Cooked fresh daily
We fry in fresh batches all day long, so your chicken is still hot and crisp when it gets to you.
Fried chicken and breakfast on a Hillsborough corner that has been feeding people for more than sixty years.
The Shack is about chicken first. It comes out of the fryer in fresh batches all day, golden and crackly on the outside and juicy underneath. Set a biscuit next to it, pick two sides, and you’ve got a Shack plate.
We cook for Hillsborough. Early risers grab breakfast on the way to work, crews come in on their lunch break, and families pick up supper on the way home. We open at 7:00am on weekdays and 8am on Saturdays, serve until 7pm, and take Sundays off.
“Nobody knows chicken like The Shack.”
Some folks call ahead. Some swing through for a combo at lunch, and some have us feed the whole office. However you find your way to the counter, we’re glad you did.

We fry in fresh batches all day long, so your chicken is still hot and crisp when it gets to you.
Every plate comes with two sides and a biscuit, and the burgers go all the way up to a full pound.
We’re on N Churton Street, right where Highway 70 comes through, cooking for the folks who live and work around here.
Long before the first basket of chicken, this corner where Churton Street meets Highway 70 was pumping gas, swirling soft serve, and flipping burgers. Every era left something behind. Here’s the walk-through, plus a few ghosts you can still spot on your next visit.
Land records show a filling station on this lot by 1961, right where Churton Street curves into Highway 70 at what was then the north edge of town. Its supply contract reads like a glovebox inventory: gas, motor oil, grease, tires, tubes and batteries. The building was sturdy concrete block, with a front office and service counter, and a wide concrete canopy apron out front where the pumps stood.
In 1963 Sun Oil Company leased the lot, and that November a newspaper ad for the North Hills shops up the street announced Now including Sunoco service.
So picture a Sunoco on the curve, the first thing travelers saw coming into Hillsborough off the highway.
It would have sounded like any service station of those years: a car rolling up to the pumps, a screen door slapping shut, an engine idling while somebody checked the oil before heading on into town.
You can still see it: the wide, flat lot out front sits right where the pump islands stood. See the pump-island lot
Newspaper ads from 1964 sent Hillsboro folks to a Tastee-Freez at “Hwy. 86-70,” and a 1965 land survey marks a Tastee-Freez building on the lot next door. Gas on one side and ice cream close by is not a bad combination on a July afternoon.
Picture a hot Carolina July out on the highway, heat shimmering off the pavement, and a cold soft-serve cone as the cure.
1977 is the year this corner stopped being an auto stop. The old station was retrofitted and built onto, and the mechanics’ bays and service area became a full commercial kitchen. Orange County’s property records still list the building’s year as 1977.
The makeover brought the wide front windows, the fryer ventilation hoods, and the red vertical wood siding you see today. Picture the swap: where there had been tools and tire stacks, now there were prep tables and hoods.
It set the building up for its restaurant life, starting with Dairy Freez.
You can still see it: follow the rooflines and the floor layout and you can find where the 1960s station walls meet the 1977 kitchen.
Dairy Freez opened as a soft-serve stop right here at 646. County records show the Dairy Freez business name was registered in Orange County in September 1977, the same year as the makeover.
Picture a summer evening on the lot: families pulling in for soft serve, and for the first time a full commercial kitchen at work inside.
As locals remember it, Heidi’s Charbroiled Burgers came after Dairy Freez: a hometown, independent stop serving charbroiled burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Nobody has pinned down its exact years, and Heidi’s was most likely a trade name, the name on the sign and not necessarily the one on the paperwork.
You can almost smell it from the road: charbroiler smoke drifting across the lot, a basket of hot fries, a milkshake too thick for the straw.
The sign letters were bolted straight onto the red wood siding. Years of North Carolina sun weathered the wood around them, and when the letters came down, their outline stayed behind.
You can still see it: the faded Heidi’s script, a big CH, and the bolt holes where the letters hung, right on the siding above the front windows. Spot the ghosts


In the 2000s this was Tony’s Bar-Be-Cue, and Hillsborough novelist Lee Smith wrote that it served the best sausage biscuits in town—arguably in the entire South,
made from scratch every day.
Later came Highway 70 BBQ, with pulled pork, ribs, Southern sides, and breakfast too. Old reviews also mention hush puppies, hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken sandwiches.

Picture the morning regulars lined up for biscuits before work and the lunch crowd right behind them. Breakfast on this corner goes back a long way.
Gas station, soft-serve stop, burger joint, barbecue joint, chicken shack. This little corner has been feeding Hillsborough for more than sixty years, and now it’s our turn. We fry chicken in fresh batches all day, start breakfast at 7:00am on weekdays, and pile the plates high.
Next time you pull into the lot, look up at the siding. The old ghosts are still there, and so are we. Nobody knows chicken like The Shack.
Buildings remember. Look closely and this one is still a 1970s fast-food throwback, with a small, cozy dining room. Every era left a clue behind. How many can you spot?
Check the red wood siding. Heidi’s sign letters were bolted right onto it, and decades of North Carolina sun weathered the siding around them. The letters are long gone, but their outline is still there: the swoopy Heidi’s script and a big CH.
Look closer at those letters. They’re traced by rows of bolt holes where the sign was fastened to the siding, like a connect-the-dots of the old sign.
That wide, flat parking area out front sits right where the gas pump islands used to be. Pull in there and you’re parked in the 1960s.
Follow the rooflines and the floor layout. You can see where the 1960s station walls meet the 1977 kitchen addition: two eras stitched into one building.
Got an old photo or a favorite memory of this corner? Show us next time you stop in. We’d love to see it.

Because good chicken doesn’t need a fancy name. It needs a hot fryer, good seasoning, and somebody at the counter who’s glad you came in.