13 Georgia Fried Chicken Places Grandma Could Get Behind
There’s fried chicken, and then there’s the kind that makes your knees wobble, your eyes close, and your mouth hum a hymn no one taught you. Georgia knows the difference.
This list is not for dabblers or diet talkers, it’s for those who understand the holy crisp of a properly seasoned crust and the warm, buttery promise inside.
These thirteen temples of poultry offer soul, sizzle, and secrets passed down through apron strings. Grandma would approve, but she’d still out-fry them. Let’s eat anyway and argue about it later.
1. Busy Bee Cafe, Atlanta
Collard greens steam up the windows like gossip. Inside, you’re met with the scent of slow-cooked legacy and hot grease optimism. The tables wobble with history.
Fried chicken arrives piping hot with a crust so golden it should pay rent. Juicy, peppery, and honest, each bite tastes like it earned its place.
Open since 1947, Busy Bee doesn’t whisper tradition. It shouts it, serves it with yams, and dares you to leave one crumb behind. You won’t.
2. Mary Mac’s Tea Room, Atlanta
The hostess calls you “sweetheart” whether you deserve it or not. Framed photos stare down like a family reunion you didn’t RSVP for.
Their chicken is breaded like a ceremony, fried until it sings, then served with sides so comforting they practically write your memoir.
Mary Mac’s has been standing proud since 1945, and Atlanta treats it like a culinary auntie. Fill out a “Tradition Card” and tell them where you’re from, they want to know.
3. The Colonnade, Atlanta
Red velvet banquettes and stiff white tablecloths. It feels like dinner at your stylish great-aunt’s house, the one with matching Tupperware and secrets.
Fried chicken here is textbook and timeless. Skin so crisp it shatters, meat so moist it might write poetry. It’s not hip, and that’s why it rules.
Open since 1927, this isn’t your trendy brunch spot. It’s your “we came here as kids” institution, complete with neon signs and loyal regulars.
4. Paschal’s, Atlanta
History doesn’t just hang on the wall, it floats in the cornbread air. Civil Rights leaders dined here between strategy sessions and smothered pork chops.
The chicken? Buttermilk-bathed, spice-whispered, and crisped with generational pride. It’s plated with grace and a mac and cheese side that borders on scandalous.
Paschal’s has worn many hats: lunch counter, meeting hall, soul food sanctuary. It’s now a sleek, polished version of itself—but the chicken remembers.
5. South City Kitchen, Atlanta
White tablecloths. Brick walls. Fried chicken served like it belongs in a ballgown. This is Southern cooking that took finishing school but kept its roots.
The bird is brined, floured, and fried with surgical precision. It sits atop mashed potatoes like royalty, accompanied by collards that know what they’re doing.
Located in Midtown, it draws locals, tourists, and ambitious brunchers. Make a reservation or practice your patience, perfection draws a crowd.
6. The Beautiful Restaurant, Atlanta
Line up like it’s Sunday morning and your cousin just finished his solo. Everyone’s here: families, elders, students, believers. The vibe is gospel-adjacent.
Chicken is served cafeteria-style, but the flavor is strictly home-cooked. That crust crunches like good news. The meat? Tender with the confidence of prayer.
Open since 1979, it’s run by the House of Prayer, which may explain why the banana pudding feels like a benediction.
7. Twisted Soul Cookhouse & Pours, Atlanta
Chef Deborah VanTrece doesn’t follow the rules, she rewrites them with gravy. The space is sleek but warm, the menu playful but anchored in soul.
Fried chicken gets updated with global whispers. Think cardamom in the crust or unexpected sauces that zing without showing off.
Located on Huff Road, it’s the kind of place where cornbread might arrive like a sculpture. Take your time. Respect the remix.
8. Table & Main, Roswell
Candlelight flickers off reclaimed wood. Servers discuss bourbon flights, but the chicken on the menu stops time. It smells like home on a Saturday.
Heritage birds, fried in lard, seasoned so precisely it feels like alchemy. Served with hot sauce and a biscuit that should be in a museum.
Roswell locals crowd this house-turned-restaurant nightly. Make a reservation or lean into porch envy. Either way, the chicken wins.
9. Home Grown GA, Atlanta
It looks like a thrift shop married a diner and had a very charming child. Vinyl booths, kitschy art, and biscuits the size of small dogs.
Chicken here comes hot and loud, crust so rugged it’s practically armor. Get it on a plate or in a biscuit called “The Comfy.”
You’ll wait. Everyone does. No one minds. Bring a book or talk to the stranger next to you. They probably have strong opinions about gravy.
10. Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room, Savannah
No menu. No pomp. Just communal tables, heaping platters, and strangers blessing their food in unison. It’s not a restaurant. It’s a rite.
The fried chicken is passed family-style, golden and steaming, delicate and assertive. Each piece is an argument for seconds.
Arrive early and line up outside the old boardinghouse. When the door opens, time slips backward. Don’t ask questions. Just eat.
11. H&H Soul Food, Macon
Once fed The Allman Brothers, now feeding everybody else. This spot hums with jukebox nostalgia and gravy dreams.
The chicken is soulful, hot, and hugged in batter. Sides rotate, but fried green tomatoes and lima beans show up like reliable cousins.
Serving since 1959, H&H wears its history proudly. It’s not just a restaurant, it’s part of Macon’s heartbeat. Don’t forget to hug your plate.
12. Wife Saver, Augusta
Don’t let the name fool you. This place saves lunch breaks, family dinners, and emotional states. It’s counter-service comfort, fried and fast.
The chicken is simple, salty, and golden. Crisp on the outside, juicy inside. Add hush puppies. Add slaw. Add napkins.
With multiple locations, it’s an Augusta staple. People argue over which one is best. The answer is whichever one’s closest when you’re hungry.
13. Geneva’s Famous Chicken & Cornbread, Savannah
Step inside and you’ll never forget it. The smell alone should be bottled and sold at apothecaries.
Geneva’s fried chicken doesn’t bother with modesty. It crunches. It steams. It holds flavor like a keepsake box. Don’t skip the cornbread. Just don’t.
Locals crowd in, swap gossip, and eye each other’s plates. The vibe is grandma’s kitchen if she let strangers in and ran it like a boss.