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It's not The Gulch and it's not 12 South—it's somewhere in the middle. But something makes us think the gritty stretch of 12th Avenue South between the two emerging districts just might demand its own moniker soon. That "something" is At the Table, a no-nonsense meat-and-three that we liked so much we've been recommending it to anyone who'll listen. When they ask us what to order there, we tell them fried fish. When they ask where it is, we say it's on "North 12 South." We're hoping the name will stick.

Owner Robert Hudson launched his cheery lunchroom this spring, hanging a simple banner across the windowed facade of a former market. A fresh coat of yellow paint, a handful of tables and booths and a steam table make up the decor of his spare eatery, where natural sunlight sets the ambiance and the focus is squarely on the food.

On our first visit, we went straight for the fried fish, which is deep-fried to order and takes 10 minutes. Mary Frances Crenshaw called our order back to Robert's uncle, Richard Hudson, at the fryer. In the meantime, we tucked into a panoply of meats and vegetables—yellow creamed corn, green beans and brown fried apples, among other delectable Southern staples—that filled the pans of the buffet like so many watercolors in a paint tray.

A handful of entrées rotates daily. Fried chicken is available Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and Friday is literally "fry day," when pork chops, chicken and fish (along with ribs) are all on the table. On Saturday, the staff preps five hours for Sunday dinner, featuring the likes of turkey and dressing, fried chicken, baked chicken, baked ham, oxtails, mac-and-cheese and sweet potatoes.

On one visit, the meat loaf set an impressive tone with a hearty texture of ground Angus beef rather than mushy breading. Studded with diced green pepper and dressed sparingly with tangy tomato sauce, the meaty meal recalled a stuffed pepper—or as one diner at our table put it, "an inverted pepper."

A generous serving of two lightly dredged and pan-fried pork chops was extremely dry with no sauce. But the salty meat was flavorful and ungreasy, and our group conceded that the thin, chewy chops reminded us of home-cooked dinners from days gone by. On the other hand, any happy nostalgia for Salisbury steak was smothered by a gelatinous brown gravy dotted with floury lumps, and the tender but gray beef tips lacked flavor and salt.

If we could generalize about At the Table's vegetables compared to the blue-plate fare at so many other meat-and-threes, we would say that they were less cooked—or more precisely, less overcooked—and retained a greater similarity to the fresh produce from which they came. Hudson & Co. take pride in the fact that they use all fresh veggies from the Farmers' Market, with few exceptions.

Flat green beans laced with strings of ham were actually—wait for it—green, and the slightly firm texture suggested they had been cooking for a couple of hours rather than days, though the smoky hint of ham and a subtle kick of hot sauce had plenty of time to settle in.

Large stalks of broccoli had been cooked to a soft texture, but their natural color still peeked through the creamy blend of Velveeta, cheddar, milk and butter.

Wilted tangles of stewed collard greens could have used a dash of vinegar or a hint of red sauce, to which end there were bottles of Louisiana hot sauce on the tables.

Among the highlights of the vegetables were the mashed potatoes, which were chunky and glistening with yellow margarine. No doubt these were made better by the fact that we had seen Crenshaw prepping them, peeling, slicing and soaking the Idaho spuds in a bath of water and lemon juice to keep them from browning.

We unanimously endorsed the Jonathan apples that were roasted with cinnamon and butter until the edges were faintly crisp and brown, but we gave mixed reviews to the squash casserole. Baked with a thick sauce of Velveeta, cheddar, milk and butter, the squash did not reach the pudding consistency that some of us wanted. For others, though, the light ratio of sauce to squash made us feel a little healthier about the whole dining experience, especially in light of the apples—which, let's face it, were only a pie crust away from being a dessert.

On the subject of creamed corn, we might have come to fisticuffs, had anyone set down a fork or a plump, chewy hot-water corn cake long enough to take the first shot. Half the table thought it tasted like canned or frozen creamed corn, while half of us were certain it was fresh off the cob. We were all correct. Richard Hudson mixes fresh-off-the-cob and frozen creamed corn in the skillet with sugar, flour and bacon grease. The end result is a creamy, smoky sauce riddled with plump yellow kernels and tinged with the sugary burn of caramel corn.

Just about the time we were thinking about loosening our belts, the fried fish arrived. Three planks of cornmeal-dusted whiting offered a perfect contrast of nubbly crisp coating and sweet flaky insides. The piping-hot pile of fish made its way around the booth, eliciting oohs and aahs and speculation that it just might be the best fried fish in town. That was high praise indeed from one member of our group, who was sporting a T-shirt from Eastside Fish, the self-purported "crunkest" fish sandwich in town. (Though for now, it's impossible to compare sandwich to sandwich, because At the Table doesn't serve white bread and pickles with its fish.)