This Alabama Catfish House Makes Platters You Can’t Finish Alone
Just beyond Choctaw County, where the Tombigbee River bends wide, Ezell’s Fish Camp waits with stories as thick as its hushpuppies. The building still hints at its past life as a two-room dog-trot trading post, but today the walls hum with conversation and the smell of fryer oil seasoned by decades.
Platters here don’t arrive modestly, they sprawl, stacked with golden catfish, crisp slaw that carries a bite, and cornbread fritters whispered about like family secrets. I spent an afternoon watching the river slide by, fork catching every detail of the plate.
It isn’t just food; it’s continuity, memory, and a reminder that some meals anchor themselves in place. Come hungry, stay curious, and the river does the rest.
Historic Cabin Setting
Logs darkened with age frame the walls, the whole place echoing with the creak of a dog-trot cabin that predates the interstate. Sitting inside feels like stepping into a living photograph.
What once sheltered traders now shelters diners, with catfish platters carrying forward a different kind of exchange. The air is heavy with fryer oil and the chatter of long tables.
I found myself staring at the beams while waiting for lunch, thinking about how many hands and meals this old room had seen.
Deep Roots In Fish Fries
Before there was a menu, there were gatherings. In the 1930s the Ezell family hosted riverside fish fries that became legendary along the Tombigbee.
By the 1950s, demand made a permanent restaurant inevitable, and the old trading post turned into a kitchen that hasn’t stopped since.
Knowing that lineage changes the flavor a little. Eating here isn’t just a meal, it’s tasting a tradition that’s been fried, served, and repeated for nearly a century.
Destination On The Water
The river is a constant presence, even if you’re focused on your plate. Just north of the Highway 10 bridge, the west bank of the Tombigbee holds the camp like a pocket.
Finding it feels like heading to a friend’s house instead of a restaurant. The drive ends with gravel, trees, and the scent of catfish in the air.
The location itself flavors the night. Eating near water makes every bite taste rooted, as if the river still carries the stories that started here.
Generous Platters
Catfish is the centerpiece, filets fried golden or whole fish split and sizzling when they hit your table. Portions are never shy, arriving in numbers that challenge even big appetites.
Plates brim with hushpuppies, beans, and fries, but the fish always commands the spotlight. Crisp edges, tender middles, seasoned in a way that feels practiced, not showy.
I couldn’t finish mine, and no one seemed to expect me to. Ezell’s almost dares you to try, knowing full well the platter will win.
House Hushpuppies And Slaw
The hushpuppies land crunchy on the outside, warm and soft inside, a basket that empties fast no matter how many arrive.
Slaw here stays simple, shredded fine, creamy enough to balance fried catfish but not drown it. Regulars talk about it the way others talk about main courses.
The pairing works because it’s unpretentious. These sides don’t try to steal the spotlight; they just set the stage for fish that sings.
Family Tradition, Still
The Ezells didn’t hand their camp to strangers. Decades later, the family still runs it with the same recipes that first drew neighbors off the riverbanks.
It shows in the continuity: nothing feels updated for the sake of it, only preserved because the formula works.
I liked that sense of constancy. Eating here made me feel like I was entering someone else’s family gathering, where the menu is decided and never argued.
Big-Group Friendly
Though it began as two rooms, the cabin has stretched and added space enough for families, reunions, and Sunday groups. Long tables accommodate birthday dinners as easily as fishing crews.
Staff know how to manage the flow, keeping platters coming to clusters of diners without missing a beat.
That scale makes Ezell’s feel like more than a restaurant. It’s a place built for community eating, where laughter fills spaces as reliably as the smell of frying oil.
Hours To Plan Around
Ezell’s doesn’t run on a seven-day week. You’ll find doors open Thursday through Sunday, closing early in the week.
That schedule feels like a nod to its roots, more gathering hall than constant diner. Thursdays start at 11, Sundays open late after church.
Planning ahead matters. I nearly missed my chance by showing up early in the week. The limited hours sharpen the experience, reminding you this isn’t fast food.
Easy Pin
The address reads 776 Ezell Road, Lavaca, Alabama, but GPS can feel unnecessary when you’re guided by reputation alone. Locals know the way by heart.
Call (205) 654-2205 and you’ll get the same directions, the kind spoken more like family advice than a corporate script.
Driving in, you sense the distance from chain restaurants. The turn onto Ezell Road feels like a shift into slower space, where catfish is destination enough.
From River To Plate
Ezell’s started as a stop for riverboats, serving travelers who drifted down the Tombigbee. The water brought people, and soon the kitchen became the bigger draw.
Now it’s less about movement and more about memory, though the river still frames the backdrop.
Eating fried catfish here is tasting how geography turns into culture, how a river stop became one of Alabama’s most storied dining rooms.
Simple, Southern Sides
Beans cooked soft, fries stacked in handfuls, and hushpuppies arriving in rounds that vanish too quickly. Everything stays humble.
The restraint works, the sides never distract from the fish. They’re background players, dependable and unpretentious.
It reminded me of Sunday suppers at home, where the goal wasn’t variety but comfort. Ezell’s sides feel like repetition done right.
First-Timer Move
The best introduction is simple: order the catfish platter, double up on hushpuppies, and don’t skip the slaw.
Claiming a porch seat when weather allows adds to the memory, watching daylight fade over the river as the first bites land.
That’s the combination I’d recommend to anyone walking through the doors for the first time. It’s not just a meal, it’s the handshake Ezell’s offers newcomers.