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A chef appears at your table holding a plate of lamb stacked with Japanese blood sausage, describing it quickly while you try to decide whether you’re brave enough. You have seconds. If you say no, it’s gone.
That’s dinner at Gunshow.
For years, I’d heard it was impossible to get a reservation. Turns out, it’s still not instant — and after finally going, I understand why.
The drive from Peachtree City to Atlanta’s Glenwood Park took about an hour and 15 minutes — reverse against rush hour, thankfully. We were early, which is rare for me. Credit goes to my excellent companions: my favorite husband Matt, and new friends Christine and Bob, who are fellow foodies.
The TL;DR: Gunshow is not dinner. It is an experience.
Here’s how it works: Over the next two hours, chefs walk dishes through the dining room, stopping at each table to describe what they’ve made. You listen. You decide. You either say yes or no. They only come once.
It is part tasting menu, part performance art, part high-stakes food roulette.
If you’ve ever eaten dim sum, it feels familiar — but instead of dumplings and har gow, you’re deciding whether to commit to Choate lamb, bluefin tuna with beef tendon, or chicken liver with Georgia green strawberry. It’s farm-to-table meets Top Chef theater.
And because each dish only passes by once, there’s a subtle panic that sets in.
Buy now, or you may never see it again.
That urgency? That’s how four reasonable adults wound up with a $600 tab, including tip — and only one person drinking beer.
The Industrial Stage
Gunshow doesn’t scream elegance. It’s concrete floors, an open kitchen, shared cafeteria-style tables. Our friend Bob had read that this design is intentional — stripping away visual distraction so the focus remains entirely on the food.
It works. You watch the chefs move. You hear the sizzle. You study each plate as it approaches like it might choose you.
Plates are designed to be shared by two. Because there were four of us, they brought two portions at a time. Some dishes we doubled up on. A few, we each wanted our own.
That’s the danger.
The Surprises That Won
If I had known the lamb included Japanese blood sausage, I might have passed.
It was the best bite of the night.
The lamb and blood sausage were stacked together, flavors melding, and you wondered what texture your next bite would be — tender, firm, savory. The richness was deep without being overwhelming, anchored by an impossibly delicious gravy. It was the kind of dish that makes you question your own culinary prejudices.
The chicken liver dish was another ambush. Officially listed as Chicken Liver, GA Green Strawberry, Pine, the pate arrived over a crunchy polenta with a bright strawberry component that tasted almost like jam.
I despise liver.
This did not taste like liver.
It tasted creamy and rich and layered. No metallic tang. No organ-meat heaviness. Just balance. It was one of those dishes where, had you not been told, you would never have guessed.
The golden beet dish — with turmeric and fig leaf — delivered the fried garlic crunch, layering sweet earthiness with sharp, savory pops. That plate had dimension.
That’s Gunshow at its best: It tricks you into loving something you thought you hated.
The $45 Egg
Then there was the Arrivato Siberian Caviar with 5N Pastures egg and chèvre — a $45 plate.
It was, as Christine put it, “a super, super bougie egg dish.” A perfectly cooked omelet with goat cheese oozing from the center, crowned with caviar and served alongside thick rye toast.
It was delicious.
It was elegant.
It was not, in our collective opinion, worth $45.
“The satisfaction-to-price ratio isn’t good,” Christine said plainly.
Sometimes an experience is just that — an experience. You’re glad you tried it. You won’t order it again.
The Misses (For Me)
I am not a big fish person. Even though I generally enjoy crab and shrimp, both leaned too fish-forward for my taste.
The marshland shrimp, though, came with a twist: noodles made from the shrimp itself. Shrimp ramen. Strange? Yes. Technically impressive? Also yes.
The Dungeness crab tasted unmistakably fresh to my companions — clearly just out of the shell — but if you’re sensitive to briny seafood notes, it may not be your favorite. It wasn’t mine.
Dessert and the Verdict
The warm Old Fashioned Banana Pudding is a permanent menu fixture for a reason. Bananas are fried like plantains. The custard is lush and deeply comforting. The meringue has structure without heaviness.
Three of the four of us declared it our favorite dessert of the night.
It managed to feel nostalgic and refined at the same time — familiar Southern comfort elevated just enough to belong in a restaurant built on reinvention. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t need to be. It simply worked.
Christine still leaned toward the pecan l’ambroisie with crème fraîche and ice cream — a lighter reinterpretation of pecan pie that felt more composed and less sugary than its traditional cousin.
Both were strong finishes. But the banana pudding quietly won the table.
So… Is It Worth It?
If you are a meat-and-potatoes diner, Gunshow is not for you.
If you want large portions and a still excellent dining experience, you’ll get more for less at Enzo or Rumi’s Kitchen—neither of which are cheap. For culinary adventure at a friendlier price point, still not inexpensive, order Lebanese-style at The BeiRut and share the table.
But if you have:
- A sense of adventure
- Disposable income
- The ability to drive into Atlanta
- Decisiveness as a personality trait
- An appetite for culinary theater
Gunshow delivers something rare.
It is one of the most expensive meals I’ve had.
It is also one of the most interesting.
The pace is fast. The decisions are immediate. The flavors are bold. You won’t love everything. But you will talk about it for weeks afterward.
When you must have something new and different — you can make that reservation.
Gunshow is located in Atlanta’s Glenwood Park neighborhood at 924 Garrett St. SE. Reservations are strongly recommended, practically required, and can be made at gunshowatl.com.
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