We Avoid Cruella de Vil, Meet A Balloon Artist, And George Tells Trailheads to Drop Dead At Fox Bros.

On some hikes, it’s not the trails that are the adventure but the people you meet along the way.

 This week, we hiked the Lullwater Loop Trail by Emory University and almost assembled a whole crew, with Trail Master Guy back at the helm, leading George, Steve, Brad, and Patrick. Roy was a no-show because the bonehead had recklessly played pickleball the day before with his painful case of plantar fasciitis. He said he couldn’t hike because of his "ouchee." You don’t need Dr. House or Dr. Robby to diagnose this medical condition–the problem is in his head. It's called lack-of-brains-itis.

Pickleball is a killer, especially for stubborn die-hards.

We rallied in the parking lot and met a lovely woman with a Dalmatian. We sensed danger. This situation was bait for Cruella de Vil. Fio and Elvis were on high alert; maybe the mean lady had expanded her outerwear line to include their stylish pelts. We kept a watchful vigilance. 

The woman shared the fascinating backstory of the Dalmatian breed. In the Old West, dogs were used to run ahead of horse-drawn carriages and kill snakes. Horses hate snakes. They speak with forked tongues, have questionable morals, and never pay their gambling debts.

We, however, are fascinated by snakes. They are amazing creatures and valuable around the yard to take care of small vermin and salespeople.

Firemen also don't like snakes, so they soon adopted the spotted dogs to perform the same duty for their horse-drawn fire carriages. As a bonus, in the firehouse, they discovered that Dalmatians could also make a mean pot of chili and cornbread. Firemen have loved the dogs ever since. 

We began our journey down a large hill scattered with jagged, exposed roots that looked like wooden snakes slithering across the ground. Where was that Dalmatian when we needed him?

At the bottom of the hill was a creek; George struck a heroic pose. Later this month, he will premiere the film he has worked on for years. George deserves the hero treatment. Although we had no roses to toss, we applauded the auteur, and he took a well-deserved bow.

A woman from Chattapoochee Dog Hikes came down the trail with three leashed participants. Guy immediately talked to her. He gabs with every dog owner. After a minute, she said she had run–she needed to get a load out of the dryer. The dogs said they’d love to hang and chit-chat, but they had appointments to get their nails done.

Onward, the Trailheads trekked. It was Patrick’s first legitimate hike with hills and everything on his new, store-bought knee. It seemed to be holding up well, which was good because if he’d fallen, he would have been left behind- easy pickings for the hungry snakes that the Dalmatian chased away. 

We hiked uphill under a bridge, keeping a vigilant eye out for trolls. Trolls are the worst, especially when they target you on social media. They’re even worse than snakes.

Next up was a waterfall, which meant a photo op. Trail Master snapped a few pics, and a friendly couple approached.

We chatted with them. Holly is originally from Canada (elbows up!) and is a balloon artist. She was the first latex artisan we’ve met on the trails (you'd think we'd have met dozens of them, right?), and she was a delight.

Her companion, Tom, is a journalist and co-founder of the Decatur Book Festival. They are both involved with Burning Bones Physical Theatre (learn about it here).

We enjoyed talking with the balloonian-thespians and bragged that we acted like a hiking group. Patrick pimped his circus novel (get your copy here) and the Trailheads website (you are here!). 

Fio patiently waited for a good balloon show. She loves the inflated wiener dog and is a big fan of Jeff Koons' gigantic sculptures. When no dachshund balloons appeared, she slipped out of her leash in protest. Bad girl, bad girl!

Later, her desperado daddy couldn’t resist trespassing on the private residence of Emory’s President. Guy and Fio play by their own rules. They make a dangerous team. Consider the pair double trouble, and approach cautiously (and with a pocketful of balloons and full lungs to distract them).

The weather warmed up, and the hot dogs went for a dip. Hey, it was over 80 degrees, and they were wearing new suits for the season. Little did they know Cruella loves a clean coat.

We travelled down the road and talked about our love for Seth Rogan’s new show on Apple, The Studio. If you’re a movie fan jonesing for insider dish, this is your jam (that’s how the kids talk these days—consarn it all!).

Our fierce hunger screamed that it was belly-feeding time, so we started to head back to the cars. Brad’s daughter, Cooper, and her partner, John, were visiting from California and were meeting us at the original Fox Bros. location on DeKalb Ave. Read about our last visit here.

We zipped there and secured eight seats on the patio. Miraculously, Roy said he would somehow rally from his injury and join us for lunch. It’s like the old saying goes: starve a cold, feed a plantar fasciitis. 

The eight of us gathered, reviewing the menus and daily specials. We immediately placed orders for chicken-fried spare ribs. These tasty treats are delivered with a side of defibrillator and a cardiologist who yells, “CLEAR!” as the paddles charge the chest.

The tasty battered meat sticks are so wrong. Patrick soon fell into a batter-fried oil coma, imagining he was sampling all the fried goodies at a county fair in the deepest Midwest.

As usual, the Fox Bros. were on point. Everything was delicious.

Brad's shirt said it all.

The pulled pork had a delectable smoked flavor. And Roy’s platter had enough of the good stuff for the table–but he wasn't sharing. He's recuperating! 

Ditto for chopped or sliced beef brisket. Slop on some famous Fox. Bros sauce, original or spicy, and get your face-shovelin’ on. This is the good stuff.

George had the spare ribs, and we were shocked when he declared them “tender, moist, and wonderful.” The connoisseur often harshly criticizes racks, finding most ribs “dry.”

The smoked chicken wings are the best anywhere. As you probably know by now, we like them extra crispy.

You should never miss the brisket chili here. There are no beans to get in your way of the beefy goodness. Dig your way to nirvana.

And the Brunswick stew is savory, although we’re not big fans of the lima beans. Keep those suckers in Lima, we say.

You’ll love the green beans studded with pork bits. It’s two courses in one.

Fox Bros.'s slaw is incredibly crunchy and sweet, and the fries are crinkly and crispy. And the okra? It’s still growing in the fields, so it’s unavailable. But when the green beauties arrive, they'll be battered and bathed in hot oil. They're fried nutrition.

Patrick begged everyone to look at him. We thought he was doing something stupid, like attempting a handstand or juggling greasy chainsaws, but he just wanted to snap pictures.

Guy went to the door and mugged in front of the Trailheads sticker he’d stuck on it long ago.

Roy and George got dinner-to-go orders for their wives. They like sharing the Trailheads’ barbecue experience.

As a celebrity, George had to bounce to record a podcast interview. As he left, he said, “Happy Trails, guys.” We were shocked. In Trailhead World, ‘Happy Trails’ is reserved to honor those important cultural icons who have passed away.

We decided we’d have to keep a watchful eye on George. He may be planning something.

Rating: Four Ribs*

Fox Bros. Bar-B-Q

1238 Dekalb Ave NE 

Atlanta, GA 30328

404 577-4030

foxbrosbbq.com

*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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