A Gulf Seafood Haven
Felix’s Fish Camp Is the Best Gulf Seafood with a View.
A short drive from Mobile on the way to Alabama’s beaches is a pit stop worthy of your appetites.
By Eric Gibson | September 25, 2024If you buy something from a Vittles&Nosh link, we may earn a commission at no cost to you. Read our affiliate policy.
Halfway across the causeway that spans the northern tip of Mobile Bay is a pitstop on the sliver of land between the bustling city of Mobile and the beaches of Gulf Shores.
Here be proper maritime territory.
Fisherman and dockworkers. Rugged folk who eat well. Guaranteed to find some good food, I was hooked. I pulled off the highway and rolled into the gravel lot as a squall moved in. The heavy clouds meant I’d miss the sunset, but something about fishing and the rain made it feel right.
I had arrived at Felix’s Fish Camp.
On the outside, the weathered boards, boat hulls, and fishing nets that formed the building looked as if it had washed ashore in the last hurricane. The giant sign out front, with its flashing blue neon, was the perfect beacon for hungry travelers motoring their way to the beaches or back to The Port City.
With the rain picking up, I wound my way up the gangplank to the entryway, through the storm door, and into a jammed-packed host stand. Obviously, that was a good omen.
Inside, like outside, was made up of weather-worn odds and ends, boats hanging from the ceiling crafted into giant light fixtures, booths separated by rustic shutters, and warm wooden tables. It made the entire shack feel cozy. Everywhere I looked were worn window sashes, walls adorned with old pictures and placards, netting and buoys, fishing poles, wicker chairs, and buzzing neon—all seemingly haphazard yet placed with care.
This, indeed, felt like a fish camp. With a view to die for.
The Best View on the Bay
On any other day, the focal point would be the massive wall of windows that lined the back of the dining room. Normally. When not under a giant rain cloud.
But the heavy sky and soft rain honestly made Felix’s even more cozy.
Despite clouds and showers, the bay could be seen stretching to the horizon, and the Port, with its glowing cranes, rose just out of reach with the glow of crane lights and the sparkle of downtown starting to wink awake.
Normally, when the weather behaved, sunset would cast the entire dining room in deep oranges and reds, or blue midday skies and blue water would stretch from one side of the room to the other. It would be simply mesmerizing.
Easily the best view by far, either a perfect stopover for date night or a lunch pitstop.
I skipped the wait and anchored to a simple bar top, curved like a boat, modest with only about a dozen seats. There were local beers on tap, wine in the back, and across the top a festive string of… shotgun shells? Yes, a softly glowing string of lights shining through spent shotgun casings draped around the bar.
I was greeted first by Jensen with a smile before she hurried off to make a drink, while AJ was working his way through the stack of tickets for the service well. They had hurriedly introduced themselves, but I had arrived at the tail end of the rush, and they were buzzing along catching up. Servers popped in and out of the service well, stacking drinks on trays before flying away.
Before long AJ had set a black linen in front of me, Jensen had suggested and poured my beer, and I was settled in.
The couple that sat to my left were regulars, quaffing a glass of wine before their window-side table came open. To the right, a duo who were relocating to the area from Chicago and would soon probably be regulars themselves. When those left, another two folks sat down at the bar, also regulars, also basically family.
According to AJ, this was a thing.
“This is the only stop between Mobile and the beaches. Everyone comes here”
The season had just ended, giving two or three brief weeks where the staff could breathe. During the peak times, this place was a destination.
But now, the surf had calmed and just the locals persisted.
This is the best time to come to the Fish Camp, during **the quiet few months at the end of summer when August bleeds into September and school is back in session. Before the college kids start venturing out again once they’ve settled into their school routines. Before the snowbirds migrate back south to escape the colder weather.
I realized I still hadn’t decided what to eat.
An Ocean of Choices
The double-sided, one-page menu had something for everyone.
Yeah, I went all cliche. But it is true. In the mood for fried seafood? They have it all in spades. Feeling fish tacos or ahi tuna? It’s here. Just nibbling greens? Salads galore.
From steaks and chops to the fresh catch, the options are endless. Felix’s Fish Camp, unapologetically fishy, hits every note for just about every diner.
There was a lot to take in, but I knew where I was starting.
To be honest, I only came for oysters, but I was just going to try them. The rest of my multi-course feast was just a happy accident that resulted in a heavy doggie bag for the ride home.
What To Eat at Felix’s Fish Camp
I know why you’re here.
It’s not for all this great exposition. Nay, it’s for the food. Let’s dive in. Here’s what I ordered, with some suggestions along the way.
FRESH GULF COAST OYSTERS
Oysters were the sole reason I searched for a place between the middle of nowhere and the Port of Mobile. So, without hesitation when Jensen asked what I wanted, I ordered a beer and half a dozen of the raw boys.
They arrived frills-less, just the way I like them. Generous ice on a large tin plate, some cocktail and raw horseradish, and a lemon wedge. Nearby a small helping of mignonette.
Oysters take on the flavor of the waters they filter. Like wine’s terroir, oysters have a marine terroir…a merroir. This means that oysters of the world will taste different based on the temperature, region, and waters they grew up in.
On the West Coast, the colder waters make for softer, creamier shellfish, while on the East Coast are generally smaller and brinier with bold flavors.
Gulf oysters, like their East Coast brethren, are heavier on the brine than the creaminess, and midsized. Perfect honestly, for my pallet at least.
And my wallet. The baker’s half dozen were only $14 at the time of this writing.
ONE-ONE-ONE
Felix’s sells just three soups.
You can get a cup or a bowl of any of them, or you can go home with a pint, a quart, or a gallon. And for someone like me, who has crippling food FOMO, you order the One-One-One.
The One-One-One is a sampler of Felix’s soups, three small cups with just a few bites, but enough to satisfy the curiosity of which soup slaps hardest.
First is their signature Crab Soup, which is a savory, creamy chowder-like soup stuffed full of lump crab meat. Its hearty. It warms your gills without weighing you down. Mine had a slight burnt finish to it and the diner a couple of stools down sent hers back for the same reason. Soon, a fresh bowl came out and righted any wrongs. A solid choice.
Next, the Seafood Gumbo. It was solid but not earth shattering. Topped with a portion of rice and paired lovingly with a Louisiana hot sauce, the gumbo had a sneaky bite of heat at the end of each bite which ticked my boxes. I wouldn’t come to Felix’s just for this, but as part of a trio it hits the mark.
Finally, Dr. Skipper’s Turtle Soup. Perfectly fine for the squeamish, the turtle soup is a deep flavor bomb of goodness that scratched an itch I didn’t even know I had. The turtle, farm raised Louisiana snapper, was similar in texture to clam, but the flavor blew anything else out of the water.
This is the one I’d order by the gallon.
CRAWFISH SMOTHERED PORK CHOPS & GRITS
On this visit to Felix’s Fish House, I opted not to eat fish.
I knew that would be good. My neighbors beside me at the bar ordered fish and it looked good. If you came for fish, do it. Order it and go wild. It will be good, and you won’t be disappointed. However, I wanted something different.
Instead, I chose pork.
The Crawfish Smothered Pork Chops was a giant dish with enough food to share. On top of a generous bed of Felix’s famous grits were four thin bone-in pork chops, darkened by proper grill marks, and surrounded by a meaty crawfish cream sauce.
It was a one-two punch of flavor and texture. The creole bite of the sauce, with tons of meaty crawfish in every bite, not only heightened the grits, it also made them enjoyable. That coming from a southern boy who abhors grits must mean something. The grits themselves were terrific. Not grainy, not bland. Even without the sauce, they could carry the dish.
On the side I went for the greens and hushpuppies, keeping with a Southern theme to round out the meal.
The greens were perfection and the hushpuppies were fine. Any side vegetable with a giant chunk of ham and a savoriness that screams “I’m Southern food” gets a win. Hushpups, while a little spicy with the jalapeno kicker, can be skipped.
When I go back, I will the fish. Maybe even the steak. Or the notorious Crab Stack – a crab cake topped on a fried green tomato, stacked with lump crab meat and a soft shell, then drizzled with a tasty hollandaise sauce.
Because why not go hard?
A Staff As Quality As The Grub
The excellence of the staff matched the quality of the food.
It’s hard to explain, but the crew probably made a lot of money working at Felix’s Fish Camp. It’s the way they move. With purpose.
They smile, they engage, they joke but more importantly, they work hard. Tables are bussed, drinks run, a buzz of activity that makes it obvious. They liked working there.
The food runners were especially impressive.
“Are you familiar with our soups?” I was asked. Nope, had no idea at the time. But instead of leaving me to guess, the runner set them in front of me, one by one, explaining what it was, how to eat it, and the sauce to pair with it. Same with the pork chops, and all of the plates that were delivered to my neighbors.
This attention to service was everywhere I looked. Every server who dropped a plate, or group of servers setting down the plates in unison for a large group, was done with care. They lingered, if needed, but always went on with a smile. Everyone did their job, excitedly, and seemed to have fun doing it.
It added to the experience, an undertone of awesome.
Felix’s Fish Camp is one of those spots that at first glance looks like a tourist trap. And it is, during certain times of the year. But rarely does a tourist trap that looks like a house built from flotsam and jetsam come through. This one does.
The food is delicious, the prices are respectable, and the vibe is welcoming.
Felix’s Fish Camp is open six days a week from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. and closed on Sundays. Check out their website for updated specials and their music lineup, which happens nearly every single day.
Eric Gibson is a rabid fan of barbecue, burgers, ramen, and hot chicken. When not eating or playing with his beautiful daughter Aria, he tries to write and edit for Brewhoppin and Vittles&Nosh.
