Savannah Pralines: The Candy Story Behind River Street's Sweet Smell

Savannah pralines are the city's unofficial scent: butter, sugar, cream, and pecans coming off marble slabs in copper-kettle batches all day long on River Street. The short answer: yes, you should walk into the candy shops; yes, the warm free sample is real and offered to everyone at the door; and yes, there is a genuinely great story behind the two names you will see everywhere — River Street Sweets and Savannah's Candy Kitchen, both born of the same Savannah family in 1973, split by a divorce, and eventually reunited into what bills itself as the largest praline maker in the country. Few souvenirs carry this much local history per bite.

TL;DR — The Savannah Praline Rundown

• What it is: the Southern praline — pecans folded into cooked butter, sugar, and cream, poured into soft-set discs. Savannah and New Orleans both claim praline supremacy; Savannah argues volume and aroma.
• Where: River Street Sweets and Savannah's Candy Kitchen, both flagshipped on River Street, with outposts in City Market.
• The ritual: a warm praline sample at the door — take it, and watch a batch being poured while you eat it.
• The story: one family, two brands, 1973 origins, a 1991 split, and a reunion — genuine Savannah business lore.
• Getting them home: pralines travel well for a week or two properly sealed; both shops ship nationwide for the truly hooked.

What Exactly Is a Praline?

The Southern praline is a candy of French ancestry that the American South rebuilt around its native nut. Where the French original coats almonds in caramelized sugar, the Gulf-and-lowcountry version — carried into Louisiana and coastal Georgia kitchens and perfected over two centuries — cooks sugar, butter, and cream to the soft-ball stage, folds in toasted pecans, and drops the mixture into palm-sized rounds that set somewhere magical between fudge and caramel. Eaten warm, minutes off the marble, the texture is a different food entirely from the boxed version — which is the whole argument for eating one on River Street instead of ordering online first.

New Orleans will tell you pralines are theirs; Savannah's rebuttal is industrial-scale devotion. The candy kitchens here pour batches continuously in open view — copper kettles, wooden paddles, marble cooling slabs — and the smell drifts far enough down the riverfront to function as the neighborhood's welcome sign.

One Family, Two Candy Empires

Here is the story behind the two names on every sweet-toothed visitor's map. In 1973, the Strickland family opened a small gift shop on a then-unglamorous River Street — rent ran about fifty dollars a month — and candy crept in almost by accident: a couple of fudge pots from an Atlanta gift show, a first batch made by the founders' young daughter, and an instant St. Patrick's Day hit. The shop became River Street Sweets, now Savannah's oldest candy store.

When founders Stan and Pam Strickland divorced in 1991, the business split with the family: she continued River Street Sweets, and he built Savannah's Candy Kitchen — which is why two nearly adjacent shops sell nearly identical pralines with equal claims to heritage. The next generation eventually brought the brands back together under one family company, one that today calls itself the largest praline producer in the United States, with shops across the South and a franchise arm carrying the name beyond Georgia. Sample both shops and you are not picking sides in a feud; you are tasting both halves of a reconciliation.

Local tip: The free warm praline at the door is a genuine tradition, not a trap — but the candy makers' real show is the pour. Time your visit to catch a batch coming off the kettle: the ladle work, the spreading, the fifteen minutes of cooling that separate liquid from legend. Kids stand transfixed; adults pretend they aren't.

What Else Should You Try?

Pralines headline, but the supporting cast earns its counter space: bear claws (caramel, pecans, and chocolate in paw-sized slabs), hand-pulled taffy from machines that hypnotize passersby, glazed pecans, divinity, and fudge in a dozen rotations. Serious dessert loyalists should zoom out to the city's whole sweet circuit — Leopold's and the ice cream tier, the bakery cases in our coffee guide, and the dessert stops that anchor several food tours, where guides fold the candy story into the city's larger food history.

How Do You Get Pralines Home?

Better than most souvenirs. Individually wrapped and sealed, pralines hold their quality for a week or two at room temperature — long enough to survive any drive home from a reasonable radius — though humidity is the enemy, so keep them airtight rather than refrigerated. Buying for a crowd? Boxes pack flat in carry-ons and clear airport security without drama. And when the box is gone and the craving is not, both companies run robust nationwide shipping operations — the true sign of how many visitors leave Savannah with this exact dependency. Fold the candy stop into a broader spree with our shopping guide; River Street and City Market cover the souvenir spectrum from taffy to art.

Bottom Line: Savannah Pralines

The praline is Savannah's edible postcard: a French-rooted, pecan-perfected candy poured in public view all day on River Street by two shops that are really one remarkable family story — founded 1973, divided 1991, reunited into America's praline heavyweight. Take the warm sample, watch a pour, try both houses' versions, and carry a sealed box home for the people you like best. Then build the rest of the sweet afternoon with our River Street guide — in this city, dessert is a walking tour.