15 Florida Beachside Seafood Shacks Worth The Drive And The View
Florida’s shoreline is dotted with seafood shacks that feel stitched into the landscape, weathered wood, hand-painted signs, salt in the air.
You step up to a window, balance a tray, and find a spot on a bench or dock where gulls hover and waves keep rhythm. I’ve followed shrimp baskets down back roads, lingered late over grouper sandwiches, and cracked crab legs while the tide shifted below.
These spots don’t need polish; their charm is honesty. What follows are fifteen seafood shacks where the flavor and the setting carry equal weight, and the meal feels like part of the journey.
1. Dewey Destin’s Seafood
You smell the gulf before you see Dewey Destin’s: salt, frying batter, a gentle marine haze that clings to your hair.
Founded by the Destin family, this spot anchors Destin’s dockside scene; you order at a window, sit on a dock, and look across the bay.
Lines grow midday. When I paused between shrimp baskets, I watched boats glide by. The food arrives fast; you eat slowly, lingering because the water’s just that calming.
2. The Back Porch
A cracked shell motif decorates the railing at The Back Porch, signaling its long history with Gulf seafood. Sunlight scatters across the open deck.
Since 1974, this Destin spot has emphasized fresh catch, especially amberjack sandwiches and chargrilled grouper. Diners point to its role in popularizing Gulf fish to a broader audience.
Locals suggest heading upstairs for the clearest view. I ordered their amberjack once, and with the surf below, I realized why generations still call it their porch.
3. The Crab Trap
A gull’s cry cuts through the air outside The Crab Trap, followed by the smell of steaming crab drifting across the boardwalk.
The shack focuses on blue crab, snow crab, and Gulf shrimp, served alongside hush puppies and coleslaw. Its raw bar attracts regulars who favor peel-and-eat simplicity.
Birds circle overhead, competing for scraps. I tossed a shell toward the tide and watched the frenzy build. That chaos mirrored the meal — messy, hands-on, ultimately satisfying.
4. Peg Leg Pete’s
A statue of a wooden pirate greets visitors at Peg Leg Pete’s, a playful nod to its Pensacola Beach roots. The vibe is lively, fueled by music and sea air.
Fish tacos, oysters on the half shell, and blackened mahi define the menu. Their upstairs oyster bar remains a local draw.
Weekends pack quickly. I arrived mid-afternoon, ordered tacos, and found the fish flaky and bright. The setting may be whimsical, but the seafood carried serious attention.
5. Shunk Gulley Oyster Bar
The clink of oyster shells against metal trays sets the rhythm at Shunk Gulley, located just steps from the beach in Santa Rosa.
Its foundation rests on oysters, served raw or chargrilled, alongside grouper sandwiches and coastal platters. The bar itself is named after a historic fishing reef offshore.
Regulars gravitate to the open-air seating. I followed their lead, watching sunset streaks across the horizon while savoring briny oysters that seemed lifted straight from nearby waters.
6. Pompano Joe’s Seafood House
Sea spray occasionally mists diners seated on the deck of Pompano Joe’s, a reminder of its direct line to the Gulf.
The restaurant, open since 1995 in Destin, became known for Caribbean-influenced takes on local seafood, with jerk-seasoned mahi and coconut shrimp on the menu.
Sunset turns the dining room golden. I tried their snapper in citrus marinade, and as the sky shifted to pink, the flavors seemed part of the same performance.
7. The Surf Hut
A row of surfboards lines the entrance to The Surf Hut, giving the space a casual, beach-club feel. The mood is loose, conversational.
Menu staples include fried shrimp baskets, fish sandwiches, and hush puppies, joined by rotating seasonal catches from the Gulf.
Afternoons are quieter. I once stopped in between crowds, sat at a picnic table, and ordered grouper. The fish tasted clean, almost sweet, and the ocean breeze carried the rest of the seasoning.
8. Blue Parrot Oceanfront Cafe
Children play on the sand directly below the deck at Blue Parrot, their laughter blending with gull calls. The scene feels lived-in, not staged.
This St. George Island shack serves blackened fish, fried shrimp, and snow crab clusters. Its broad deck opens fully to the beach.
Locals fill tables near sunset. I ordered a plate of shrimp there, and with waves echoing underneath, every bite felt amplified by the rhythm of tide and time.
9. The Sandbar Restaurant
Shade umbrellas punctuate the wide deck at The Sandbar, the surf almost within reach. The atmosphere invites long, drawn-out meals.
Their menu leans classic: peel-and-eat shrimp, oysters, crab cakes, grouper sandwiches. Attention to frying keeps textures crisp without heaviness.
On my visit, clam strips arrived just as the tide crept close. Eating them barefoot in the sand, I felt the simplicity of seafood and shore fuse into one unbroken experience.
10. Cortez Kitchen
Fishing boats idle a few feet from Cortez Kitchen’s dock, tying the restaurant directly to the Gulf’s daily rhythm. The vibe is salty and unvarnished.
Open since the 1990s, Cortez emphasizes local catch: grouper, snapper, mullet, and seasonal stone crab. The menu is straightforward, reflecting its fishing-village roots.
Locals recommend asking about specials. I did, and was steered toward blackened snapper fresh off a boat. The flavor carried proof of immediacy you can’t fake.
11. JB’s Fish Camp
The scent of buttered hush puppies hangs in the air at JB’s, mixing with brine drifting from Mosquito Lagoon.
Here, fried seafood platters dominate, supported by oysters and shrimp tacos. The camp also doubles as a launch for kayaks and paddleboards.
Weekends bring music and long waits. I stopped by on a quiet afternoon and split a platter of fried shrimp. The rhythm of water nearby matched the crunch perfectly.
12. Safe Harbor Seafood (Mayport)
Stacks of crab traps rise around Safe Harbor, evidence of the work behind the meal. The location is tied directly to Mayport’s fishing fleet.
Their counter service emphasizes fried platters and raw bar choices: oysters, clams, and shrimp. Many diners pick up fresh catch from the adjoining market.
I carried a grouper basket to a dockside table. The fish was firm yet delicate, the kind of freshness that proves seafood doesn’t need embellishment when served so close to the boats.
13. The Reef (St. Augustine)
Windows at The Reef open wide to the Atlantic, letting surf sounds roll through the dining room. The atmosphere feels both open and intimate.
The menu mixes shrimp, scallops, and fish tacos with broader entrees like linguine with clams. Seasonal specials rotate with availability from local waters.
Evenings grow hushed as the tide rises. I ate seared scallops by lamplight, the brine echoing the sea just outside. The meal ended, but the salt air lingered long after.
14. Alabama Jack’s
Wooden planks extend into mangroves at Alabama Jack’s, the shack rising directly from swampy edges of Card Sound. The setting is singular.
They’re known for fried seafood baskets: shrimp, oysters, and conch fritters when available. Soft-shell crabs appear in season.
Arriving at dusk, I ordered shrimp with fries. The portion was generous, but it was the backdrop, mangroves, still water, that made it memorable, a reminder that food and place are inseparable.
15. Hogfish Bar & Grill
Dock ropes and shrimping gear surround Hogfish Bar & Grill on Stock Island, where the line between working harbor and restaurant is thin.
Their specialty is the hogfish sandwich, often served fried with onions and cheese. Conch fritters and Key West pink shrimp round out the menu.
Locals crowd in after work. I joined once, sitting shoulder to shoulder with fishermen. The sandwich was flaky and rich, a taste that mirrored the livelihood unfolding just beyond the deck.