The sign outside reads, ‘Fish Fry Every Day’ - a more convincing advertisement simply isn’t needed. I pull my trusty steed over and enter The Spot - a little-known neighborhood eatery on Ralph McGill. Inside, there are maybe half a dozen tables, and several stools nestled around an L-shaped lunch-counter style bar. To the right of the bar is a handwritten menu consisting of about 6 main dishes and a handful of sides - none of which is more than $8. I’m greeted familiarly by an auntie with dreads, and an older gentleman with smiling eyes and a sporty demeanor.

I would soon come to know the older gent as Mr. Pie, and the dreadlocked sister as Pam, one of the owners of the Spot.

You can feel the soul embedded in the bones of the old building and you can certainly taste it in the food.

“Oh, this place was a mess. We basically gutted it,” Pam shares with me as I search for salvation at the bottom of a plate of food. “Both of us worked on it - we put in the floors, worked on the roof…the art on the wall? That’s from my home.” Mr. Pie, who worked for the previous owner and had extensive knowledge of what repairs were needed, chimes in proudly, “You know what was good about Pam? She listened.” You can feel the soul embedded in the bones of the old building and you can certainly taste it in the food. A Chicago native, Pam got her culinary start in Atlanta catering large affairs for the 100 Black Men and Spelman alumni. Her experience shows. The mac-and-cheese is super cheesy but not overly salty, the greens are reminiscent of my grandmother’s, the bbq beef brisket is slow-smoked - tender on the inside with a nice char on the outside, and the fish? Forget about it. 

But the warm, soulful feeling of The Spot isn’t contained within the four walls of the building - it extends into the surrounding neighborhood as well. Mr. Pie shows me a framed picture of about 15 people grouped together beaming into the camera. “We took this after our Feed the Homeless event the year before last.” Pam, a professed Buddhist, believes in giving back every bit that she’s been given. Her voice goes soft as she recounts one particularly poignant story. “There was a woman who came into the restaurant some time after that event. She told me that she had been ‘working on her back’ and on drugs for years, but when she saw that there were people like us out there who still cared…it was enough to make her want to get her act together.” The woman now works at the nearby Atlanta Medical Center.

Long after my food is finished, we talk leisurely about topics from music, to Atlanta traffic, to careers in IT. Since The Spot’s neighbor, Tower II, literally went up in flames, business has been slower; but word about good food has a way of spreading. The other patrons that file in and out are easily incorporated into the conversation - everyone is treated like a regular here. A brother about my age commiserates with me on the current state of hip-hop; A middle-aged white guy from Down East looks almost sheepish as he admits that this is his second trip to The Spot in as many days, and that he hopes to squeeze in one more visit before he leaves town. His weakness: the ribs.

By the time I finally pull away from the bar and say my good-byes, I can’t help but notice some subtle transformations. My empty belly is now full, my pocket only a mite lighter, and my soul has definitely been enriched.

cheers,

k

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The Spot

737 Ralph Mcgill Blvd Ne
Atlanta, GA 30312
(404) 221-0378
Hours: Tues-Fri, 11a - 10p