The glorious boiled peanuts at Euclid Avenue Yacht Club in Little Five Points, Atlanta. (All photos: Mark C. Anderson)
Aug. 21, 2026—The flavor hits and suddenty I’m shaking my head in disbelief and saying out loud to no one in particular, “How the hell are these so good?”
The craziest thing: These humble boiled peanuts might be the most moving food moment in a swing through the South overstuffed with such moments.
I’m talking watermelon shakes and hush puppies, heavenly fried catfish and hellish “zombie” burgers, blackened redfish and chicken biscuits and meaty collard greens and Georgia peach cobbler crisp too.
“I’m just a simple country cook,” Great Aunt Cathie says when I marvel at the plunder of homemade tastes she assembles for Decoration Day.
I mean, all by itself, a single family lunch unleashed creamed corn, black-eyed peas, coleslaw, deviled eggs, green beans with bacon, macaroni and cheese, buttery mashed potatoes, fried chicken, cucumber-onion salad and chicken and dumplings, with banana pudding and “dirt” pudding for dessert.
Despite all that, it’s these peanuts—which my Georgia native cousin Harold pronounces, “bull’d peenuz”—that have me on tilt, in part because the recipe to make them involves a total of two ingredients, not counting time.
Just the footwear alone differentiates Junkman’s Daughter as a destination, from the massive high heel staircase to the tricked out sneakers and taco slippers.
Little Five Points represents one of my favorite zones in Atlanta, starting with the motto on an on-brand arty city sign: “We’re All Here ‘Cause We’re Not All There.”
You can’t throw a fried green tomato without hitting something rich with identity and intrigue, from Psycho Sisters (a fly used clothing emporium) to Criminal Records (a local-and-independent record store-music venue) to Junkman’s Daughter “clothing store” (and its truly epic inventory of knee-high sneakers, vintage zodiac posters, taco slippers and oven mitts with proverbs like, “I followed a recipe once. It was f**king boring”).
This is a place where it’s possible—and advisable—to take down a Zombie Apocalypse burger at The Vortex, piled with a sunny-side egg, barbecue pulled pork, spicy honey barbecue sauce and pepper jack cheese on Texas Toast, then take in a flurry of short films at the Atlanta Underground Film Festival.
L5P is also where I had my first rendezvous boiled peanuts, officially cleaving my life on planet into two halves, BBP and ABP.
At The Vortex, one of Atlanta’s most celebrated burger destinations, the Zombie Apocalypse piles on pulled pork and a fried egg, and the Idiot-Free Zone policy has been in place since 1992: “Simply stated, it means ‘you be nice, and we’ll be nice.’”
I had a great feeling about Euclid Avenue Yacht Club pre-peanut.
Note the stained-glass parrots hanging from the overhead lamp, the white shark replica, and the framed “CARTER WINS” front page celebrating peanut farmer Jimmy’s victory in 1977.
Not to mention the salt-of-the-Earth approach of the menu, featuring old-school angles like a $7 “Line Cook” combo of a draft Pabst Blue Ribbon and a shot of Tullamore D.E.W.
An Atlanta eating odyssey feels more complete after a buttermilk ranch chicken biscuit from Hop’s Chicken in Ponce City Market, a destination food hall.
I take my $7 steaming nuts out onto the shaded parklet in front, and the messy nirvana ensues.
I feel my forehead crinkling and doing the “oh yes” nod before I realize I’m doing it.
These are stunningly good, plying a depth of texture and complexity amplified further with a medley of zingy, earthy and spicy seasoning.
I intercept a surly cook as I return my basket of empty shells to the bar—wondering why the dish hasn’t caught on in other parts of the country, but glad it’s something that also feels and tastes very much of a place.
“How are these so tasty?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I use our house rub on them,” he says. “Then I cook the s*** out of them.”
The crazy twist there: The next time I try them, they’re just as good, no special seasoning needed.
Wax N Facts and Criminal Records give independent record shops double dope expression in Little Five Points.
A specific sort of Southern tradition inspired this pilgrimage.
Decoration Day, for some parts of rural Georgia and elsewhere in the world, assembles families for a homecoming every August that involves adorning graves of ancestors with faux flowers, a vigorous Southern Baptist sermon, and the aforementioned smorgasbord of high-satisfaction low-country delicacies by Great Aunt Cathie Mull.
I got to decorate the final resting places of my great grandma and grandpa, and several of my grandma’s 11 siblings—the family farm needed staffing—and visit my great great grandad and grandmama at Mount Zion Baptist Church too.
I also had the chance to try Cousin Harold’s own take on boiled peanuts.
I employ no exaggeration when I report I cannot believe how much richness and layers of tastiness emerges from slow-cooking shelled peanuts with little more than sea salt.
Cousin Harold (left) after a whitewater rafting lunch break to grab a 1/4 pound of pulled pork with North Carolina-style sauces on the river shore.
I mean, with Cousin Harold’s crock pot keeping these beauties warm and ready at our rented house by the river, it was boiled peanuts for breakfast (and timely snacking) all Decoration weekend.
Now I’m fixing to make them for a college reunion this weekend, and to share Cousin Harold’s recipe for anyone who wants to experience the wonder in their own kitchen:
A bag of raw peanuts in their shells will normally fill up a crockpot, which I set on high.
I put the peanuts on at night around 9 or 10pm.
I let them cook all night and check them when I get up in the morning, which is around 7am. At that time I will taste to see if need more time to cook concerning how soft they are—if they’re still crunchy, give them another hour.
It’s really upon taste. If they’re not soft enough to you, give them a little more time.
When you do the start up, it is better to pour layers of peanuts with salt in between. Salt is really a taste preference—I do not measure, I just pour.
I use sea salt, as it gives a better taste.
If I have to get up to use the bathroom I’ll refill the water, as the raw peanuts will soak it up quickly.
Once they get several hours of cooking, they will not soak up as much.
They can be messy and juicy, but that just means you can pop them in your mouth and enjoy the juice as you help loosen the shell.
Your favorite columnist crouches to decorate the grave of his great grandparents James and Nettie, who gave birth to the author’s grandma and her 10 siblings.
Cousin Harold’s coaching gets at an additional ingredient worth mentioning besides peanuts and sea salt.
Time.
One revelation there: Waiting to enjoy these peanuts—and waiting to make great pals you didn’t know you had until revisiting your family roots—can prove both overdue and immensely rewarding.
Mark C. Anderson, EMB’s managing editor, swears by municipal lap pools and public transportation, carousels included.
Dining and Cooking