15 Delaware Seafood Shacks Locals Tried To Keep Quiet About
Growing up along Delaware’s coastline, I discovered hidden seafood treasures that most tourists never come across. These local seafood shacks serve up the freshest catches from the Atlantic and Delaware Bay, prepared with time-honored recipes passed down through generations.
From humble, hole-in-the-wall crab houses to weathered waterfront gems, these 15 spots might not win any awards for fancy décor, but they deliver seafood experiences that will make your taste buds dance.
Whether it’s a perfectly seasoned crab cake or a buttery lobster roll, each place offers a taste of the true heart of Delaware’s coastal food culture.
1. Crab Shack Pete’s
Stumbling upon Pete’s weathered shack last summer changed my seafood standards forever. Tucked behind a row of fishing boats in Lewes, this unassuming spot serves blue crabs so fresh they were swimming that morning.
The newspaper-covered tables and plastic bibs might seem casual, but Pete’s old-school steaming technique creates a flavor that fancy restaurants can’t replicate. Locals order the jumbo males by the dozen, armed with wooden mallets and cold beers.
Pete himself often wanders between tables, sharing tales from his 40 years on Delaware waters. His secret spice blend remains a mystery that’s sparked friendly debates among regulars for decades.
2. Lighthouse Lobster Roll
Grandma first brought me to this converted lighthouse keeper’s cottage when I was just knee-high to a crab pot. The owner, Captain Sally, greets everyone with a weather-worn smile and remembers regular customers’ orders years later.
Her lobster rolls burst with sweet meat barely touched by mayo, letting the ocean flavor shine through. The toasted split-top buns come from a local bakery that makes them exclusively for this spot.
What makes this place magical isn’t just the food—it’s watching the sunset over the bay from their wooden deck while seagulls perform aerial acrobatics overhead. Cash only and worth every penny!
3. Rusty Anchor Oyster Bar
Blink and you’ll miss the unmarked entrance to this Rehoboth Beach institution. Following a tip from my fishing buddy, I ventured down an alley between two touristy shops to find a literal hole in the wall serving the briniest, most perfect oysters in the state.
The chalkboard menu changes daily based on what local watermen bring to the back door. Sometimes they’re sold out by 2pm, which explains why locals line up before opening.
My favorite part? Watching old-timer Jimmy shuck lightning-fast behind the eight-seat bar, telling tall tales about the ‘big one’ that got away. Their mignonette sauce recipe remains under lock and key.
4. Bay Breeze Crab Cakes
My uncle swore me to secrecy before revealing this Bethany Beach treasure. From the outside, it looks like somebody’s grandma’s house—because it is! Mrs. Wilson started serving her famous crab cakes from her kitchen window in 1972.
Today, her granddaughters run the operation, still using her recipe with hand-picked local blue crab meat and minimal filler. The cakes arrive golden-brown, accompanied by tangy homemade tartar sauce and vinegar slaw.
Seating consists of four picnic tables in the backyard garden, surrounded by cheerful zinnias and black-eyed Susans. They close for two weeks each August when the family goes crabbing together up the coast.
5. Captain’s Catch Fish Fry
Squeezed between a bait shop and marine supply store, this Slaughter Beach gem nearly knocked me off my feet with the aroma of perfectly fried fish. The Captain—a former commercial fisherman with forearms like Popeye—batters and fries whatever came off the boats that morning.
Paper plates arrive heaped with crispy flounder, croaker, or spot, depending on the season. The cornmeal coating has just enough cayenne to make your lips tingle pleasantly.
Folks drive from three counties away for their hand-cut boardwalk fries sprinkled with Old Bay and malt vinegar. Pro tip: Thursday is all-you-can-eat night, but come early—the line stretches down the dock by 4:30.
6. Salty Dog Clam Shack
Last Fourth of July, my cousin introduced me to this converted shipping container on the outskirts of Fenwick Island. The owner’s actual salty dog—a one-eyed retriever named Captain—lounges on the deck, accepting gentle pets and dropped french fries with equal enthusiasm.
Their steamers arrive by the bucket, swimming in garlic butter with chunks of smoky bacon. I’ve never tasted clams so tender they practically melt on your tongue.
The plastic chairs and wobbly tables don’t exactly scream fine dining, but the sunset view over the marsh makes up for it. They don’t take reservations or credit cards, and they close whenever they run out of seafood—sometimes as early as 6pm.
7. Pirate’s Cove Seafood Boil
Pulling up to this ramshackle building in Bowers Beach feels like discovering buried treasure. The owner—a former Navy cook who goes by ‘Captain Jack’—creates seafood boils in massive cauldrons right on the beach.
Newspaper-lined tables quickly fill with steaming piles of shrimp, crab, clams, corn, and potatoes, all drenched in butter and his secret spice blend. No plates needed—just dig in with your hands and prepare to get messy!
Between bites, I love watching the fishing boats come in with their daily catches. The Captain’s parrot, Peggy, supervises from her perch near the register, occasionally squawking ‘More butter!’ to everyone’s delight. Weekend nights feature live bluegrass bands.
8. Dockside Dave’s Shrimp Baskets
Finding Dave’s required three wrong turns and a leap of faith down a gravel road in Little Creek. This floating shack—literally built on a pontoon—serves the sweetest Delaware Bay shrimp I’ve ever tasted.
Dave catches everything himself on his small trawler, bringing his haul straight to the kitchen each afternoon. The jumbo shrimp arrive perfectly fried, grilled, or blackened in paper baskets with homemade cocktail sauce that packs a horseradish punch.
During summer evenings, locals bring lawn chairs and portable radios, creating impromptu parties on the dock. The tiny kitchen closes during winter months when Dave heads south to Florida—a migration pattern as reliable as the birds overhead.
9. Salt Marsh Oyster Farm
Wading through tall marsh grass led me to this hidden gem near Woodland Beach. The owners—a marine biologist couple—farm their own oysters in the pristine waters where the creek meets Delaware Bay.
Their outdoor setup consists of nothing more than a shucking station, a few barrels as tables, and strings of solar lights. The oysters arrive on ice-filled trays with nothing but lemon wedges and homemade mignonette—no hot sauce allowed to mask their perfect briny flavor.
Between May and September, they host full moon oyster roasts where they grill the shellfish over oak wood. Bringing your own chair, drinks, and bug spray is essential. Reservations must be made through their impossible-to-find Instagram account.
10. Fisherman’s Wharf Chowder Bowl
Sandwiched between two fancy marina restaurants in Dewey Beach sits this unassuming wooden shack that looks like it might collapse in a strong breeze. I discovered it during a rainstorm while seeking shelter, and ended up finding chowder heaven!
The owner—a fourth-generation fisherman with salt-and-pepper beard—serves just three items: white clam chowder, red crab chowder, and whatever fish sandwich is fresh that day. The chowders come in hollowed-out sourdough bread bowls from the Portuguese bakery down the street.
Seagulls perch hopefully on nearby pilings, and the dining room consists of three weathered picnic tables. When nor’easters hit, locals phone in orders for gallon containers to stock their freezers.
11. Blue Point Crab House
My first date with my wife happened at this Port Mahon crab house, where the tables are covered in newspaper and everyone wears plastic bibs. Twenty years later, nothing has changed—including the family recipe for steamed crabs dusted with magical spice mix.
The rambling structure sits on stilts over the water, with walls decorated with faded fishing photos and buoys. When the tide rolls in, you can hear it lapping directly beneath the floorboards.
Every Tuesday, locals know to order the all-you-can-pick special with corn on the cob dripping with butter and Old Bay. The owner’s granddaughter now runs the register but still uses the ancient cash-only system her grandfather installed in 1964.
12. Tidewater Seafood Shack
Pulling off Route 9 near Little Heaven, I almost drove past this converted gas station. The pumps remain but now serve as quirky decor for what locals whisper is the best fish sandwich in Delaware.
The husband-and-wife team sources flounder, sea bass, and rockfish from Bowers Beach boats each morning. They bread each fillet in a cornmeal crust that stays impossibly crispy, then pile it onto fresh-baked rolls with homemade remoulade sauce.
My favorite touch: they serve everything in red plastic baskets lined with checkered paper. During peak summer season, the line often stretches to the road. Worth noting—they mysteriously close for two weeks each September, rumored to be when they vacation in Maine to eat lobster.
13. Bayside Boil & Fry
Discovering this Broadkill Beach treasure required following a hand-drawn map from my neighbor. Tucked behind a bait shop, this family operation serves seafood so fresh it practically jumps onto your plate.
The matriarch—a spry octogenarian everyone calls ‘Mama Jo’—still oversees the kitchen where three generations work side by side. Their specialties rotate with the tides: softshell crabs in spring, blackened bluefish in summer, and oyster fritters in fall.
The dining area consists of mismatched furniture on a screened porch overlooking the marsh. Hummingbirds visit the feeders hanging from the ceiling while you eat. They don’t advertise and don’t need to—weekends often see three generations of families returning for their seafood fix.
14. Inlet Clam Bake
Following smoke signals led me to this Indian River Inlet secret last summer. The owner—a former deep-sea fishing captain—digs a sand pit each morning, lines it with seaweed, and creates the most authentic New England-style clambake south of Maine.
Steamer clams, mussels, lobster tails, corn, and potatoes emerge from the covered pit perfectly cooked and infused with smoky flavor. The communal tables encourage conversation with strangers who quickly become friends over shared butter dishes.
The makeshift kitchen consists of a tent and some propane burners, while dining happens at driftwood tables right on the beach. They’re only open Friday through Sunday, May to October, and close up shop if rain threatens or when the day’s batch sells out.
15. Crabby Mary’s Sandwich Shop
Squished between a hardware store and laundromat in Milford sits this hole-in-the-wall with just six counter seats. Mary herself—a former crabbing boat cook with flaming red hair—creates crab cake sandwiches that have spoiled me for life.
Her secret? Using only the backfin meat and binding it with just enough mayo and crushed saltines to hold it together. Each golden-brown cake gets a light toasting before landing on a soft potato roll with lettuce and tomato.
The walls feature decades of customer photos, creating a community scrapbook of seafood lovers. Mary remembers everyone’s name and order, often having regulars’ food ready before they sit down. Cash only, and closed Mondays because ‘even the crabs need a day off.’