Unearth The Voyage
Tucked along Co Rd 63 in tiny Houston, Alabama, Chef Troy’s Talk of the Town proves small towns can deliver big flavor. With a 4.6 star glow and locals lining up as early as 6:30 AM, this seafood spot turns cravings into traditions. Every plate feels like a road trip down the Gulf Coast, only friendlier and more affordable. Come hungry, leave bragging to your friends, and plan your next visit before you reach the parking lot.
You smell the fryer before you see the platter, and suddenly the whole table leans in. Chef Troy piles golden Gulf shrimp high, lightly seasoned so the sweetness still shines through. A squeeze of lemon wakes it up, tartar sauce cools it down, and hushpuppies add that perfect crunch.
Coleslaw brings a creamy snap, balancing every bite like a practiced dance. The shrimp stay tender, never rubbery, and you can taste the coast without leaving Houston. It feels nostalgic and fresh at once, simple and proud of it.
Order it when you want no guesswork, just happiness by the forkful. You will finish faster than you planned, then reach for one more hushpuppy anyway. It is the platter you recommend first, and probably last, because nobody argues with shrimp done right.
Choices can be tough, so Chef Troy gives you both. One fillet comes fried to a crackly, golden crust that shatters softly. The other arrives blackened, smoky and peppery, with edges that glow like campfire stories.
Fries soak up the drippings, coleslaw cools the spice, and pickles snap you back between bites. You will love how the mild catfish lets the seasoning sing without ever turning muddy. It is a showcase of texture, a plate that feels half fairground, half riverside dock.
Ask for extra lemon to brighten the blackened side, then save a corner of fried for the finale. You leave full but not heavy, already plotting a return visit. Two styles, one plate, and a lesson in why catfish is a local legend here.
This bowl is comfort turned into a ritual. Stone-ground grits arrive creamy and patient, ready to hug buttery shrimp. A savory gravy ties it together, with hints of smoke, pepper, and the kind of stock that takes time.
Scallions and peppers add lift, so every bite moves from rich to bright. The shrimp stay bouncy, carrying their own sweetness through the sauce. It is the plate you order when you need reassurance and a little celebration, both at once.
Stir, taste, then slow down so you can catch every detail. You will glance up, grin, and probably guard your bowl like it is precious. At Chef Troy’s, shrimp and grits is more than breakfast or dinner. It is a conversation starter and a memory keeper.
Thursday here feels like a weekly reunion. Doors open late, the chatter rises, and big platters pass from table to table. You taste the rhythm of a small town that knows exactly where to be.
Expect shrimp, catfish, and sides crowding your table in the friendliest way. The pace is lively, the music soft, and the service efficient with a wink. Specials rotate, but the spirit stays the same, generous and neighborly.
Bring friends or make new ones between refills. You will leave with leftovers and a few stories to tell. It is the night that makes weekend plans arrive early, reminding you why community and seafood go so well together.
These little orbs are the side that turns into a main event. Cornmeal crunch gives way to a tender middle that tastes faintly sweet. Dip into whipped honey butter and suddenly the basket disappears.
They pair with shrimp like old friends and do not mind being breakfast. The fry is clean, never greasy, letting you keep reaching for one more. You will compare every hushpuppy afterward and find them wanting.
Ask for a fresh basket if you linger, because the warmth makes a difference. Share only if you are feeling generous, and even then, count quickly. At Chef Troy’s, hushpuppies are a love letter to simple pleasures done right.
Doors open at 6:30 AM, and the regulars already know their orders. Eggs come just how you like them, with grits smooth and patient. A flaky biscuit soaks up butter, while bacon or country ham handles the salty business.
Coffee arrives hot and steady, the kind that keeps conversations moving. Breakfast here feels honest, built for farmers, travelers, and hungry planners. You watch the kitchen move like clockwork and feel the day click into place.
If seafood is later, this is the warm-up lap. You leave fueled, clear-headed, and a little proud of the early start. It is proof that comfort can be quick without cutting corners, especially on a Monday morning.
Fried oysters are a test of timing, and this kitchen passes. The crust stays delicate, the center creamy and briny, like a whisper from the bay. A quick dunk in hot sauce and a squeeze of lemon turns the lights up.
They pair well with fries, but slaw gives the better contrast. Each bite moves fast, so slow down and enjoy the texture shift. It is easy to order another round, especially when the table nods in unison.
You will remember the balance more than the heat. The oysters still taste like oysters, not just batter. That restraint is what keeps you coming back, plate after plate, story after story.
When you want lighter, this plate steps up. The fish arrives with gentle char and citrusy perfume, flaky without falling apart. A drizzle of butter or olive oil makes it shine without hiding the flavor.
Seasonal sides keep things interesting, from beans to greens to roasted vegetables. You get color, texture, and that feeling of eating smart without losing joy. It is the kind of dish that works on a weekday lunch or a Saturday evening.
Add extra lemon, take your time, and let the grill marks do the talking. You will leave satisfied and steady, not weighed down. It is proof that seafood does not need fireworks to feel special.
Big groups need big solutions, and this platter has answers. Shrimp, catfish, oysters, and hushpuppies crowd together like cousins at a reunion. Sauces line the edges, ready for dipping, deciding, and comparing bites.
It is festive, generous, and just messy enough to feel like a celebration. Everyone gets a favorite without fighting over the last piece, at least for a minute. Fries fill the gaps, and laughter does the rest.
Order it when you cannot choose or when you want the table to linger. You will trade recommendations and probably invent a house rule. By the end, the platter looks like a story well told.
This sandwich leans into contrast. The catfish is mild and flaky, cloaked in a crisp jacket that stays crunchy. House pickles cut through like a friendly shout, while remoulade adds steady warmth.
The bread holds together even under pressure, which matters halfway through. Lettuce and tomato keep it honest, reminding you it is still lunch, not a dare. Every bite lands clean and well balanced, perfect for road trips and river days.
Ask for extra napkins and a side of fries to stretch the moment. You will finish content, not stuffed, dreaming about the next visit. Simplicity wins again, right here on Co Rd 63.
Sunday lunch hums with friendly momentum. Families arrive dressed up, kids point at hushpuppies, and plates stack high. The dining room feels bright and unhurried, like everyone agreed to savor the day.
Service moves smoothly, even when the line stretches. You hear greetings by name and the soft shuffle of chairs. Seafood tastes a little better when shared after church, and the sides feel extra comforting.
Plan ahead because popular plates move fast. You will leave waving at someone you just met, promising to return soon. It is the heartbeat of the week at Chef Troy’s, warm, gracious, and full of flavor.
Little diners get their own moment here. Small fried shrimp keep the crunch without overwhelming tiny hands. Fries arrive golden and friendly, with a ketchup smile waiting on the side.
Parents appreciate the portion size and the clean fry. Kids appreciate that it tastes like the grown up plate, just sized right. Everyone wins, and the table stays peaceful long enough to sip sweet tea.
Add a hushpuppy or snag one from your platter with permission. You will likely hear a happy quiet, the best sign of approval. The kids basket proves family friendly can still mean flavorful.
Every meal needs a sweet landing. The tea comes cold and honest, with enough sugar to smooth the edges. Lemon brightens sips between bites of seafood, keeping the tempo steady.
Pies rotate, but pecan and chocolate show up like beloved regulars. The crust holds together, buttery and confident, while fillings deliver comfort. You finish dessert feeling looked after, not overwhelmed.
Share a slice or go solo. Either way, you will wonder why you waited to try dessert. It is the quiet finale that turns a good meal into a complete one.
What keeps you coming back is not just the seafood. It is the way the staff remembers your face and how you like your coffee. Refills appear, suggestions feel honest, and the timing hits that easy, confident stride.
The room glows with wood and nostalgia, but nothing feels stale. Locals trade stories, travelers relax, and everybody eats well. You feel welcomed on the first visit and recognized on the second.
Call ahead if you are bringing a crowd, and expect a genuine smile. You will leave with a full belly and better mood. Chef Troy’s proves hospitality is still a living art in Houston, Alabama.
