A proper Southern restaurant in the South End

Full and noisy, but not unpleasantly so, on a chilly Saturday in February. A yellow rooster sign welcomes guests as they enter what looks like a high-beamed farmhouse — and so does a blast of music. If you’re a classic rock fan, you have found Valhalla: munch hushpuppies and tear apart fried chicken to the tunes of Steely Dan and Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Antique lamps and plants dangle from the ceiling, and ornate dishes are mounted on the pine walls. While this approach could call to mind grandma’s attic in a more claustrophobic setting, the space is big enough that it’s just an eccentric design quirk, stuff to stare at while waiting for rye. A healthy cross-section of the South End is here: young dudes on a date, a happy toddler on someone’s lap munching a biscuit, a swarm of ex-pat thirty-somethings in from the suburbs, marveling over their ace parking space.