Editor’s Score, using our Culinary Compass rubric: 48 out of 55, resulting in an 87%. A score of 90% or higher earns a “Certified Cute” sticker, signifying that the restaurant excels in the trifecta of aesthetic, cuisine, and service, representing the best of North Georgia dining. Restaurants are eligible for re-evaluation every 90 days.
I’ve visited Hush Cuban Kitchen & Bar three times. On the first two occasions, I brought my Cuban husband, a man who grew to his 6’4″ stature on a steady diet of Ropa Vieja and Raspa. While I won’t credit his chest hair entirely to the potent combination of Lechón Asado and espresso, I’d wager those robust flavors played their part in shaping his bold palate.
My initiation into Cuban home cooking, however, occurred later in life. The first time I sampled his mother’s Pollo al la Plancha, I made what could only be described as a culinary faux pas. Foolishly, I dared to place the delicate, braised chicken on a tortilla— after covering it in mayonnaise and topping it with a slice of Swiss cheese. I know now that this was heresy, a scandal I still haven’t lived down. To this day, the memory of that meal remains a point of contention in our marriage. And yet, love finds a way.
Today, I returned to Hush Cuban Kitchen & Bar not with my husband, but with two southern senior citizens, my parents. You’ve met them before, even if you don’t know Tom and Donna personally.
They are the southern folk who travel the Caribbean through a string of cruise excursions, yet whose diet remains steadfastly anchored in slow-cooked pulled pork, spaghetti, burgers, and, when they’re feeling adventurous, the Tex-Mex offerings of the local Mexican restaurant. Their palate, let’s say, is less of a passport and more of a well-worn map with just a few favorite stops.
Taking them to Hush felt like a bold move, bordering on reckless, but I had an ace up my sleeve—my mom likes Cuban food. After all, Cuban and American Southern barbeque involve slowly cooked meats, a reliance on garlic, and a twist of citrus.
The Service
My mom’s company allowed me a unique opportunity to understand the ordering process and experience from the perspective of someone not initiated into the nature of authentic Caribbean cooking.
I knew exactly what I wanted: a Cuban sandwich with a side of Yuca Frita and plantains. Donna, however, was less certain, the unfamiliar names on the menu gave her pause. She turned to the online review photos from Yelp, trying to visualize what the dishes might look like when served. I encouraged her to rely on the written descriptions, but since she typically sticks to a Cuban sandwich with rice and beans, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the broader menu.
While it’s fair to assume most customers can conceptualize their meals from the descriptions alone, waitstaff is generally prepared to bridge that gap. Unfortunately, when Donna asked for clarifications or a little more detail about certain dishes, she was met with a rather stony silence. I ended up guiding her through the menu myself, explaining the flavors and textures of each dish she considered. It was a bit frustrating to realize that such assistance wasn’t forthcoming from the staff, placing the onus of explaining the menu onto myself—a lack of hospitality that, as I’d soon find out, would persist throughout our meal.
As I tried to settle in, I realized my 1-year-old daughter would be more comfortable in a high chair. While transitioning her from the stroller to the chair, I noticed the buckle was broken, but the waiter quickly replaced it. Needing to change her diaper, I headed to the women’s bathroom, only to discover there was no changing table in sight, which left me at a bit of a loss. I had to pivot, though it was certainly an inconvenience. If a changing table exists in the restaurant, it’s not in a spot easily visible to most customers.
Moreover, a series of small inconveniences added up throughout the meal—from having to request a straw, to repeated shortages of drinks, and an extended wait to receive the check, all while the waitstaff stood chatting in a circle for long stretches of time. Not the worst of crimes, but it’s certainly a departure from most service expectations.
The Cuisine
When I returned from the bathroom with a happy baby in my arms, I was pleased to find our food on the table, piping hot and plentiful.
My eyes immediately landed on the Yuca Frita, each piece fried to perfection with a soft, starchy center and just a hint of salt. I smiled, recalling my initial hesitation when my husband ordered Yuca Frita during our first visit to a Cuban restaurant back in 2015. I had mistakenly assumed it came from the sharp, flaxen yuca leaves I’d seen in Florida, rather than the hearty root now sitting before me. I still remember the palpable relief (and his inevitable eye-roll) when the dish arrived, resembling thick-cut fries with no sharp points in sight.
Beside the Yuca Frita sat a thick Cuban sandwich, overflowing with layers of roast pork and ham, nestled between two slices of bread that were both dense and flaky, lightly toasted. The pickles added a tangy crunch, cutting through the richness with just the right bite. A bowl of rich, earthy black beans completes the plate, the flavor deep and comforting, with just a whisper of spice.
Yet, the guest of honor at the table were the soft, caramelized plantains, still holding their shape, their sweetness balancing the savory components of the meal. It had just the right amount of blackened char to it’s edges.
My mother ordered the Pollo a la Plancha, a dish of grilled chicken breast, onions, yellow rice, black beans, sweet plantains, and avocado. She loved it so much she considered ordering a second to take home for lunch the next day. My daughter, who isn’t the most enthused vegetable eater, surprisingly devoured the avocado. My father, nearly 70 and set in his ways, opted for a cheeseburger but enjoyed it immensely, particularly praising the crispy, flavorful fries and even sharing a few in his enthusiasm.
It was one of the finest Cuban meals I’ve ever had, even compared to my many trips to Miami and Key West. We are fortunate in Northeast Georgia to have access to cuisine like this. My friend Jim Gunther, a master chef formerly based in Florida, also considers The Hush his favorite Cuban restaurant in the region. And we’re not alone—the restaurant boasts a 4.7-star rating on Google, with most criticisms focused on service rather than food quality. Yet, many enjoying the full trifecta of service, aesthetic, and taste.
The aesthetic
I drive nearly an hour to dine at The Hush, drawn not only by the meal but also by the aesthetic. The wide, covered veranda, reminiscent of early 20th-century Cuban designs, conjures images of Ernest Hemingway sipping a Mojito or José Martí penning a poem. While this time I chose to eat inside, I fondly remember past evenings spent outdoors—one beneath an inky black sky, another watching the sunset with a soft breeze. The cocktails on those visits were perfectly balanced, neither too strong nor too sweet. At my feet, a well-mannered Corgi patiently waited, eyeing his owners with the hope of sampling the meal remains.
The inside is spacious, with walls lined in colorful folk art that adds warmth and character. A particularly vibrant painting of Celia Cruz dominates the room, drawing the eye without overwhelming the space. It’s lively yet balanced, creating an inviting atmosphere that feels both relaxed and vibrant.
Finally, we received the bill and I was pleased with the moderate price. Three individuals ordered two appetizers, drinks, and three meals for under $70.00.
Conclusion
When dining at The Hush you might think about the forces that drove Cuban families from their homeland and into the United States where individuals can learn and appreciate their cooking and style. And you might think about how they found new beginnings in places like Northeast Georgia—a quieter refuge compared to the turbulence they left behind, yet one where their traditions could thrive.
Here, in this land of rolling hills and mountain views, as in the seaside towns of Florida and other cities, they rebuilt their lives, sharing the tastes and stories of home. It’s these stories that linger in every dish at The Hush, where my half-Cuban daughter now savors the same plantains and avocados that tell a tale of resilience and a fresh start.
Editors note: When evaluating a restaurant, I follow a clear rubric to ensure fairness and consistency. My overall score reflects multiple aspects of the dining experience—flavor, presentation, service, atmosphere, and value—giving weight to both strengths and shortcomings. I approach this as a consumer report, providing my honest, unbiased opinion for the benefit of diners in North Georgia. This review is written without fear or favor, designed to edify and inform, so others can make educated decisions about where they choose to dine. My goal is to highlight both the highs and lows as authentically as possible, based on my direct experiences.
Would you be interested in a thorough, unbiased review written with passion and a healthy spoonful of generosity by our senior editor? Please reach out to thecutenorthgeorgian@gmail.com for more information.
