You’ve probably driven past it a dozen times without blinking. Sitting on a stretch of Cheshire Bridge Road that has seen better days—and more than its fair share of literal bridge fires lately—there’s a low-slung, beige building with a simple sign. It doesn’t scream "culinary destination." It doesn't have a Michelin star or a celebrity chef who does TikTok dances. Yet, the Colonnade Restaurant in Atlanta Georgia is quite possibly the most important dining room in the city.
Honestly, it’s a miracle it’s still here.
Most restaurants in Atlanta have the lifespan of a housefly. Concepts change, buildings get torn down for mixed-use condos, and "hip" neighborhoods shift every eighteen months. But the Colonnade has been serving fried chicken since 1927. That’s nearly a century. It survived the Great Depression, the transition from its original Piedmont Road location in 1962, and a global pandemic that nearly choked the life out of the local service industry.
The Grays and the Gays: A Beautifully Weird Demographic
If you want to understand the Colonnade, you have to understand the crowd. For decades, locals have affectionately called it the home of "the grays and the gays." It is a bizarre, heartwarming, and quintessentially Atlanta Venn diagram. On one side of the dining room, you have the "grays"—older Atlantans who have been coming here since the Eisenhower administration. They want their yeast rolls, their tomato aspic, and their early bird specials (though the official early bird menu famously bit the dust during the pandemic).
On the other side, you have the "gays." The Colonnade has long been a sanctuary for Atlanta’s LGBTQ+ community. It’s a place where you’ll see a drag queen in full regalia sitting two booths down from a church deacon, and both of them are attacking a plate of fried chicken livers with the same level of focus.
💡 You might also like: Wingate by Wyndham Columbia: What Most People Get Wrong
It’s a country club without the membership fees.
In late 2024, the restaurant hit a major crossroads. Jodi and David Stallings, who had run the place for years, decided it was time to retire. People panicked. When an institution like this goes on the market, the fear is always that a developer will buy it, scrape the lot, and put up a luxury car wash. But something better happened. Two longtime regulars—Paul Donahue and Lewis Jeffries—bought it. They aren't corporate vultures; they’re guys who actually eat there. Jeffries has been coming since he was a kid with his grandparents. They get it.
What You’re Actually Eating (And Why You’re Ordering a Martini)
Let’s talk about the food, because it’s not exactly "light." The Colonnade Restaurant in Atlanta Georgia is the high temple of the meat-and-three, though the portions are more like "meat-and-too-much."
The fried chicken is the undisputed heavyweight champion. It’s not Nashville hot; it’s not Korean double-fried; it’s just perfect, salty, crispy Southern fried chicken. They sell a staggering amount of it—nearly half of all entrees. And then there are the yeast rolls. They arrive warm, fluffy, and basically designed to be a vehicle for as much butter as your heart can handle.
📖 Related: Finding Your Way: The Sky Harbor Airport Map Terminal 3 Breakdown
- Fried Chicken: The skin is thin and crackles, never greasy.
- Tomato Aspic: A polarizing, jiggly relic of the 1950s that the regulars would riot over if it ever left the menu.
- Coconut Ice Box Pie: It's exactly what your grandmother used to make, assuming your grandmother was a professional pastry chef.
- The Martini: This is non-negotiable. The Colonnade is famous for its "freezer-cold" martinis. They are stiff, they are classic, and they are usually served by legendary bartenders like Jay Skinner or Rhea Merritt, who have been there longer than most of the customers.
The new owners haven't messed with the core. Why would they? They’ve brought back some pre-pandemic favorites like fried oysters and prime rib, and they’ve finally added a physical wine list. For years, the wine list was basically just a waiter telling you they had "red or white."
Surviving the Cheshire Bridge Curse
Cheshire Bridge Road is a vibe, but it’s a difficult one. Between 2021 and 2024, the road was plagued by bridge fires that cut off access to the restaurant for months. Imagine trying to run a business where your customers literally cannot drive to your front door.
The community stepped up. A GoFundMe in 2020 raised over $120,000 to keep the lights on. That doesn't happen for just any restaurant. People don’t donate six figures to a chain steakhouse. They do it for the Colonnade because it’s a piece of their own history.
Walking into the dining room today feels a bit like a time machine. The decor is leaning into a "Palm Springs meets Palm Beach" mid-century look under the new ownership—think pinks, greens, and a bit more energy. It’s a subtle refresh, not a total teardown. They’re keeping the black and beige bones but giving it a pulse for 2026.
👉 See also: Why an Escape Room Stroudsburg PA Trip is the Best Way to Test Your Friendships
How to Do the Colonnade Right
If you're planning a visit, don't show up expecting a fast-casual experience. This is a place to sit. To talk. To eavesdrop on the table next to you.
First, check the hours. They’ve traditionally been closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, though the new owners have looked into expanding that.
Second, forget the diet. This is not the place for a kale salad. You are here for the fried chicken, the pot roast, or the salmon croquettes. If you’re feeling adventurous, try the fried chicken livers. They are a "treat" for the older generation that is increasingly hard to find on modern menus.
Third, bring your patience. They don't take reservations. On a Friday night, the lobby is a sea of people, mostly regulars who all seem to know each other. You’ll see Randell Stenson at the host stand—he’s been the face of the place for over three decades. Just get a drink at the bar, soak in the 1960s atmosphere, and wait your turn.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Visit
- The Drink: Order the martini. Even if you aren't a martini person, it's the signature move.
- The Side: If you want the true "old Atlanta" experience, try the tomato aspic. If you want to actually enjoy your side dish, go for the mac and cheese or the sweet potato soufflé.
- The Timing: Sunday lunch is a religious experience for some, but Friday nights are when the "Grumpy Old Ladies of the 'Nade" (a real group of regulars) and the local characters come out to play.
- The Payment: For decades, this was a cash-only joint. They finally started taking plastic in 2014, so you don't need to hit the ATM beforehand anymore, but it still feels "cash-only" in spirit.
The Colonnade isn't just a restaurant; it’s a survivor. In a city that is constantly trying to reinvent itself, there is something deeply comforting about a place where the fried chicken tastes exactly the same as it did in 1979. It’s a testament to the idea that if you feed people well and treat them like family, they’ll stick by you—even through fires, pandemics, and the passage of a century.