared a burger made with guacamole and tomatoes, he added that he also wanted people not affiliated with Wild Wing to know they were welcome to come eat his food.

“I want the entire Myrtle Beach, Conway, and wherever you may come from to know you came come to Wild Wing,’’ Adams said. “You can get your 18 holes and a good quality meal.”

Wild Wing dining is open to the public, although Adams said many folks are unaware because they believe the golf resort is private and off-limits.

“Anyone can come,’’ he said. “Bring your grandkids, your aunties. If you want to come out here and have a good little meal – you’re welcome to it.”

With that, he starts making a Cuban sandwich, a new edition of the menu he created.

“They had a menu here when I started, but I wasn’t in love with it,’’ said Adams, who had been the executive chef at Wild Wing for less than a year and a chef for nearly 20 years. “And being that I had cart blanche, I took it become myself to change the menu.”

Grandma's Gifts

Adams is a proud Myrtle Beach native with roots to boot in country corners in Georgetown County. His folks were and still are assassins on grills and stovetops. Of course, this confident culinary king thinks he is among the crème de le crème of cooks in his family – more on that later.

In the next wrinkle of time, he has since taken a break from the kitchen and is sitting in a renovated, massive dining hall at Wild Wing facing the glorious, resplendent green courses.  He is in all black from head to toe and ready to chat it up about his journey and endeavors.

Unsurprisingly, his grandmother was a gargantuan influence on who he is now as a chef. Who doesn’t know of or have a grandmother who not only knows her way around the kitchen but also commands the respect of the most celebrated chefs?

Reba McCullum, his late paternal grandmother, lived in Myrtle Beach. Although his dad, Terry McCullum, took him on numerous fishing trips and is a first-rate cook, it was his grandmother who was his primary culinary influence.

“When I visited with her, I knew we were going to eat fresh food from her garden,’’ Adams said. “She had apples growing. She would make us candied apples, fresh pecan pies, and candied yams. Yeah, my grandmother was the truth.’’

However, he was “thoughtless” at the time and didn’t realize how much heart and soul she put into preparing meals for him, his two siblings, and his cousins.

Her home often smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon. He remembers the warmth that came from the wooden stove that she used to prepare the food.

“Everything you can think of my grandmother did straight from scratch, not going to the store, but getting it out of her garden and feeding it to us,’’ Adams said. “She was truly farm to table.”

McCullum enjoyed showing out for her grandchildren in the kitchen.

“She was from that era where they ate from the earth,’’ he said. “Now when I sit here and think about it, that was a strong woman to grow what you eat from the earth and put it on the table for your loved ones. That takes a kind of fortitude that most people don’t possess today.”

Fumbling Into Food

Just like we still don’t know how many licks it takes to get the center of a Tootsie Roll lollipop; we will never know if Adams could have been a NFL star – or at least a gridiron giant in collegiate football.

He was being eyed by South Carolina State University, Coastal Carolina University, and the University of South Carolina when an assault rifle changed his life.

Someone shot him.

It happened at a Myrtle Beach nightclub and involved a conflict he knew nothing about.

His right femur was injured.

Hopes of playing football vanished.

It took two years before Adams fully healed.

His girlfriend at the time became his caregiver, and she would cook for him.

Adams appreciated her attending to his needs and enjoyed the food she served him, but he wanted to do all those things for himself.

Then, boom. Adams enrolled in the culinary program at Horry Georgetown Technical College.

“I said, 'If I can’t make it by slinging a ball or catching a ball, I will make it by slinging a spatula,''' said Adams, a former defensive end and offensive left tackle who graduated from Carvers Bay High School in Georgetown County. “The rest of it is history.”

Touchdown Tastes

Once he got passionate about cooking, he never thought about football again.

Cooking kicked football's tail and made a touchdown in Adams’s heart.

“All of my energy and effort went into being the best chef I could be,’’ he said.

His mother, Anita Carr, wasn't shocked — she was grateful.

“I think he is a better chef than he was a football player,’’ Carr said. “When he played football, I didn’t think his coaches cared about his academics. I didn’t like that. I told them his learning came first.”

She said their family has traditions rooted in food and fellowship, where members are known for preparing and showcasing specialty dishes and meals.

“We love to do family gatherings and cookouts,’’ Carr said. “My thing is potato salad and stuffing. Kenny is great on the grill – his steak, fish, and chicken. Kenny comes from a family where there are lots of great cooks on my side and his dad’s side.”

Adams admits that he was cocky when he first started culinary school because of his family’s food expertise and heritage.

“Coming through the door, you couldn’t tell me I wasn’t Wolfgang Puck,’’ Adams said. “I was like, ‘I’m here in dog. I’ve got some recipes I’ve been working on with my grandma. I’m about to knock your socks off.’’’

However, like a whirlwind, the truth blew into his ego quickly. Adams was among about 40 gifted cooks.

He had put down his bravado and honed his skills, and he graduated culinary school in 2006 as a formidable chef.

Adams worked as a chef at popular Myrtle Beach eateries, including Landry’s Seafood House, the now defunct Key West Grill, Sea Captain’s House, and Waterscapes at the Marina Inn before landing at Wild Wing.

Those career moves have helped him cultivate a variety of cuisine styles on the job. Adams can create Southern, Pan-Asian, and French dishes.

His fish dishes are moist and flaky. He makes a steak tartare that leaves mouths craving more. His taco salad is fun and tasty.

Unlike a basic taco salad, Adams prefers using a light, airy fried tortilla bowl that crunches like Lay’s potato chips. Creamy homemade guacamole, savory ground beef, crispy shredded lettuce, sour cream, and cilantro-fresh salsa give his taco salad an edgy personality.

He is indeed a kitchen baller.

Adams gets the touchdown and field goal with each dish.