What is a walk and when does it graduate to become a hike? What constitutes a saunter? These are the pressing issues of our times. When Trailheads unite and move our bodies forward, we call it a hike because that sounds rugged and macho, and we think readers might assume we subsist on tins of beans and shave with Bowie knives. (And who, by the way, ever imagined Jim Bowie looked like that! We thought he’d resemble David Bowie.)
Since most of us are ex-pats from the marketing game, maybe we naturally embellish our expeditions out of habit. In other words, don't trust anything we say.
This week, Trailmaster selected a legitimate hike up by Woodstock. However, it would have taken an hour to get there and another hour to return. Trailheads began bellyaching, “We only have so many hours left and didn’t want to spend them on the road.” Guy surrendered and chose a closer journey—along the Northside Beltline Trail in Tanyard Creek Park in Collier Hills.
Everyone but George and Patrick hiked. George was busy with his documentary moviemaking. Ken Burns has seen his work and calls him “the new Ken Burns.” George countered, “Ken, you are the new George Hirthler.” A fistfight ensued. Unfortunately, no one filmed it.
Patrick is still on the disabled list, milking his total knee replacement. He’s walking, driving, doing P.T., and eating. He said he’d join us for lunch because he swears his surgeon prescribed barbecue for recuperation. Patrick may have been sedated he heard that.
Trailheads have never journeyed on The Atlanta Beltline before. It seemed too civilized. Too paved. We thought we might look silly hiking on concrete in our Trailheads gear, like a bunch of glorified mall walkers. We do always hike with a sack of Auntie Anne’s Pretzels.
But can one legitimately define a stroll on the sidewalk as a hike? YES, if you are a Trailhead. We are bipeds moving through an area with flora and fauna, and Steve has an app that can recognize the flora––fauna is on its own. Forward motion on a dirt trail or a swatch of cement is a hike in our book. And we’re the authors, so there. Case closed: we hiked!!!
The park has large expanses of grass where people bring their dogs to frolic. An old wooden train trestle has been replaced with a more substantial concrete and steel structure. Take that timber!
A wide concrete culvert carries what we believe was the overflow from Peachtree Creek, with a great deal of orange and green liquid that we think was water. It tasted wet like water, but had a funny aftertaste. Just in case, Fio and Elvis only went in the less colorful water for their dips.
We ventured off path occasionally for a woodsy feel to legitimize our “hike,” then we rejoined the cement trail as it went under Collier Road and emerged at Bitsy Grant Tennis Center. We’d all played tennis there before. The courts were busy and full of budding Maria Sharapovas.
It’s an excellent place for racquet and paddle sports with tennis, paddle ball, and pickleball courts. We resisted the urge to pickle and continued hiking to Bobby Jones Golf Course.
It’s a beautiful 9-hole course smack dab in the middle of the city. We didn’t walk the course or see Bobby Jones (maybe he took up pickleball). A security guy said that hiking the course wasn’t permitted and escorted us off the green, then off the property.
We moved along to Peachtree Creek, then doubled back to Tanyard Creek Park and our cars. This big sidewalk was teeming with dogs and their walkers. Fio and Elvis greeted each of them as if they were their long-lost litter mates. That slowed things down. Dogs love to talk.
We were hungry and headed down Collier Road to DAS BBQ, a favorite of ours with two locations (read about our last visit here). New knee Patrick met us, and we headed in. Steve Franklin, the pitmaster and owner, greeted us at the counter.
He recognized Trailheads from our previous visits and probably from our love of his revolutionary Barbecue Sauce Udder Dispensers, which were removed last year because some picky customers had concerns about whether they were sanitary—some people! Sauce Udders are a great idea ahead of their time. We even did a marketing campaign to bring them back. But as with many of our past ad campaigns, it did great at the awards shows but failed in the marketplace.
We love what these DAS BBQ folks do, so we loaded up on the smoked meats and sides.
Roy lives nearby and picks up dinner here regularly. He ordered a rib plate with slaw and collards. The ribs are meaty, smoky, satisfying. There’s lots of meat to be had here, and it’s a filling meal. The slaw is top-notch, and the collards are full of flavor. Just like grandma’s collards, if grandma made collards, which Roy’s grandma did not.
Guy went for the two-meat platter because he couldn’t choose just one. He got the ribs and brisket and loved them twice. Slaw and corn accompanied the meats.
Patrick loaded up with what looked like a pound of pulled pork, DAS BBQ’s exceptional creamed corn, and a hearty Brunswick Stew that’s so thick it’s best eaten with a fork—or a toothpick.
Brad also opted for the two-meat platter. He went with the slimming smoked turkey and paired it with the beef brisket, teamed with collards and corn. He’s Mr. Healthy is getting ready for Speedo weather!
Steve enjoyed his old reliable order––the pulled pork sandwich. He judges all barbecue joints by this standard fare. He had some of the famous creamed corn to keep his sandwich company.
We wrapped up lunch and decided our walk/saunter/hike/whatever was excellent and completely legitimate. Then we went home for a shave with our Bowie knives and listened to Ziggy Stardust.
Rating: Four Ribs*
DAS BBQ West Midtown
1203 Collier Rd NW
Atlanta, GA 30318
(404) 850-7373
*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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