11 South Carolina Lowcountry Shrimp Shacks I Tested (5 Were Worth A Detour)
There’s a kind of hush that settles over the Lowcountry at dusk, the air heavy with salt, the light turning everything to honey, and shrimp boats rocking just offshore. That’s the world these coastal shacks belong to, where seafood is pulled from the water and onto your plate with barely a pause in between.
I wandered from tidal creeks to barrier islands, chasing the scent of butter, spice, and wood smoke, and found places where shrimp boils still bring people together under string lights and open skies.
Each stop has its own charm: porches with peeling paint, picnic tables by the marsh, and locals swapping stories over paper plates. Here are eleven shrimp spots that taste like the tide itself: fresh, unfussy, and deeply Lowcountry.
11. Shrimp Shack, St. Helena Island
There’s always a breeze coming off the marsh here, carrying the smell of salt and oil. The small white shack stands quiet until lunchtime, when pickup windows open and a line curls into the grass.
Shrimp baskets arrive hot and unapologetic; crisp coating, peppery bite, soft fries tucked underneath. No sauces needed; the shrimp speak for themselves.
It’s the kind of place that reminds you simplicity isn’t lack, it’s confidence. The Shrimp Shack knows exactly what it is and makes no apologies.
10. The Sea Shack, Hilton Head Island
Fried shrimp, grilled grouper, crab cakes, the menu feels like a greatest-hits tape of coastal comfort. Each plate is hand-battered, quick-fried, and stacked high under lemon wedges and paper napkins.
Since the ’90s, this hidden Hilton Head gem has thrived on word of mouth rather than marketing, a locals-first spot that tourists eventually stumble into.
Tip: skip fancy attire and arrive early. The Sea Shack’s line forms fast, and once you get your tray, you’ll realize waiting was part of the charm.
9. Bowen’s Island Restaurant, Charleston
From the dock, you hear gulls shriek and smell wood smoke twisting from the oyster pit below, this place doesn’t whisper authenticity, it shouts it. The air is salt-thick and lively.
Inside, long communal tables and handwritten signs set the tone: relaxed, familial, perfectly imperfect. Then come the shrimp—fried, light, clean, just kissed by brine.
I sat by the window, watching shrimp boats drift home, and realized the magic wasn’t nostalgia, it was honesty. Bowen’s isn’t posing; it’s just living its truth daily.
8. The Wreck of the Richard & Charlene, Mount Pleasant
You cross the wooden walkway and feel the planks shift beneath your feet, already part of the rhythm. Ceiling fans hum over paper-covered tables, and the smell of shrimp and hush puppies fills the air.
The namesake “Wreck” is literal: the building sits near the site of a shrimp boat sunk in a 1989 hurricane. History lingers in every creak and salt stain.
You should order the fried shrimp platter with slaw and hush puppies, then stay for sunset, it turns dinner into folklore.
7. Seewee Restaurant, Awendaw
A chorus of cicadas greets you before the screen door shuts behind you. Inside, shelves sag with mason jars, license plates, and framed photos of fishermen. The place hums like a general store that forgot to retire.
The shrimp are dredged in cornmeal, fried light, and paired with red rice and collard greens that taste like someone’s grandmother’s secret.
I found it quietly perfect, Southern hospitality without performance, food without fuss. It felt like Awendaw’s heartbeat served on a chipped plate.
6. Flowers Seafood Company To-Go, Edisto Island
Steam seeps through the carry-out window before you even step up. The air smells of butter and sea brine, hinting at what’s waiting inside the brown paper bag.
This family-run shack sells shrimp caught off their own boats, fried to order and handed over with corn and potatoes still steaming. The logistics are simple and seamless.
It’s best enjoyed tailgate-style, parked by the marsh. The shrimp stay hot long enough for the view to catch up with the flavor.
5. Worth A Detour: Dave’s Carry-Out, Charleston
I really liked this one. The smell of grease and salt hits before the sign does, a beacon for late-night wanderers and anyone chasing true Charleston fried shrimp.
The narrow space hums with fryers and old-school soul radio. Every order is cooked fresh: shrimp tossed in light batter, fried until the edges curl and snap. The hush puppies taste faintly of corn and time.
There’s no pretense here, just pleasure. I’ve had finer dining, sure, but few meals this honest or this completely satisfying.
4. Worth A Detour: Lee’s Inlet Kitchen, Murrells Inlet
Shrimp platters here are a family tradition, lightly dusted, fried golden, and served beside coleslaw that cools the palate perfectly. The fish’s sweetness shines under just enough seasoning.
Since 1948, Lee’s has stayed in family hands, and you can taste that continuity. They still hand-bread each shrimp, same as they did when locals arrived by boat.
Tip: grab a seat near the window if you can. Watching the marsh shimmer as you eat makes the hush puppies taste even better.
3. Worth A Detour: Hudson’s Seafood House on the Docks, Hilton Head Island
Before you taste a thing, the view steals the show, shrimp boats drifting home, gulls hovering for scraps, dock ropes creaking in rhythm. The air smells like salt and diesel and dinner.
Inside, the kitchen preps shrimp caught from the restaurant’s own fleet that morning, frying them crisp or grilling them buttery and bright.
I sat by the glass with a cold drink, trying not to rush. The shrimp tasted like the water looked, clear, alive, and perfectly seasoned by nature.
2. Worth A Detour: Bluffton Family Seafood House, Bluffton
Another one worth a detour. It starts with sound: families chatting, plates clinking, the creak of wood floors that feel like they’ve absorbed decades of shrimp steam and laughter. The vibe is cheerful, the kind that makes strangers talk across tables.
The seafood comes straight from the May River, shrimp fried light with a soft crackle and just enough salt to echo the tide.
I liked how unhurried it all felt. Bluffton doesn’t sell you a scene; it gives you supper, and that’s a rare kind of luxury.
1. Worth A Detour: SeaCow Eatery, Edisto Island
A chalkboard menu greets you first, scribbled with daily catches and notes about which sides just came out of the kitchen. There’s something comforting about that handwriting, proof that someone’s paying attention.
The shrimp arrive golden, the breading cornmeal-light, and the flavor as sweet as the coastal air drifting in from the dunes. Coffee mugs and locals’ laughter fill the rest.
Visitor habit: order the shrimp basket, then linger for pie. It’s breakfast-brunch-dinner all at once, the Edisto rhythm perfectly intact.