Four Trailheads Get Their Degrees In Hiking At Emory U – Then All Six Punch Their BBQ Meal Tickets At Community Q.

Trailheads don’t cotton much to no book learnin’. Readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmetic ain’t exactly our strong suits. We’re more vibey kind of dudes, living by our half-wits and dead-end street smarts, and if we can’t work things out peaceful-like, then we ball our fists and settle matters with knuckles of truth.

Patrick and Steve are known as “The Rumble Brothers.” Some call it jungle law. We call it survival of whoever can run fastest (we usually beat our soles on the pavement at the first signs of trouble and scream loudly with our arms flailing heroically).

Even though we’re not big on educational matters, we decided to hike alongside prestigious Emory University, where brainiacs go to feed their gray matter. Trailheads met in the parking lot of the Hahn Woods Trail, and Trail Master Guy led Brad, Steve, and Patrick down the hill into the welcoming, warm bosom of Mother Earth (she’d slap us silly if we went blue with this writeup, so we’ll keep it clean). 

We walked along the bank of South Peachtree Fork Creek, and the dogs went for a dip. The water looked too cold for us, but the view was beautiful.

Many people were enjoying the weather, including a mother and her adorable daughter who wanted to pet the dogs. Fio and Elvis looked at each other. 

“We’ve got to give our fans what they want,” Fio said.

“Yeah,” Elvis agreed. “Can’t forget the little people.”

“Especially when they’re little.” 

The dogs put on their best show but drew the line at signing autographs.

“I don’t want to see our precious scribbles for sale on eBay,” Elvis said.

The Trailheads continued down to the spillway, where water and rocks combine for a picturesque scene.

Naturally, we took a selfie to spoil the view. You’ll remember last week Guy forgot to do his signature “big-head” selfie with the group. We were inundated with cards, letters, emails, and missives begging for a return to tradition. People missed our mug shots.

We noticed the water above the spillway appeared solid, thanks to all the litter floating on its surface. Patrick dunked his head below the terra-crappa and refueled. “This water tastes a little funny,” he said, as a water snake slithered out of his mouth.

Soon, we saw some cool graffiti. We’re fans of this art form but forgot to pack our cans of spray paint this trip. The hikers discussed our excitement for the evening’s finale episode of The Pitt, because we’re worried sick about Dr. Robby. He needs to care for himself—STAT!

Marching onward, we merged onto the Lullwater Loop Trail (read about a previous adventure here). 

The path led to a walkway along Candler Lake, where we saw Emory students walking to classes or whatever it is they do in college besides not calling their parents as often as they should. We spent much of our higher education getting schooled in dark bars, where we learned valuable lessons like “don’t bet on the game of guessing the number a stranger is thinking of.” Guesses were always close, but never moneymakers. This game of chance is a fast way to lose cash.

We beheld the beauty of Candler Lake and began doubling back for lunch, alerting Roy and George of our eating plans. Roy spent the morning re-alphabetizing his record collection (AABA leads the way, just ahead of ZZAPPA), and George was on a call with the Olympic Committee, pitching hiking as a new team sport.

Brad observed that some radical college kids had posted a war protest sign. We looked around for John and Yoko in bed, but it was a no go on that. We’re big believers in peace. It’s in our charter. We peacefully walked our ravenous hungers back to the cars. 

Trailheads rendezvoused on the fringes of Decatur for lunch at one of our favorite joints, Community Q BBQ (read about a previous visit here).

Our two missing members, George and Roy, came running to join us for grub, and the six Trailheads united in support of barbecue and feeding our faces. 

Community Q BBQ is a comfortable space that has built a loyal following of barbecue fans.

In the bathroom, there are valuable instructions on how to wash your hands (the secret is soap and water). On The Pitt, Dr. Robby cheats by using hand disinfectant. Is it any wonder we worry so much about that troubled soul?

We ordered our lunches and grabbed a table out front.

The lovely server brought our food, struck a pose, and we dug in. 

What’s good here? Everything. You cannot go wrong at Community Q. The brisket sandwich is huge, with a two slabs of golden, griddled Tex Toast struggling to contain an embarrassment of smoky beef love.

Looking for something a little different? Try the Sloppy Joe, brisket dressed in a tangy tomato sauce. It’s terrific. And not as sloppy as you might imagine.

Maybe you’re eating healthier. Fine, get some smoked chicken. George enjoyed the half-chicken dinner, and it tasted as beautiful as it looked.

You can also have delicious pulled chicken breast in a hearty sandwich. It’s all tender and all satisfying–– poultry ecstasy.

If you crave ‘the other white meat’, the pulled pork is always on point and a solid choice for feeding the beast within. 

The sides also deliver the goods. Slaw is cool and crispy, the perfect palate cleanser for more of the main event.

Baked Beans are seasoned perfectly and come with some meaty goodness.

The Collard Greens are also excellent, with pork added for good measure. 

The fries were golden and crispy, dusted with seasoning.

And Black-Eyed Peas get a flavor boost from rosemary and bacon. How about that, food fans?

The soup of the day was also great:  smoked chicken and wild rice. As the Campbell Kids say, “Soup is good food” (to which we add, especially when it doesn’t come in cans). 

Six Trailheads sat around, chewed the fat, and laughed like silly goons as the surrounding people moved farther away. Although we were only four hikers, we became six unified eaters. We have our priorities.

Rating: Four Ribs*

Community Q BBQ

1361 Clairmont Rd

Decatur, GA 30033

(404) 633-2080

communityqbbq.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. nj Ounr 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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