Boggs Social & Supply — Restaurant in Atlanta

In this fleeting refuge of human yearning, where music beckons the weary, this venue stands as a tragic ode to squandered promise. Just after 9 PM, I entered, drawn to witness our dear friends weave their homage to Rush’s timeless sound, hunger gnawing at my core, my companion’s blood sugar fading like a distant lament, only to face a bitter mockery: the kitchen, its menu a cruel mirage, had shuttered at 9 PM, though the night stretched toward 2 AM. The bartender, a jaded sage of this forlorn place, knew the surrounding streets offered no sustenance, yet urged us to drown our want in spirits. What absurdity! To drink on empty stomachs is to flirt with ruin, yet we were driven to roam the night, scavenging for scraps, risking the Rush cover band’s performance—a ritual we had paid to witness. A simple act—a late-night offering of chicken tenders or grilled cheese—could sate the soul and swell the bar’s coffers, sparing the burden of a full kitchen’s toil. But such clarity is lost here. The sound was a wound upon the heart. This was a Rush cover band, their intricate homage demanding reverence, yet the mix was a deafening, distorted abyss, a betrayal of the muse. I glimpsed the source: the soundboard, banished to a corner of another room, tended by a lone technician, condemned to dash through the crowd to hear their own adjustments. A Sisyphean task, as the band’s soaring vocals drowned in distortion’s maw. The ambiance is a peculiar enigma, a floorplan so uniquely malformed it defies comparison, as if shaped by a delirious hand indifferent to joy. The stage, a misplaced afterthought, mocks the very act of performance. Nearby, televisions cast a garish light, anime-like figures in bikinis contorting in a surreal pantomime that jars against the music’s soul. In this gentrifying corner, where the city reinvents itself with restless hunger, this dive bar offers not revelry but a stark mirror of human folly. Yet, a glimmer of redemption persists: a kitchen that lingers past dusk, a soundboard freed from exile, a vision purged of absurdity. Only then might this place rise to meet the souls who...

Unfortunately, I’m leaving this review knowing the Bar Manager, Lee, somewhat personally… The dude is a jerk! It’s amazing that I can call twice in a row to ask if their kitchen is open (for pop-up food) & get hung up on twice in a row for a simple question…

The dude has been rude in person on multiple occasions to me & my company & yet being a longtime resident in the West End community we still go to Boggs, among other SW Beltline bars, to try to stay local & active to the West End community..

Even more than one of his co-workers has told me he personally doesn’t like Black people in business or personally. So the entire experience is pretty disgraceful anytime he decides he isn’t in a good mood or doesn’t want to talk with you.

It’s a shame having such an inauthentic (& prejudiced) person in the community whose nasty personality seems to rub off on the business itself in such a well-known, thriving, predominantly...

This place is hit or miss. Have had good service and other times been ignored by bartenders for almost an hour, while sitting at the bar. Sometimes it's like you have to go to a specific spot in the middle of the bar to put in an order.

They started "Drop it Like It's Tropic" Tiki nights. The first night the DJ played great tropical/jazzy music and they had snippets of Fantasy Island, views of Hawaii and the beaches, and tropical scenes on the TV. The next event the DJ put anime videos on the TV and played more emo/video game style music with some topical thrown in like an afterthought. If you want a slushie drink, get there before 9:30, they ran out by 9:45. Beer selection is very limited. They have a kitchen that features guest pop ups, but food is not available...