Sometimes, the authors of this site have stretched the truth like fresh, warm taffy in the hot August sun, and other times, our chronicle writes itself (with an assist from fingers hunting and pecking the keyboard). This week’s adventure is in the latter category. Consider it Patrick GPT.
It begins with conflict, as most good stories do. Steve was in his car following Guy and his passenger, Roy, as they made their way to meet Patrick at Jones Bridge Trail in Roswell. Steve drove alone because he said he had an early “business call.”
George was still at the Paris Olympics, collecting American gold like a greedy prospector and giving Steph Curry advice on reclaiming his 3-point shot. “Step back. This line is too close for you. Aim, extend the wrist, and SWISH! NBN!”
Brad was absent, resting his boots. He had an early morning “business call.” As you can tell, some Trailheads suck at retirement. Elvis was confused. "I don't have a “business call” as you human meat bags call them, so why do I have to suffer?"
Steve was following Guy’s Jeep, which is a big mistake since Trail Master is an ex-secret agent who knows how to shake a tail. And he did just that. Steve turned to GPS for guidance to the hiking site, and satellites commanded him to go through a neighborhood planted with STOP signs growing like wildflowers. Steve did a rolling stop (he claims it was “almost a complete one”), and unfortunately, a Johns Creek Johnny Lawman was lying in wait and pulled him over.
Steve swears he was very polite, and said, “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” like an English butler while complimenting the officer on his “nice uniform.” But all this sucking up was to no avail. The cop wrote him up, and now the desperado must go to court and suffer a swift slap of justice. He estimates the ticket will run $400-500. Had we realized how lucrative tickets were, we would have been ticketing Steve for Trailheads’ violations. We’ll think of something.
Johns Creek was recently selected by Travel + Leisure magazine as “The best suburb in America.” We suppose this community must pay for new signage touting that distinction, and Steve’s fine will help pay for this.
As The Bobby Fuller Four sang, “I fought the law/ and the law won.” So, sports fans, the official score is LAW 1, STEVE 0.
The hoodlum arrived and was extra cautious. He quickly realized he didn’t have a parking pass and had to buy one or risk getting busted again. The ticket machine was happy to help.
We began our hike a half-hour earlier than usual to avoid the punishing summer temperatures. The criminal getting busted ate fifteen minutes from our schedule, but we accommodate convicts. We view Trailheads as a halfway house for gangsters and STOP sign rollers.
Jones Bridge is one of our favorite trails. We hiked it last in November; click here for the gripping tale. It has everything you could want–elevations, the beautiful Chattahoochee River, paths leading to numerous routes (most with a nice shady canopy), and friendly hikers, many with dogs. Fio made lots of new friends.
Patrick was wearing his “HIKE THE HOOCH” tee shirt, made of 100% finely spun cotton for extra absorbency on this hot, muggy day. You would look fabulous in one of these babies. And remember, ALL profits from our merchandise sales benefit The Chattahoochee National Park Conservancy. Wear a fashion statement that shows your love for Mother Nature. You can get your attractive merch here. Thanks for being a hero. We salute you.
Trailheads winded their way through the forest to the river. The waterfowl gathered across the way, and we posed for our selfie with a beautiful backdrop.
We continued hiking the trail, minding our steps as some paths were strewn with exposed roots, lying in wait for the unsuspecting people like a Johns Creek cop waiting for rolling stoppers.
Up ahead was a large rock. Guy wanted a picture of himself appearing to move the heavy stone. We suppose it’s for holiday cards or maybe posting on the local Publix bulletin board.
We also got a snapshot of Steve with the monster stone since if he keeps up his bad-boy behavior, he’ll soon be breaking rocks at prison camp. Will we ever tire of this razzing? Probably not. Patrick and Roy looked at each other and shook their heads as they watched the photo ops. They were not about to play silly rock games in this heat.
Guy came upon a couple exiting their car. The man was wearing a Navy cap, and Guy chatted him up, showing a picture of the aircraft carrier his father served on in WWII departing San Francisco Bay for the vast blue Pacific.
The gentleman said he served on a similar craft. We stood in the distance and discussed subjects ranging from the advantages of split-duct units versus conventional HVAC systems to sports to politics to streaming shows we like.
We also did our very best Kenny Loggins impressions, softly singing "Danger Zone" to accompany the aircraft conversation happening down by the river.
When the hike resumed, Guy and Roy were in the lead. The other two Trailheads approached a couple of beautiful wild mushrooms, and Steve immediately crouched to shoot pictures. He has taken iPhone macro-photography classes and has a great eye. Patrick took a picture of Steve taking a photo because that is meta.
While those two goofed off, the determined, dedicated Trailheads hiked on (Roy’s in that pair?). As the shutterbugs resumed hiking, Steve realized Guy had once again shaken his tail––Steve’s, not Guy’s tail (Trail Master doesn’t like to talk about his ability to wag).
Two Trailheads were lost because they had “done ‘shrooms”—we think that’s what the kids call it. Patrick whipped out his mushroom identification app to determine what to do about these 'shrooms. Unable to find the exact fungi, they decided not to consume them. So, they continued. The path split into three routes, but which way should they go?
We saw a sign reading ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY” and assumed that was where they went since Guy loves barging into forbidden areas. Down we went, however, there was still no sign of them. We texted and then called.
“Where are you?” Patrick sobbed. “Steve and I are lost and will probably die! We’re terrified!!!” He’s a bit of a drama dude.
“I think we see you,” Guy said. “We’ll start walking your way. Stay calm…”
Patrick looked at Steve and considered cannibalism. It was getting to be lunchtime, and he would save the traffic violator from suffering the long arm of Johns Creek justice. Fortunately for Steve, Guy and Roy showed up. But first, we would have to navigate a deep canyon that had probably claimed many lives.
Trail Master helped us make it across with his helping hand and then kicked Roy in the pants because he looked bored.
“I’m bored,” Roy said. We believed him. Had Patrick made an early lunch of Steve, Roy could have enjoyed leftovers, which may have amused him.
We began returning to the cars and called Brad and Patrick’s wife Donna to join us for lunch at ‘cue Barbecue in Peachtree Corners. Our last visit was nine months ago (read about it here).
We’re fans of this joint tucked in a strip center on Peachtree Industrial Blvd. The interior is spacious and beautiful, but that’s not for the likes of us––sweaty animals with animals.
We found a table on the covered patio perfect for dogs. Not only do they have water bowls, but there’s also a handy hose to fill them. And unlike so many places, they even have signs announcing how welcoming they are to pups.
The menu has all your barbecue favorites, including a few rare treasures we’ll get to later.
Our attentive server was Ilona, who brought us beverages while we reviewed the menu. She declined to have her picture taken, and we respect that. Privacy is yours to keep. Perhaps she's like Steve––wanted in three states.
Patrick’s wife, Donna, breezed in, fresh from a morning Pilates session on the Reformer. It sounded strenuous and painful––two things Trailheads are not fond of. We quickly modified our conversation topics. Usually, our chatter is similar to junior high boys at the lunchroom table when the teachers are out of the room.
Brad and Elvis arrived. Fio and Elvis caught up with each other, and Mark, the owner of ‘cue Barbecue, came by. He loved seeing two dogs with six humans on his covered patio. He asked us if we minded having our picture taken (it was more because of the dogs than us). We agreed and posed like the hams we are as he snapped away.
Let’s eat! Four of us ordered half racks of baby back ribs. And we were glad we did.
‘cue Barbecue smokes some mighty tasty ribs. The baby backs were as meaty as a Quentin Tarantino script. We dressed our ribs with flavorful sauce; there were three or four options, and all are very good. Then, we got to work gnawing the bones bare. You can’t go wrong with the ribs, unless you’re vegetarian, in which case, go off the reservation and give them a go. They’re worth it.
Donna, a Texas native, had the chopped brisket sandwich. 'cue Barbecue is not stingy with its smoked meats piled high on big, toasted buns. Dress your sandwich and go to town. She enjoyed her meal and was transported back to Austin days. Her eyes went glassy as she dreamed of what might have been had she married Clint, the handsome cowboy, instead of a wiseass Buckeye boy who rides a keyboard instead of a bronco.
Patrick asked her to please stop daydreaming–it hurt him. The happy couple recently celebrated their 39th wedding anniversary (their secret must be the 10-gallon hat and mask she forces him to wear).
Bad boy Steve had the pork sandwich and was impressed by the massive mound of meat. He was thrilled with his plate of grub, and we told him it had to be a lot better than the slop they’ll serve him in the hoosegow. He attacked us with his shiv. Who could blame him?
Let’s talk side dishes. They were all fantastic. We’ll start with the grilled pineapple. You read right—grilled pineapple. It was refreshingly sweet and delicious. We wish more barbecue places offered grilled fruit.
Steve raved about his tomato and cucumber salad. Fresh-sliced Roma tomatoes and crispy cucumbers drizzled with a savory balsamic vinegarette—it’s another winner.
Brad loved his baked beans: Navy and Pinto beans in a tangy, savory sauce, with bacon, and onions singing backup. Even old Cowboy Clint would love this dish.
Trailheads’ design guru Brad also gushed about his fresh collard greens with bacon, onions, and a hint of red pepper. It’s a flavor combo that can’t be beat.
Resident slaw expert Roy enthusiastically endorses the version served here. It's called “Pittsburgh Slaw,” crisp shredded cabbage with a vinegar dressing marinated with diced red peppers, onion, and turmeric. You can also have any sandwich served “Pittsburgh-style,” topped with slaw, hand-cut russet fries, and a fried egg. We love places that get creative in the kitchen. Play with your food, chefs.
Patrick had the onion strings, another unique offering. They’re hand-cut yellow onions dipped in buttermilk, lightly breaded, and fried to a golden-brown crisp. He filled his tongue/teeth box and mumbled, “Yeah, baby, that’s the stuff!” (How does Donna put up with him?)
Lastly, a couple of us enjoyed the fried okra. These crispy morsels have got to be good for you––why else would they be so delectable?
With bellies bursting and brows sweating, we decided to punch out and call it a day. We rode into the early afternoon sun, hyper-aware of all traffic signs.
Rating: Four Ribs*
'cue Barbecue
5260 Peachtree Industrial Blvd.
Peachtree Corners, GA 30071
470-299-5117
*About Our Barbecue Rating System
Trailheads do not claim to be food experts, epicureans, or sophisticated palates. We are hungry hikers who attack a selected barbecue venue and ravage our way through whatever smoked fare and fixings they're dishing out.
Our reviews feature what we believe are the highlights of the menu we sampled. So our intent is not to trash talk the saintly folks who tend to smoldering smokers on hot, humid summer days. They are sacrificing themselves in the noble art of smoking meats and feeding the drooling masses. Many are independent entrepreneurs who are the backbone of this humming American economy.
Now that you know our standards, you may wonder why every barbecue place gets a four-ribs rating. The answer is easy: our group has acclaimed designers, and they think the ribs graphic looks cool.
Who are we to argue? Enjoy.
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