These Haunted Tennessee Dining Rooms Turn Dinner Into A Ghost Story, According To Locals
Tennessee has dining rooms where the past feels close enough to sit at your table. Some are tucked inside mountain lodges, others gleam beneath chandeliers in historic hotels, but all of them mix good food with a sense that someone else might be lingering nearby.
You might come for a skillet of catfish or a perfectly grilled steak and leave remembering the draft that swept through the stairwell or the stranger you thought you glimpsed in the corner. These places hold stories in their walls as firmly as they hold recipes in their kitchens.
The list ahead introduces eleven restaurants where dinner comes warm from the oven, and sometimes with company that isn’t listed on the menu.
1. The Greenbrier Restaurant (Gatlinburg)
The room feels like a mountain hideaway, dim wood and stone lending a hush that’s not entirely peaceful. You can hear boots on the stairs even when no one is there, which locals claim belongs to a long-departed bride.
Plates arrive with serious attention: aged steaks seared just right, trout dressed with bright citrus, and warm sourdough bread that carries the scent of hearth cooking. The mix of rustic and refined keeps you anchored.
I walked out satisfied but couldn’t shake the sense that something was keeping pace behind me.
2. Hagy’s Catfish Hotel (Shiloh)
The fried fillets land on your table first, hot and golden, with hushpuppies that nearly steal the show. This is catfish done the way river families have cooked for generations, crisp outside, moist and tender inside.
The land carries Civil War memory, just a stone’s throw from the Shiloh battlefield. For decades the Hagy family has run the kitchen, its story tied tightly to the Tennessee River.
If you want the full effect, ask for a seat by the big windows at sunset, when fog curls low across the water.
3. Thomas House Hotel Dining Room (Red Boiling Springs)
A cold draft runs through the hallway here, even on warm nights, and it pushes open doors just enough to make you stop mid-step. It’s unnerving before you even see the dining room itself.
Inside, the food is humble but comforting: cornbread, fried chicken, beans slow-cooked until soft. It’s exactly the kind of fare you’d expect from a century-old Tennessee hotel dining hall.
I’ve eaten here twice, and both times I felt the mix of warmth and unease—welcomed by the staff, unsettled by the silence when I returned to my seat.
4. Bridgeman’s Chophouse At The Read House (Chattanooga)
The chefs here take steakhouse standards and elevate them, from ribeye with a buttery crust to oysters that taste like they’ve just left the shore. Each plate feels polished without losing heart.
History clings to the Read House, room 311 is whispered about as the most haunted in the South, tied to Prohibition-era tragedy. That weight lingers even as the dining room buzzes with laughter.
If you’re curious, ask a server about the legends, but eat first: ghost stories go down better on a full stomach.
5. Skull’s Rainbow Room (Nashville)
Filet mignon skewers arrive tender and smoky, while the crab cakes balance spice and sweet in a way that feels effortless. The menu leans on prime cuts and seafood with an easy swagger.
This club opened in Printer’s Alley in 1948, a hangout for stars and songwriters. Rumors claim you can still hear phantom voices carrying tunes after closing.
Book a table late in the evening, when the lights dim and the stage is set, and you might catch both a great set and a stray chill.
6. The Old Mill Restaurant (Pigeon Forge)
Something about the sound of the water wheel outside makes your skin prickle, it’s steady, yet strangely mournful. Inside, the timbered dining room feels part museum, part Southern kitchen.
Dishes follow tradition: stone-ground grits, fluffy biscuits, and fried chicken coated in a peppery batter. Cornmeal milled on-site flavors many plates, tying the food to the landscape itself.
I love this place because every bite tastes like history you can touch, though I admit the creaking beams above me sometimes feel like another guest leaning in.
7. STIR At Chattanooga Choo Choo (Chattanooga)
Bartenders here focus on ice, oddly enough, hand-cut cubes clink slowly, chilling cocktails with a precision that feels theatrical. Even non-drinkers can’t miss the sound.
The vibe is buzzy, with exposed brick and a train-station backdrop giving the space its industrial polish. The patio hums with conversation as dishes arrive from the raw bar.
Seafood is the star: oysters briny and bright, ceviche that snaps with lime. Each bite feels alive, the history of travel lingering in the clatter of plates.
8. Stationairy At Union Station Nashville Yards (Nashville)
The filet of salmon here is finished with crisp skin and a faint herbal lift, while roasted carrots land with just the right sweetness. The kitchen keeps things thoughtful without overworking the plate.
Union Station’s bones stretch back to 1900, once a bustling railroad terminal. Rumors of spectral travelers pacing the halls add a certain tension to dinner.
For a quiet evening, ask for a table closer to the windows. It’s where the room feels calmest, as if the ghosts give you space to eat.
9. Drusie & Darr At The Hermitage Hotel (Nashville)
Season brings autumn squashes roasted to velvety sweetness, paired with nutty grains and a drizzle of brown butter. The plates lean into what’s freshest and speak in a modern Southern accent.
The Hermitage has seen over a century of history, with politics and legends layered in its walls. Some visitors swear the marble corridors echo with voices long gone.
I like eating here because it feels both glamorous and uneasy, the chandeliers sparkle, but in the corner of your eye, you half-expect someone from another time to join.
10. Earnestine & Hazel’s (Memphis)
Walking upstairs, the jukebox spills out soul tunes, and the scuffed floors creak as though remembering decades of late nights. The vibe is equal parts dive bar and living history.
Food is simple: the “Soul Burger” stacked with grilled onions, mustard, and pickles, a greasy marvel that’s become a local legend.
Patrons talk of ghosts drifting through the old brothel rooms above. Downstairs, a burger in hand, you feel that mix of music, grease, and memory collide.
11. Brumley’s Restaurant At The General Morgan Inn (Greeneville)
The crab cakes are delicately seared, paired with lemon butter sauce that strikes balance between richness and brightness. Entrees here lean toward American fine dining with a Southern accent.
This hotel dates to 1884 and carries a history of dignitaries and travelers. Guests whisper about footsteps in the halls, shadows moving just out of view.
For dinner, reservations help, especially on weekends. Sitting close to the windows lets you enjoy Greeneville’s old-town glow while you weigh whether history or imagination is closer at hand.
12. STIR Station Street Patio (Chattanooga)
Autumn evenings are crisp here, the patio warmed by soft lights and chatter that floats above the train tracks nearby. That shift in season makes the air sharp and strangely alert.
Station Street has a long, raucous past tied to travelers and late-night escapades. Some say echoes of those nights linger, tucked into corners of the old district.
I like this patio because the oysters and tuna tartare taste fresh and bright, but it’s the unsettled air at dusk that keeps me leaning back, listening.