A Fried Chicken Feast in a Lorman Country Store

In Lorman, a plate of fried chicken arrives with the useful heft of a proper country meal: large pieces, hot from the buffet, with a crisp, cracker-like crust and juicy meat beneath it. This is the centerpiece of an all-you-can-eat Southern spread, but it comes in a setting that gives the meal a little more to look at and talk about than the usual buffet line.

The restaurant occupies an old country store, and it has kept the pleasing accumulation of a place that has seen plenty of life. Old-time collectibles and saved objects fill the building, turning the walk to the dining room into a browse. A meal here can have the happy disorder of an old Mississippi estate sale, only with cornbread and cobbler waiting at the end.

The dining area is large and airy, an easy contrast to the packed displays and assorted objects around the store. It gives families and small groups room to sit down without losing the feeling that they have stopped somewhere personal rather than anonymous.

The objects are not background decoration in the polished restaurant sense. They are part of the place's character: things collected, kept and arranged over time. You can spend a few minutes looking closely before lunch, then notice another oddity on the way back from the buffet.

From the road, the stop can be easy to miss if you do not already know it is there. That suits its destination nature. People make the drive to Lorman specifically for the chicken, the buffet and the singular country-store surroundings, not for a quick roadside bite.

Fried chicken is the dish around which the visit revolves. It is served in fresh batches, and an announcement that new chicken is ready is a useful bit of dining-room news. Those freshly set-out pieces are where the crust is at its crispest.

The buffet format makes it easy to go back for another piece rather than treating the chicken as a single plated entrée. That matters when a group has different appetites, or when someone wants a wing beside greens on one pass and a larger piece with yams on the next.

Mr. D has been associated with frying chicken at this historic general-store setting for roughly three decades. That long familiarity comes through in the unfussy focus of the meal: fried chicken made to be eaten hot, with the usual Southern companions nearby.

The sides give the buffet its depth. Collard greens and turnip greens bring the pot-cooked, savory side of the table, while peas and beans offer another staple worth making room for on the plate.

Yams add a sweeter note, and cucumber-and-tomato salad provides a cool, fresh counterpoint to the fried food. Cornbread dressing is there for diners who want the fuller holiday-table direction of the spread.

There can also be pig feet, a traditional item that will delight some regular Southern-food eaters and intrigue the more cautious. It is one of those details that keeps this from being a generic comfort-food buffet. A basic salad bar is available as well.

Cornbread belongs on the plate, naturally. With all-you-can-eat cooking, the sensible approach is not necessarily a towering first trip; it is leaving a little room to circle back to the items that catch your attention.

Dessert is not an afterthought here. Peach cobbler and blackberry cobbler are among the choices, with ice cream available to turn a warm scoop of fruit and pastry into the proper finish to a big lunch or dinner.

Cobbler is the item to pace yourself for. After chicken, greens, dressing and cornbread, it can be tempting to call the meal complete. But a bowl of cobbler with melting ice cream is a strong argument for one more trip through the line.

Mr. D supplies a large share of the room's personality. His visits with diners can include conversation, stories and bits of advice, the sort of exchange that makes a meal feel hosted rather than merely served.

He is also known to sing for guests, sometimes around the meal and sometimes as people are paying their bill. The singing adds an old-fashioned, lightly theatrical grace note without changing the basic purpose of the visit: sitting down to hearty food and a good conversation.

He may not be present on every visit, so the restaurant should not be approached as a guaranteed performance. Still, the friendly, welcoming tone carries through the staff and the room itself.

Guests choosing the buffet are asked to wash their hands before being seated or served. It is a simple house ritual, direct and practical, and it sets the tone for a meal that does things in its own established way.

After that, the routine is pleasantly straightforward: find a seat in the spacious dining room, make a first pass through the Southern dishes, and keep an ear out in case a fresh chicken batch is announced.

This is a dine-in meal built around the buffet, the store and the people in it. It works comfortably for family tables and modest groups, especially when one person wants chicken, another is drawn to greens and dressing, and somebody is already thinking ahead to blackberry cobbler.

There is a free parking lot with plentiful parking, one less complication for a stop that may be part of a longer Mississippi drive. Once inside, the pace is more lingering than hurried: food, conversation, old objects, then perhaps one last look around before heading back out.