This Georgia Soul Food Kitchen Inspired a Legendary Album

YOU’LL SPOT THE BRIGHT COLOR FIRST—a brilliant shade like a blanched green bean. And then, a whiff of fried chicken hits.

This is Weaver D’s, a soul food restaurant open in Athens, Georgia, since 1986, etched in food/music canon. The Athens band R.E.M. named their 1992 record Automatic for the People after owner Dexter Weaver’s catchphrase. “Automatic,” he’d say, handing customers a styrofoam plate of meat-and-three lunch. Michael Stipe and bandmates took Weaver along to the Grammys soon after. They didn’t win Album of the Year, but Weaver quotes Whitney Houston, who beat them in the category, when he talks about the excitement of that evening: “Give me one moment in time,” he says.

Another catchphrase? “It’s on the highway,” he’ll say, about a batch of fried corn still in the pan. If customers held up the line, pondering their orders, he’d urge them on with another phrase: “Communication,” he’d say. Though you can’t blame a person’s bewilderment at the riches coming from the tiny, partly open, kitchen.

As he greets guests, Weaver ticks through the day’s menu like an auctioneer—but with a buttered and sugared sort of drawl that booms with bass, as if emanating from the depths of a large stock pot. “I have collard greens. I have rutabagas. Buttered potatoes, fried corn...”

Crisp curls of chicken skin, flecked in seasoning, hold in the juice. Corn muffins act as side scoops, their exterior caramelized to a golden hue with tender insides ready to soak up potlikker. The greens, sharpened with vinegar, cut through the richness of mac and cheese and sweet potato soufflé, part earthy and part dessert.

Meanwhile, Weaver is on a first-name basis with regulars, including the ladies who come every Wednesday after Bible study. “Frances, you taking chops to go?” he says. “Sure you don’t want lima beans?”

Weaver is 71. Never bothered, never rattled, he floats like a pro from peeling potatoes and dropping pork chops into a fryer to running credit cards, answering the phone and slicing hunks of red velvet and strawberry cake. It’s a busy season, with University of Georgia football games. As we close out the year, Weaver D’s represents a special sort of mom-and-pop, places tucked into every corner of our country. Here today, potentially gone tomorrow.

Indeed, Weaver D’s almost closed around 2012 until locals rallied. These days he keeps a sign posted near the kitchen: “CELEBRATING 39 YEARS Since 1986. HELP ME MAKE 40 YEARS OF SERVICE.”

As for what happens after the milestone, he’s taking it day by day. He’s looking, for now, to Thanksgiving for his fourth annual lunch for the homeless. It’s advertised on the wall beside a first aid poster, R.E.M. album art and a framed photo of Weaver with his mother.

“If I cannot do great things,” the ad reads, “I can do small things in a great way.”