12 Hole-In-The-Wall Places In North Carolina That Became Family Traditions
North Carolina hides some of the most beloved dining spots you’ll ever find, tucked away in unassuming buildings that don’t look like much from the outside.
These hole-in-the-wall restaurants have served generations of families, creating memories that span decades.
I remember my grandpa taking me to one of these places when I was seven, and now I take my own kids there every summer.
1. Skylight Inn BBQ
Picture a building that looks like someone plopped a giant dome on top of a shack and called it a restaurant. That’s exactly what you’ll find in Ayden, and honestly, it’s perfection. My uncle swears the whole-hog barbecue here cured his bad mood after his favorite football team lost three games straight.
The Jones family has been smoking pigs over wood coals since 1947, refusing to mess with what works. You won’t find fancy sauces or complicated sides here. Just pork, coleslaw, and cornbread that’ll make you question every other meal you’ve ever eaten.
Every family reunion, we drive two hours just to grab those styrofoam trays. The meat falls apart before your fork even touches it, seasoned with nothing but smoke and time.
2. B’s Barbecue
Blink while driving through Greenville and you’ll miss this microscopic shack that serves up legendary barbecue. There’s no sign bragging about awards, no fancy logo, just a line of people who know what’s up. I once watched a businessman in a three-piece suit stand in the dirt parking lot, eating with his hands like a caveman who’d discovered fire.
They open at 11 and close when the meat runs out, which usually happens by early afternoon. The chopped pork comes with a vinegar-based sauce that’ll wake up your taste buds and possibly your ancestors.
My mom tells stories about stopping here after high school football games in the seventies. Now my teenage daughter begs to go whenever we’re within fifty miles.
3. Snappy Lunch
Mount Airy’s claim to fame isn’t just being Andy Griffith’s hometown—it’s also home to the legendary pork chop sandwich that defies physics. Seriously, how do they get a breaded pork chop that big onto a bun without architectural support? I tried to replicate it at home once and ended up with a kitchen disaster that my dog wouldn’t even touch.
Charles Dowell started slinging these massive sandwiches in 1923, and the recipe hasn’t changed since. The meat hangs over the bun edges like it’s trying to escape, but you won’t let it.
Families squeeze into the tiny booths, elbows bumping, sharing stories between bites. The waitresses remember your order from last year, which is both impressive and slightly terrifying.
4. El’s Drive-In
Morehead City’s El’s Drive-In has been serving shrimp burgers since 1959, which sounds weird until you taste one and realize you’ve been living your life all wrong. My dad proposed to my mom in the parking lot here, which she says was romantic until a seagull stole her fries. They’ve been married thirty-eight years, so apparently the shrimp burger makes up for the stolen fries.
The building looks like it time-traveled from the Eisenhower era and decided to stay. You can still get carhop service if you’re feeling nostalgic or just lazy.
Every summer vacation down the coast includes a mandatory stop here. The shrimp are fried to golden perfection, piled high on a soft bun with just enough sauce to make things interesting.
5. Sutton’s Drug Store
Who needs fancy brunch spots when you can get a grilled pimento cheese sandwich at an actual working pharmacy? Sutton’s has been confusing tourists and delighting locals since 1923 in Chapel Hill. I brought a friend from New York here once, and she couldn’t comprehend buying allergy medicine and a milkshake in the same transaction.
The soda fountain counter looks like it belongs in a museum, but it’s very much operational. Old guys sit on spinning stools, reading newspapers and solving the world’s problems between sips of Cheerwine floats.
My grandmother worked here as a teenager, serving sodas to college students. She met my grandfather when he came in pretending to need aspirin but really just wanted to talk to her.
6. Merritt’s Grill
Chapel Hill’s Merritt’s Grill serves breakfast and lunch that’ll ruin you for chain restaurants forever. The BLT here contains about seventeen pounds of bacon, give or take, and I’m not complaining. My brother once tried to eat two of them on a bet and had to take a nap in his car afterward.
They’ve been flipping burgers and cracking eggs since 1929, operating out of a building that looks like a strong wind might relocate it. But that structure has weathered hurricanes, so it’s tougher than it appears.
Families cram into the limited seating, creating a cozy chaos that somehow works. The grill cooks everything right in front of you, so there’s no mystery about what you’re getting—just honest food made by people who’ve been doing it longer than you’ve been alive.
7. Brooks’ Sandwich House
Charlotte’s Brooks’ Sandwich House has been piling meat onto bread since 1973, perfecting the art of the sandwich in ways that make Subway weep. The chili here deserves its own fan club, thick and meaty with just enough spice to make things interesting. I accidentally wore some on my shirt once, and my coworker asked if I’d gotten into a fight with a bowl of ground beef.
The atmosphere screams neighborhood joint where everybody knows your name, or at least your usual order. Regulars occupy the same seats they’ve claimed for decades, defending their territory like friendly bears.
Every time my aunt visits from Florida, this is her first stop before even going to the hotel. She says the red slaw is worth the plane ticket alone.
8. Mr. Barbecue
Despite the superhero-sounding name, Mr. Barbecue doesn’t wear a cape or fight crime—it just serves incredibly good smoked meat in an incredibly unremarkable building. You might drive past it three times before realizing you’ve arrived because it looks like someone’s garage that decided to become a restaurant. My GPS once insisted I’d reached my destination while I sat in an empty field, so trust your nose instead of technology.
The pulled pork here comes with a sauce that walks the line between vinegar tang and sweet molasses perfectly. Hush puppies arrive hot enough to burn your fingers but too delicious to wait for cooling.
My cousin had her wedding rehearsal dinner catered by this place, which sounds casual but was actually genius.
9. Lexington Barbecue
Also known as the Honey Monk, this Lexington institution has been smoking shoulders since 1962 with a dedication that borders on obsession. Wayne Monk turned this place into a barbecue temple where people worship at the altar of smoked pork and red slaw. I once saw a man cry while eating here, and I’m pretty sure it was joy, not sadness.
The vinegar-based sauce is tangy enough to make your eyes water in the best possible way. They cook over hickory wood, filling the air with smoke that you can smell from the highway.
Four generations of my family have eaten here, creating a barbecue legacy that we take very seriously. My nephew’s first solid food was a tiny bite of pulled pork from this place.
10. Red Bridges Barbecue Lodge
Shelby’s Red Bridges Barbecue Lodge has been wood-cooking pork since 1946, maintaining traditions that modern restaurants have forgotten. The building looks like a hunting lodge that decided to serve lunch instead of hosting card games. My father-in-law insists this place invented barbecue, which is historically inaccurate but emotionally true.
They still use the original pit-cooking method, where patience and smoke transform ordinary pork into something extraordinary. The hush puppies are legendary, crispy outside and soft inside, seasoned with just enough onion to make them memorable.
Every Thanksgiving, before we stuff ourselves with turkey, we stop here for what my family calls the pre-feast feast. It’s become such a tradition that my kids would probably riot if we skipped it.
11. Stamey’s Barbecue
Greensboro’s Stamey’s Barbecue has been serving Piedmont-style barbecue since 1930, making it older than most people’s grandparents. Warner Stamey basically wrote the rulebook for North Carolina barbecue, and his descendants still follow it religiously. I tried to get the recipe once and got laughed out of the building, which was fair.
The chopped pork comes dressed in a sauce that’s more vinegar than sweet, cutting through the richness of the meat perfectly. They serve it with slaw, hush puppies, and sweet tea that could probably fuel a car if you were desperate.
My wife and I had our first date here because I wanted to impress her with authentic barbecue. It worked, and now we celebrate our anniversary here every year, sitting in the same booth.
12. Watkins Grill
Watkins Grill operates with the kind of no-nonsense attitude that makes you sit up straight and order politely. The food is simple, honest, and exactly what you want when you’re hungry and tired of pretentious restaurants with ingredients you can’t pronounce. I brought a friend here who only eats at farm-to-table places, and even he admitted the burger was perfect.
The grill has been family-owned for decades, passing down recipes and techniques like precious heirlooms. Everything gets cooked on a flat-top griddle that’s probably seen more action than a war veteran.
My grandma used to stop here every Sunday after church, still wearing her good dress and hat. Now I do the same thing, minus the hat because I don’t own one and wouldn’t look good in it anyway.