If you think catfish is just another fried plate, The Mayflower Café is ready to change your mind. Since 1935, this Jackson landmark has quietly turned skeptics into believers with Greek-inspired seafood, steaks, and Southern hospitality. Step into the retro dining room on West Capitol Street and you feel time slow down while flavors turn up. Grab a seat, listen to the clink of plates, and let one bite do the convincing.
Golden Fried Catfish Platter
The catfish arrives golden and whisper-crisp, a promise kept from the first crackle of batter. Flaky flesh steams beneath, clean and sweet, needing only a squeeze of lemon and a dab of tartar. You taste tradition rendered with confidence, never greasy, always balanced.
Hushpuppies sit alongside like loyal friends, corn-sweet and pepper-kissed, while creamy coleslaw cools the edges. Each bite reminds you why the Mayflower has endured since 1935. You do not rush the plate, because the pacing feels like hospitality.
Even skeptics soften here, hearing forks click and talk loosen. The dining room hums, retro and reassuring, like a postcard. You leave the last piece for savoring, then change your mind.
Greek Broiled Redfish With Comeback
Redfish gets the Greek treatment here, broiled until the edges char and the center stays silky. Oregano, garlic, and lemon team up, then the house comeback sauce drizzles in with a creamy spark. It is coastal Mississippi meeting Greek roots, bright and soulful.
You cut into the fillet and watch juices shine, catching parsley and pepper. The sauce never shouts, it nods, letting the fish lead. A side of broiled tomatoes and buttered potatoes rounds the story gently.
By the last bite, skeptics understand balance. Nothing is heavy, yet nothing feels shy. You bookmark the flavor in memory, like a favorite line, ready to quote again.
Shrimp Remoulade Starter
Chilled Gulf shrimp curl into a glass dish, dressed in a tangy remoulade that hums with mustard and spice. The sauce coats without smothering, letting sweet brine and snap speak clearly. You spoon up more than you meant to, surprised by how light it feels.
Paprika dusts the top like a wink, while lemon brings a bright handshake. The retro room leans in, all mirrors and mellow glow. This is an opener that behaves like a promise kept.
Skeptics who fear heaviness meet elegance instead. It is classic Jackson, polished by time. By the last shrimp, you understand restraint as flavor.
Oysters on the Half Shell
On crushed ice, the oysters shine like small secrets, briny and cold. You lift one, feel the shell’s rough lip, then tip back the sea. A lemon flick and a whisper of cocktail sauce add lift without drowning nuance.
They taste of Gulf breezes and clean tide, simple and perfect. The server nods, like this happens daily, because it does. You chase with a cracker and smile at the chill.
Even catfish devotees pause for these. The Mayflower keeps them honest, fresh, and unfussed. You realize skepticism has no place when the ocean speaks clearly.
The Famous Comeback Sauce
Comeback sauce is the restaurant’s handshake, creamy, peppery, and a little mysterious. You dip catfish, crackers, anything within reach, and it just works. It is not heat for heat’s sake, more a friendly nudge toward brightness.
People drive downtown for this jar alone, swearing by its balance. Tomato, mayo, and spice swirl into something bigger than the parts. You keep discovering new pairings, then laugh at yourself for trying everything.
In Jackson, comeback is culture as much as condiment. At Mayflower, it is the welcome mat. Skeptics usually leave with a container, converted by flavor.
Greek Salad With Feta
Between seafood courses, the Greek salad arrives crisp and unfussy. Tomatoes, cucumber, olives, and feta meet oregano and good olive oil. It eats like a pause button, resetting your palate without stealing the show.
The feta is briny and firm, not the crumble of afterthoughts. Red onion brings a clean snap, and the dressing whispers lemon. You taste the cafe’s Greek roots in every forkful.
Pair it with broiled fish or fried catfish to refresh between bites. The colors pop against vintage plates, pleasing the eye first. By the end, you feel lighter and ready for another round.
Seafood Gumbo Cup
The gumbo’s dark roux announces itself before the spoon reaches your lips. Shrimp and crab float in a broth that tastes like patience and stories. A small mound of rice helps anchor the richness without dimming flavor.
It is not flashy, just confidently seasoned, warm from pepper and bay. You taste smoke, seafood sweetness, and a long simmer. Each sip brings you closer to the kitchen’s quiet rhythm.
Order the cup if you plan a feast, the bowl if you want company. Either way, it comforts skeptics with steady cadence. You set it down, already missing it.
Broiled Snapper With Lemon Butter
Snapper hits the broiler and emerges with shimmering flakes and faint char. Lemon butter slides over the top, pooling where the fillet curves. The aroma alone makes you lean in, fork ready, conversation fading.
It is rich but not heavy, because the kitchen balances fat with acid. A squeeze of lemon wakes everything like morning light. You catch tiny crisp edges that taste like the grill’s memory.
Pair with salad or fries, depending on your mood. Either way, the plate disappears quicker than planned. You glance up surprised, then claim you were just tasting.
Fried Shrimp Basket
Gulf shrimp wear light batter like a tailored jacket, crunchy without heaviness. Each bite pops, sweet and clean, asking only for a lemon kiss. Fries ride shotgun, golden and salted just right.
You dip in comeback or cocktail, depending on the form of your mood. Either way, the basket proves reliable and cheerful. Kids and purists agree for once, which feels like a small miracle.
In a room this classic, a basket becomes a memory maker. You share, then stop sharing, because it is too good. The plate says simple, the flavor says careful craftsmanship.
Catfish Po-boy On French Bread
This po-boy crunches first, thanks to crusty French bread that means business. Inside, catfish fillets layer with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and comeback. You get heat, tang, crisp, and soft in a rhythm that feels right.
Every bite holds together, which matters more than people admit. The fish stays flaky, never lost in bread. It travels well, though sitting in the retro dining room feels proper.
Order with a side of slaw to refresh between bites. The sandwich turns skeptics into regulars quickly. By the last crumbs, you are planning the next visit.
Grilled Ribeye With Greek Herbs
Seafood may headline, but the ribeye sneaks applause with a deep sear. Greek herbs melt into the steak, sending rosemary and oregano upward. You slice and meet rosy tenderness bordered by satisfying char.
Butter pools into the grain, carrying garlic and lemon zest softly. The steak tastes like confidence honed over decades. You alternate bites with a baked potato and grin at the rhythm.
For skeptics who swung by for fish, this converts equally well. It proves the kitchen’s range without showboating. You leave a trimmed bone and a satisfied silence.
Crabmeat Cocktail
Sweet lumps of crabmeat arrive chilled, almost bare, like a quiet boast. A light dressing whispers citrus and spice, never hiding the sea. You fork gently so every piece stays intact.
It is the opposite of heavy, the definition of restraint. The retro glassware makes it feel like an occasion. You sip water, pause, and appreciate how freshness carries the day.
This is where skeptics learn less can be more. Pair it before broiled fish or after oysters. The finish is clean, and your appetite feels refreshed.
Hushpuppies And Honey Butter
Hushpuppies arrive hot enough to make patience difficult. The crust shatters, revealing moist corn batter with onion’s whisper. Honey butter melts into the crumb and turns simple into something gleeful.
You meant to share, but counting becomes optional. The sweetness does not drown the savory, it frames it. A dash of pepper keeps the hushpuppies firmly in the dinner lane.
They pair with catfish like old partners, familiar and reliable. The basket empties faster than your table realizes. Someone orders another round, and nobody objects.
Lunchtime Blue Plate Special
On weekdays, the blue plate special draws downtown regulars like a bell. You get a meat and sides, dependable and priced for repeat visits. The plate changes with the day, but comfort stays constant.
Mac and cheese leans creamy, greens carry gentle smoke, and rolls shine. Service stays quick without feeling rushed, which lunchtime requires. You finish fed and unburdened, exactly as intended.
It proves that tradition and value can still meet in the middle. Skeptics appreciate the straightforward delivery. You check the clock, then decide you can linger a little longer.
Southern Pecan Pie Slice
The pecan pie wears a glassy top that cracks under the fork. Inside waits a custardy center, toasted nuts, and buttery echoes. A scoop of vanilla melts into rivulets and ties everything together.
It is rich, but not cloying, thanks to a smart pinch of salt. You taste patience and a practiced hand. Every bite ends with caramel edges and a happy sigh.
Catfish might have brought you in, but dessert keeps you seated. The slice tastes like Mississippi hospitality on a plate. You plan coffee, then decide you are already perfectly content.
Retro Dining Room Vibes
The room tells the story before the menu arrives. Retro booths, framed photos, and warm wood create a lived-in glow. You hear ice clink, conversations braid, and everything slows pleasantly.
It feels like a place that remembers your order even if you are new. The staff moves with calm, practiced steps born of decades. Lighting stays low enough to relax, bright enough for menus.
Skeptics often relax here first, then trust the plates. The space is comfort without fuss, classic without kitsch. You sit a little straighter, feeling part of the lineage.
Insider Tips And Hours
Plan dinner after 4:30 PM on Saturday, or lunch Tuesday through Friday. Sunday and Monday stay quiet, so align cravings accordingly. Call +1 601-355-4122 if a detail matters before you drive.
The address is 123 W Capitol St, Jackson, MS 39201. Parking nearby is manageable, especially for lunch. Prices land in the friendly $$ zone, which helps repeat visits.
Check the website for updates and seasonal specials. A quick glance at reviews shows steady 4.2 star praise. You will appreciate punctual arrivals, because this classic gets busy.
A Brief History Since 1935
Opened in 1935, the Mayflower has watched Jackson change and kept cooking. Greek roots shaped a menu where seafood meets Mediterranean whispers. The result is a steady voice that never chases trends.
Walls carry decades of stories, from first dates to business deals. Staff pass that legacy on with calm confidence. You taste it in broiled fish, in comeback sauce, in hushpuppies.
Longevity here is not luck, it is repetition done right. Skeptics become regulars, and regulars bring friends. The restaurant remains a landmark because it earns the title daily.