Trailheads Forget To Take A Selfie, Brad’s Car Locks Him Out, And Steve Watches Us Flip The Food Pyramid At NFA Burger.

Spring is beautiful in Atlanta. After the heavy pollen season comes a lighter pollen season, followed by the lots-of-nasty-allergy-triggering-crap-still-in-the-air season.

Our cars are coated. Our tongues are pasted with pollen. Our eyes are filled with it. Our noses are clogged with it. So, Trailheads grabbed their Kleenex and decided to go attack the great outdoors.

This week, on a cool, clear, yellow-coated day, Trail Master Guy led Steve, Brad, and Patrick on a trek on the Gold Branch Trail along the Chattahoochee River and Bull Sluice Lake. Read about a previous hike here. Dedicated eaters Roy and George said they’d join us for lunch.

George learned recently that his documentary about the ’96 Atlanta Olympic Games, The Games in Black & White, received four Southeast Emmy nominations. We’re proud of our filmmaking Trailhead friend and wish him the best.

He deserves the prestigious gold trophies, even though he’ll probably have to donate them to President Trump, who’s not looking so hot in the Nobel Peace Prize competition these days.

Threatening to destroy a civilization on Easter morning tends to do that, even if you are the self-designated leader of the Board of Peace. Fortunately, George always wears his belt with the peace sign buckle. All civilizations are safe with him. But his trophies won’t be with greedy orange, bruised hands around.

We began our hike, watching our feet carefully. Gold Branch Trail has many ways to trip the unsuspecting. Even the suspecting. There are elevations with exposed tree roots and rocks waiting to take you down. So, always mind your steps, kiddies. Good thing Roy Tumbles is off the trail.

The dogs went down to the river and took a refreshing dip. It’s like they rediscover water every time they see a river.

There were many people out walking dogs, and Guy tried talking with all of them. Some even talked back. We stopped and spoke with a friendly young woman walking her pair of Weimaraners. They are short-haired German hunting dogs– why they hunt Germans is a mystery. Fio and Elvis, mixed breeds, bowed to the pedigreed dogs as if they were royalty.

The photographer William Wegman was famous for artsy-farts portraits of his Weimaraners. Show-off. Apparently, this breed likes to play dress-up.

Trail Master Guy is famous for his selfies of the hikers he leads, but he didn’t assemble a group shot on this adventure. It was a first. Was he embarrassed by his ragtag legion of gripers? Or did it just slip his big-headed mind, like, you know, something or other–that word for the thing—you know the one?

Regardless, instead of a group shot of the four hiking Trailheads, we’ll provide this image of another Fab Four. We concede maybe that band had more impact on the world than this little group of hiking ne’er-do-wells has. Show-offs.

There was a heron fishing in the lake without a boat or a six-pack. We had no idea that was possible. Isn’t nature something?

We surveyed the map, decided to head back, and texted George and Roy our lunch plans. When we returned to the parking lot, Brad discovered his key fob wasn’t working, and he was locked out of his all-electric Fisker. Was this Elon’s revenge for leaving the Tesla family? Could be. The man plays for keeps.

Trailheads journeyed to NFA Burger in Dunwoody (read its amazing history here). Brad got on Facebook and posted a message in the Fisker Owners Group about fixing his car, the Ocean model. Owners have been helping one another with issues since the Fisker company went bankrupt. (Possibly because Brad bought one.)

Brad headed to the CVS next door for a new key fob battery, and Roy joined us. Although he’s no longer hiking, Roy still has a powerful appetite for eating. We ordered our lunches and sat at a picnic table outside. George was too busy answering all the cards, letters, and congratulatory messages about his nomination to bother with lunch.

Steve is on a limited red meat diet, and there was nothing on the menu even remotely healthy–– is that why we love this place so much? Steve said he’d eat something healthy later, and he watched us pig out.

NFA Burger is all about tasty food. Smash burgers, fried on a hot griddle to form meat candy—flavorful, crunchy morsels made by the fried fat and seasoning. Everyone ordered Billy’s Classic, two beef patties smashed, American cheese, pickles, mustard, and special sauce on a potato bun. One bite and you will instantly declare it your favorite burger. NFA Burgers are nationally famous and dominate the local burger scene. Yes, they’re that good.

For potato eaters, you can choose tasty tater tots or French fries, both cooked in tallow. RFK, Jr. says Americans need more tallow in their diets, along with lots more red meat. He flipped the food pyramid! Why won’t Steve follow his healthy-living tips? Sure, Steve does the RFK, Jr.-Kid Rock exercise videos wearing nothing but his blue jeans, but he seems to be ignoring their knowledgeable dietary advice.

Billy Kramer, the owner and namesake of Billy’s Classic Burger, came out delivering bags of goodness to the masses waiting at picnic tables under the trees. We informed him of Steve’s dietary dilemma and asked if he had anything for our friend. He said the healthiest thing he could offer was a grilled cheese sandwich, which is also not on Steve’s approved eating list. The pickles are the closest you’ll get to something green at NFA Burger.

We finished our meals and attempted to fix the world, but we got tired and decided to tackle the countless global issues later. But for now, we needed our naps.

Brad received a tip in his Facebook post about resetting the Fisker by pressing “the PKC button” located in the back of the car. Brad had a new fob battery and a helpful tip. Did the PKC trick work? Look at his face--what do you think?

Rating: Four Ribs*

NFA Burger 

5465 Chamblee Dunwoody Rd.

Dunwoody, GA 30338

(Inside the Chevron station)

nfaburger.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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