You’ll find it tucked away on Cheshire Bridge Road. If you aren't looking for the sign, you might miss it. Honestly, that’s part of the charm. The Colonnade Restaurant Atlanta GA isn't trying to be the "hottest new spot" on your Instagram feed. It has been around since 1927. Think about that for a second. It survived the Great Depression, World War II, and the total transformation of Atlanta from a sleepy Southern town into a sprawling international hub.
It's a place where the floor might creak and the lighting feels like a warm hug from your grandmother. You walk in and see a crowd that defies every marketing demographic. It’s a beautiful, chaotic mix. There are elderly couples who have likely occupied the same booth every Tuesday for forty years. Sitting right next to them? A group of young drag queens in full glam getting ready for a show nearby. Then there’s the family with three kids trying to negotiate how many yeast rolls they’re allowed to eat before the fried chicken arrives.
The Fried Chicken and the Myth of the "Southern Classic"
Most people come for the chicken. Is it the best in the city? People fight about that. Some say Mary Mac’s Tea Room takes the crown, while others swear by the newer, chef-driven spots in West Midtown. But here's the thing about the Colonnade: they don't do "artisanal" or "deconstructed." They do heavy cast-iron skillet vibes. The skin is thick, salty, and shatters when you bite it. It’s not spicy. It’s not "Nashville hot." It’s just... Southern.
If you’re expecting a light meal, you’ve come to the wrong place. This is "meat and three" territory, though the menu is actually much larger than that. You have the pot roast, which is basically a pile of tender, slow-cooked comfort. You have the salmon croquettes. And then there are the sides. The fried okra isn't that slimy stuff you get at a cafeteria; it’s crispy and addictive.
The yeast rolls are legendary. They arrive at the table warm. Don't even try to resist them. It’s a losing battle.
The interesting thing about the Colonnade is that it shouldn't work in 2026. Everything in Atlanta is moving toward sleek glass buildings and QR code menus. Here, the menu is a physical thing you hold in your hands. The servers—many of whom have worked there longer than some of the patrons have been alive—know the regulars by name. There is a specific kind of efficiency here. It’s not the frantic pace of a fast-casual chain. It’s a practiced, rhythmic movement.
Why Cheshire Bridge Road is Part of the Story
You can't talk about the Colonnade Restaurant Atlanta GA without talking about its neighborhood. Cheshire Bridge Road is legendary in Atlanta lore. It’s always been a bit... colorful. For decades, it was known for its mix of adult bookstores, neon-lit clubs, and some of the best "hole-in-the-wall" dining in the South.
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The Colonnade sits right in the middle of this. It’s a landmark of stability. While the city around it gentrifies at a breakneck pace, the Colonnade remains a neutral ground. It’s one of the few places where the "Old Atlanta" and the "New Atlanta" actually sit down at the same table. It’s a vestige of a time when restaurants were community anchors, not just business investments owned by private equity firms.
The Bar and the "Gay Cheers" Reputation
Step into the bar area and the energy shifts. It’s often referred to as the "Gay Cheers" of Atlanta. Long before it was trendy for corporations to put a rainbow flag in their window every June, the Colonnade was a safe haven. It became a cornerstone for the LGBTQ+ community in the mid-20th century.
Why? Because they just didn't care who you were as long as you were hungry and polite. That culture of radical acceptance—disguised as standard Southern hospitality—is what keeps the place alive. You’ll see "the ladies who lunch" sipping martinis next to a gay couple celebrating an anniversary. It’s seamless.
The Reality of Running a Legend
It hasn't always been easy. In 2020, like many iconic institutions, the restaurant faced a real threat of closing. Running a massive kitchen with rising food costs and an aging building is a nightmare for margins. But the community stepped up. A GoFundMe campaign raised over $100,000 in a matter of days. That doesn't happen for a chain. It happens for a place that people feel a spiritual connection to.
The owners, Jodi Stallings and her family, have been vocal about the challenges. They aren't trying to modernize the decor because the decor is the brand. If you painted the walls a trendy "millennial pink" or installed industrial Edison bulbs, the soul of the place would evaporate.
There’s a nuance to the food that often gets overlooked by food critics looking for "innovation." The Colonnade represents a specific era of American cookery. It’s the era of the relish tray. It’s the era of tomato aspic—which, let’s be honest, is a polarizing dish. Most people under 40 have no idea what to do with a jiggly red mold of tomato juice. But for those who grew up with it, it’s a taste of history.
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What to Expect on Your First Visit
Don't show up expecting a quiet, romantic candlelit dinner. It’s loud. It’s bustling.
- The Wait: On a weekend, expect a line. They don't really do the whole "reservation app" thing the way others do. You show up, you put your name in, and you wait.
- The Drink: Order a martini. They are famously stiff. The bartenders here don't mess around with tiny pours.
- The Order: If it’s your first time, get the fried chicken. If you’re a regular, you’re probably getting the trout or the prime rib.
- The Sides: Get the squash casserole. It’s cheesy, buttery, and probably contains more calories than a standard lunch, but it’s worth it.
One thing people get wrong is thinking the Colonnade is just for "old people." That’s a mistake. If you want to understand the DNA of Atlanta, you have to eat here. You have to see the intersection of different lives in one dining room.
Navigating the Menu Without Getting Overwhelmed
The menu is surprisingly large. It’s not just Southern fried staples. They have a massive selection of seafood. The broiled scallops and the fried shrimp are staples for the "meat-and-three" haters (though why you’d hate that is beyond me).
There’s also a rotating list of daily specials. You might find lamb shanks or a specific type of cobbler depending on the day. The key is to look at the chalkboard or ask your server what's fresh. They won't steer you wrong. They’ve seen thousands of people struggle with the choice between mashed potatoes and sweet potato souffle. (Hint: the answer is both).
A Note on the "Old School" Service
The service style is... direct. It’s not the overly polished, scripted service you find at a high-end steakhouse in Buckhead. It’s authentic. If you’re being a difficult diner, they might give you a look. If you’re nice, you’re family. It’s a refreshingly human experience in a world where everything feels curated and filtered.
The Cultural Significance of the "Meat and Three"
In the South, the "meat and three" is more than a meal structure. It’s a social equalizer. At the Colonnade Restaurant Atlanta GA, this format is preserved like a fine art. You choose your protein, and then you pick your vegetables. But in the South, "vegetables" is a loose term that includes macaroni and cheese and ambrosia salad.
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This style of eating traces back to the industrialization of the South, where workers needed a heavy, midday meal to get through the shift. While the Colonnade is mostly a dinner and weekend brunch spot now, it carries that DNA of "filling the belly."
Why We Need Places Like This
We live in an era of "concept" restaurants. A group of investors decides they want to do "tacos but with a Korean twist" and they hire a design firm to make it look like a warehouse in Brooklyn. It’s fine. The food is usually good. But it lacks a certain weight.
The Colonnade has weight.
It has the weight of nearly a century of birthdays, wakes, first dates, and "coming out" dinners. It has the weight of a staff that stayed through a pandemic. It has the weight of a neighborhood that is changing too fast for its own good. When you sit down at a table here, you aren't just a customer; you’re a participant in a long-running story.
Practical Advice for Your Visit
- Cash is helpful but they take cards. Still, having a few bucks for a tip for the valet or the bar is just good manners.
- Dress code? There isn't one. You'll see suits and you'll see t-shirts. Just be clean.
- Parking is a bit of a nightmare. The lot is cramped. Be patient or use a rideshare if you plan on having more than one of those famous martinis.
- Go for Sunday lunch. It is the quintessential Colonnade experience. The energy is at an all-time high.
- Try something weird. If you’ve never had calf's liver and onions, this is the place to try it. It’s a disappearing dish on American menus, but they still do it right here.
If you are visiting Atlanta and you only eat at the shiny new food halls like Ponce City Market or Krog Street, you are missing a massive piece of the puzzle. Those places are the "now," but the Colonnade is the "always." It represents the stubborn, grits-eating, martini-drinking soul of a city that is constantly trying to reinvent itself but can't quite let go of its past.
And thank goodness for that.
Next Steps for Your Visit
To get the most out of your trip to the Colonnade, aim for a late Sunday afternoon arrival around 3:00 PM to avoid the heaviest church crowd while still catching the full menu. Check their social media or call ahead specifically for their daily cobbler flavor, as the peach and blackberry varieties often sell out before the dinner rush begins. Finally, make sure to budget for the bar—the cocktails are priced fairly, but their strength is legendary, and you’ll want to enjoy one slowly while soaking in the atmosphere of the lounge.