Beacon Hill Shell Station

This place is top notch. They have the nicest, most friendly cashiers of any convience store I have ever been to. And boy let me tell you about that manager. Drew seems to have a solution for any problem I have ever told him about and he knows the seattle area like the back of his hand! Their catfish is out of this world and always fresh. The red bull signs out front really caught my eye, dont think I have seen those signs anywhere else. This store is a must stop while on beacon hill. To the friendly egyptians behind the counter… allah mahaba! Make sure to stop by and tell Drew and the others hello.

Seattle’s best kept secret! I’m telling you their unbelievable fried catfish can go toe to toe with any I’ve had while living down south for several years. Reminds me of Memphis. Way better than my old go to spot Catfish Corner. The spicy chicken would be a close second.
Always super friendly service. The manger Drew always gives love to the vets who come in. since the main Seattle Veterans Hospital is just right down the street. I only wish my local Shell had that delicious catfish and chicken. Worth the drive. :)

As for gas-​station deli food goes this infact IS as good as it gets. The catfish, the hotsauce, nuff said. Wash it down with a Mt Dew Voltage after that long hill climb via bicycle. I don’t usually pass this spot without stopping.

Don’t get gas here or anything else. They sell high alcohol drinks to the drunks. It’s a huge problem.

As a long-​time-​strong-​time Beacon Hilliard, I can say that there catfish used to be way more on hit. Nowadays it’s on miss mostly and when it’s on hit it really aint because it used to be way more on hit. DejaVu in reverse or something. But what else is crackin at 3am on the Skrillside except your old James Brown LPs? I’d put a 2 star price tag on that gamble…

I have to agree, the catfish is pretty freaking good. And if you get the Jo Jos right out of the fryer, they’re real good.

Best gas station catfish in Seattle. No question.

I hit the accelerator and climb up the Holgate bridge over the shimmering lights of the I-​5 Delta. Hitting 70 my eyes water, my face freezes and the fall breeze carries with it the first scented hint of what lies ahead.
Stopping to get gas at the corner of Beacon and 14^th, expecting the usual station fair of jerky and soda one is woefully unprepared for what lies ahead. The room is set aglow with a Rococo shimmering cathedral to the foodie anti-​Christ. Blasting heat lamps stolen from the local football field bath an ocean of Jo-jo’s, crispito’s, taquito’s, jalapeño poppers, Burrito’s, chmichanga’s, blue balls, chicken wings and other undistinguishable nuggets of golden fried goodness.
Oh, maven of the fry, deacon of the dip, praise the geometric precision with which you stack the landscape of your nutritional wasteland. Organic, forget it, slow food, no time; I’ll take two sides of ranch from the dozens of perfectly portion cups stacked against the wall.
Surrounded by five gallon buckets of dipping batter the fryer bubbles and roars like a witches medieval cauldron. Bobby mans the tongs, two poppers gets three, what else for thee? Not a burnt wing or cold nugget make’s it past his watchful eye.
Jamie Oliver has nothing on you my friend. As I burn the skin off the roof of my mouth with a scalding mozzarella stick I can only wonder, Bobby do you do Thanksgiving turkeys?

You’ll laugh when I say this place has the best catfish in the city. A gas station? Well I laughed too when more than one friend of mine told me this, until I tried it. Its damn good. The rest of the hot case food is run of the mill, but locals know the truth: that you won’t find better deep fried catfish anywhere in this town. stop on by when you’re in the neighborhood