What Saltbox Seafood Chef Ricky Moore Loves About Durham
We sat down with James Beard Award winner Ricky Moore to talk seafood, Durham’s entrepreneurial DNA, the art of earning diner trust and why a perfect meal is more than what’s on the plate.
For more than a decade, Chef Ricky Moore has served North Carolina’s coast on paper trays from his bright‑blue Saltbox Seafood Joint.
Born in New Bern, seasoned in fine‑dining kitchens around the world, Moore chose Durham to celebrate the small boats, brackish waters and “fisher‑folk” he grew up with down east. His restaurant began as a 205‑square‑foot take‑out hut and grew—through word‑of‑mouth, bike‑delivered flyers, and a fiercely loyal community—into a Bull City landmark that can serve nearly 2,000 pounds of North Carolina-caught seafood on a busy summer weekend.
In 2022, Ricky was recognized by the James Beard Foundation as the Best Chef in America: Southeast, a watershed moment for a casual moment that brought significant attention to the state’s seafood business. In 2025, he was selected as a James Beard Award Semifinalist for Outstanding Chef. Most recently, Ricky released the second edition of his Saltbox Seafood Joint Cookbook featuring 68 recipes celebrating his coastal culinary heritage. Whether you're looking to expand your seafood repertoire or re-create the Saltbox Seafood Joint dishes, get your hands on a copy.
You often call Saltbox “homegrown.” What does that mean?
Ricky Moore: Homegrown means people witnessed the whole thing—how we started, how we grew—and they keep spreading the word. It celebrates a sense of place. Homegrown spots are disappearing, so folks want to support the ones that are left.
What about Durham made that possible?
The DNA of Durham is small business—go back to Black Wall Street, Main, Parrish and Pettigrew. Entrepreneurship built this town, so the community shows up for it. I’m not from here, but I studied that history and paid homage. The support is real.
Take us back to day one. How did Saltbox begin?
I’d cooked in high‑brow restaurants all over—Europe, Singapore, you name it—but I wanted something different. On Mangum Street I found this neglected 205‑square‑foot shack—basically one fish station with a take‑out window. It reminded me of the hawker stalls in Singapore. I rode my bike to the Durham public‑schools lot and stuck flyers under windshield wipers. No Facebook—just bike flyers. People thought, ‘Here we go again, another place that’ll flame out,’ but I had a clear vision.
For someone who’s never been, how do you describe the menu at Saltbox Seafood?
It’s freestyle, free‑form—never printed—but always centered on seafood from North Carolina fisher‑folk. I grew up in the Inner Banks, so I knew fish that never hit Triangle menus: triggerfish, mullet, bluefish, Spanish mackerel, whole croaker and spot. At first I sold what people trusted—flounder, shrimp, oysters—then added a Try Me board. Once they tasted my flounder and knew it’d be right every time, they’d try bluefish. Trust is the secret sauce.
Which catches make you happiest?
Give me triggerfish, always. I love soft‑shell crabs and whole fish like mullet, sea‑mullet, spot, croaker—what I ate growing up. That’s where the flavor lives.
How have Saltbox guests changed after 12 years?
Now customers walk in asking, ‘Is it croaker season yet?’ They know mild versus oily, they know why flounder disappears when the season closes. Education happened through osmosis—year after year, plate after plate.
You call Durham “Brooklyn in the South.” Why?
It’s convivial, contextual, community‑driven. I can pop into Toast and see Chef Matt Kelly eating an egg sandwich, or hit Guglhupf on a Sunday like half the city. The dining experiences live in the moment—food plus the people handing it to you.
Where do you send first‑time Durham visitors?
Start downtown: walk Black Wall Street, the Durham Farmers’ Market, American Tobacco Campus, catch a Durham Bulls game. Stroll Duke Gardens. Eat the OGs—Guglhupf for breakfast, Chicken Hut for fried chicken, Georgio’s original Parizade for the history, Toast for goat‑cheese bruschetta and chicken liver mousse. Festivals like Full Frame or Bull City Food & Beer put you right in the crowd. And if you can score an invite to a Durham house party, go—that’s the real flavor.
Michelin is expanding to the American South. What should inspectors recognize?
Michelin says, ‘Be remarkable in your category.’ Whether you plate on China or eco‑to‑go boxes, excellence is excellence. Inspectors should hit everything from avant‑garde tasting menus to legacy spots like Skylight Inn in Ayden: decades of chopped whole‑hog barbecue, unbeatable consistency.
Recognition would be validation, not arrival—we’ve always been here, ready to participate. North Carolina has the coastline, the Piedmont farms, the wine, the super‑duper cooks. It’s time.
Final thought: What makes a meal memorable to you?
Someone might drive past thirty places to eat here. I can’t take that for granted. The fish has to be perfect, but the experience—why they came, who they’re with, maybe a doctor’s visit at Duke—that’s what sticks. A restaurant is more than a plate; it’s community on a tray.
Follow Chef Ricky Moore on Instagram @chefrickymoore for more, and follow @saltboxseafood to see the latest catch.
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