In a region where fried catfish is practically a religion, Taylor Grocery stands tall as one of the great stewards of this culinary tradition. Since 1977, crowds have lingered on the front porch waiting for a seat in a rudimentary dining room where scratched walls are covered in scribble and old class photos. There’s no reason to look at a menu. You could dabble in gumbo or poke at a salad, but nothing should distract or deter from ordering a righteous mountain of cornmeal-dusted, golden-fried catfish flanked by an avalanche of hushpuppies. Tartare sauce and ketchup on the table complete the picture.