Aesthetically, Odd Duck is an idealized version of all things Southern: friendliness, homey-ness, vintage-y decorations that definitely aren't actually vintage. The food takes that Southern foundation and combines it with ethnic influences. The result feels like a postcard from a modern, hip, worldlier version of the South.
One of the many 512 food trailer success stories, Odd Duck’s brick and mortar (occupying the same piece of property) is log-jammed into an appalling apartment complex, which is strange for a restaurant with so much personality on the inside. The environment was clearly designed for The Civil Wars-listening, rye-sipping culture that is so prevalent throughout this town, and the bar is packed with strange fruits and herbal ammunition to craft over-the-top cocktails, all priced in the double digit range. Though the overall experience is kind of predictable, the food is too tasty and creative to hate. Come for a date, for drinks, or for lunch with mom for a chiller atmosphere.
If there was an honest complaint about Odd Duck the restaurant, it would be the portion-to-price ratio. Despite the quality of food offered, we’d love to see more of it for how much you’re shelling out. Note: park on the street below Gibson Lounge and skip the clusterf*ck of an undersized parking lot. Double note: their happy hour lasts Monday through Thursday, and half of their entrees are offered at half-price.
Accompanied by shrimp and avocado salad and popcorn. Why not?
Comes with a confit leg, cauliflower, and topped with satsuma sweet and sour sauce. If you’re a duck fan, this one’s for you.
They deconstruct a reuben sandwich and place it on a pizza, complete with scamorza, sauerkraut, and freaking lamb sausage. Can I get an “oy vey”?