Step into a time machine of fried fish and hushpuppies!
Twin Tops Fish Camp in Gastonia, North Carolina has been doing Friday night supper the same way since the 1960s. No frills. No shortcuts. Just golden, crispy seafood, mountains of sides, and a crowd that spills out the door.
Walking in feels like visiting your grandparents’ kitchen, but with the smell of sizzling catfish and flounder in the air. Families, longtime locals, and curious travelers all squeeze into the cozy dining room, swapping stories over plates piled high.
With friendly service, a casual vibe, and a menu that hasn’t wavered in decades, Twin Tops isn’t just a meal—it’s a ritual. One bite, and you’re hooked for life.
The Friday Night Ritual
Friday nights at Twin Tops feel comfortably inevitable, like the week ticking into the weekend with a sizzle from the fryers. You pull in at 4 PM sharp and the line already snakes past the door, a chorus of order numbers and yes ma’ams in the air.
The place promises deep fried comfort and delivers it without fuss, just as locals remember.
Menus are familiar and short, heavy with flounder, shrimp, and salt and pepper catfish that crackles when you tap it. The aroma of hot oil and sweet oniony hush puppies wraps around you while the ticket printers chatter.
You watch veteran hands packing plates with practiced speed, stacking clamshells like a Friday night skyline.
There is no dining room magic, just the magic of reliable food and neighbors nodding hello. Some say quality has shifted, others swear it is perfect, yet the ritual itself steadies everyone.
You leave with a hot bag on your lap, radio low, and that bright promise of first-bite heat.
Calabash Style Flounder
Order the flounder and the box lands heavy, promising that thin, crackly crust locals call perfection. The batter is whisper light, the fillet broad and flaky, and the first bite sends a salty snap across your tongue.
A dip in house made tartar sauce tightens the flavors with tang and dill.
Calabash style lives or dies by timing, and the best batches hit that sweet spot between shatter and tenderness. Some reviewers swear it used to be thicker, others celebrate the same old crunch.
Either way, squeeze a lemon and listen for the quiet crunch that means you chose well.
Pair it with slaw for a cool, sweet counterpoint, or a baked potato if you want the old school route. Flounder here tastes like beach weekends and family stories retold in the car.
Finish the last edge piece first, before it softens, because that is where the golden magic hides.
Salt and Pepper Catfish
Salt and pepper catfish is a local favorite with a loyal following that borders on protective. The seasoning rides the surface in peppery freckles, while the meat stays moist and mild beneath the crunch.
You taste heat, salt, and a whisper of cornmeal that feels almost buttery.
On the best nights, each fillet bends slightly but never sags, sturdy enough for dipping without breaking. Some regulars say the spice is lighter now, others like the restraint because the fish sings.
Either way, that tartar sauce ties everything together like a Friday night handshake.
Stack pieces over fries to catch the drippings and let hush puppies handle the sweet counterpunch. If you grew up with fish camps, this bite can time travel you straight back.
Eat it hot in the car, windows cracked, pepper blooming in the warm North Carolina night.
All You Can Eat Nights, Then and Now
Older regulars still tell stories about all you can eat crab legs and those legendary stacked platters. The vibe was playful and a little competitive, napkins tucked in, butter cups lined like trophies.
Today, specials ebb and flow, but the memory fuels the line anyway.
What remains is the spirit of abundance, visible in big combo plates and oversized family packs. Portions can feel outrageous, then mysteriously disappear as conversation takes over.
Even with takeout only, boxes arrive brimming, corners taped to hold the promise in.
You might miss dining room chatter, yet the parking lot hum has become its own ritual. Families pass hush puppies across car seats, laugh, and map out seconds.
It is less about unlimited refills and more about reliably full hands on a Friday night.
The Salad Bar Memory
Ask longtime fans and they will sigh happily about the salad bar, crisp and simple and proudly old school. Shredded cheese, diced tomatoes, crunchy cucumbers, and that cold plate that steadied your appetite.
It set a pace, reminding you to slow down before the fried parade arrived.
Reviews still brag on how fresh it used to be, everything bite sized instead of clunky. Even if you grab to go now, that memory hangs in the doorway like a friendly bell.
It is the prelude many miss, the green counterbalance that made room for more.
Some nights you taste that balance by pairing slaw and a baked potato instead. The spirit is the same, a nod toward crisp and cool before the heat lands.
If you ever ladled ranch there, you carry that flavor map forever.
Combo Plates Built For Sharing
The combo plate is the grand tour, a piled high sampler that tests your loyalty to favorites. Shrimp crowd the corners, flounder fans across the middle, and oysters huddle in the heat.
Hush puppies wedge into gaps like edible packing peanuts, keeping everything snug and hot.
Portions have always been a conversation here, sometimes called huge, sometimes called just right. On a good night, one platter can feed two without a fight, especially with slaw and a potato.
The trick is to start with delicate bites first, saving the thick cuts for last.
There will be mixed reviews, but the plate’s promise is abundance and variety. When the lid closes, flavors mingle into that signature fish camp aroma.
Open it at home or in the car and let the steam fog your glasses a second.
Takeout Flow and Timing
Since 2020, takeout has been the heartbeat, so timing matters as much as taste. Call ahead, arrive a few minutes early, and check your order while it is still within reach.
Hot fries ride a narrow window, and shrimp shines brightest seconds out of the fryer.
Most nights, staff move fast, taping boxes and double bagging like seasoned pros. You will hear both praise and grumbles in reviews, a reminder to speak up kindly if something is off.
The team often makes it right, especially when you are clear and gracious.
Park where you can pull out safely with one hand on that precious sack. Crack the lid for steam to escape, guarding against sogginess on the drive.
Then turn on a favorite song and let the first bite mark weekend’s official start.
Why It Still Matters
Twin Tops matters because it anchors a simple promise in a fast changing world. You show up hungry, you leave with fried seafood that tastes like memory.
Even imperfect nights cannot erase decades of Friday rituals and backseat feasts.
The place carries stories in every basket, from first dates to little league wins to quiet drives home. Reviews clash, yet the steady hum of regulars says there is still something here worth keeping.
Tradition becomes a flavor, and you can taste it in pepper, cornmeal, and lemon.
If you go, bring patience, a cooler for leftovers, and an open mind. Order what you love and let the rest be background noise on the breeze.
In the glow of that parking lot, you will understand why this fish camp refuses to fade.
Plan Your Visit
Twin Tops Fish Camp in Gastonia, North Carolina has been serving up Friday night supper just like it did in the 1960s.
This family-owned spot is famous for hearty portions of fried flounder, catfish, shrimp, and classic sides like hushpuppies and an all-you-can-eat salad, all in a casual, welcoming atmosphere that keeps locals coming back year after year.
You’ll find Twin Tops at 4574 South New Hope Road, with plenty of parking in its private lot.
The camp is open Thursday from 4 to 8 PM, Friday from 4 to 9 PM, and Saturday from 3 to 9 PM, offering both dine-in and take-out.
Friendly, down-to-earth service makes every visit feel like a homecoming, keeping the tradition alive for decades.