Ru L.
Yelp
Tucked away in an unpretentious white house, Attagirl exudes the kind of no-frills charm that instantly reminded me of New Orleans' legendary Willie Mae's Scotch House. While the resemblance in exterior is striking--both could be mistaken for someone's grandmother's home--the similarity runs deeper. Attagirl, like Willie Mae's, takes fried chicken seriously. The main distinction? Willie Mae's offers the full bird, while Attagirl focuses with purpose: wings, nuggets, sandwiches--and a few non-chicken detours.
Stepping inside, the layout is spare: bar-style seating, a simple setup, and a walk-to-the-back ordering system that keeps things casual. The staff? Exceptionally helpful, especially for a first-timer like me. They broke down the menu (note: the online version is a bit of a maze) and guided me through their heat scale--San Antonio hot versus Nashville hot. I, perhaps wisely, deferred to Nashville.
Before diving into the main event, I started with their deviled eggs. Three per order, presented with a flourish: a dusting of what looked like grated Parmesan and some unexpected bursts of color--maybe paprika, maybe something else entirely--but visually intriguing. I've sampled deviled eggs across the South, from Austin, Atlanta, to Charleston, and I say this without hesitation: these were among the best. The yolk mixture was rich and deeply seasoned, with just enough zing to make you pause and appreciate it.
Then came the wings--only three to an order, which took me by surprise. (Yes, it's noted online. No, I didn't see it. See earlier menu note.) But what they lacked in quantity, they made up for in presence. Each wing was hefty, full-bodied, and laid over classic sliced white bread with a scattering of pickles. As the plate hit the counter, the aroma of spices wafted up--peppery, smoky, a little sinister. I let them rest a minute. Then, I picked up one, tore off the flapper, and in doing so, launched a confetti of seasoning across my shirt. One lick of my finger, and the fire hit--but behind the heat was bold, dynamic flavor. Not just spice for spice's sake. This was thoughtful heat. Nashville heat.
And the bite? Juicy. Moist. Brimming with character. In that moment, I was transported back to the first time I had Hattie B's in Nashville--a kind of crispy enlightenment. Attagirl's wings are every bit as memorable. And maybe, just maybe, three wings was the right call. I couldn't have handled a fourth.
Attagirl may look like a humble house on the outside, but inside lives some of the best fried chicken in the city--crackling with flavor, sweat-inducing heat, and Southern soul. A chicken shack in all the best ways.
