[NutBrnHair]

My favorite BBQ place is Fresh Air BBQ, Jackson, GA

Here's part of an article from the Washington Post in 2004:

Fired Up Over a Tradition
Looking for Local Barbecue That Satisfies Savory Memories
Thursday, July 22, 2004


Barbecue is my ultimate comfort food.

It's the food I most associate with my parents, who seem to have had barbecue in their genes. Family reunions centered around barbecues: My mother's uncle hosted the annual Harper family gathering and led the crew that stayed up all night to cook a whole pig in a pit.

My father and his brother began frequenting Jackson, Ga.,'s Fresh Air Bar-B-Que not long after it opened in 1929. My uncle Cliff plotted his hunting and fishing trips around visits to Fresh Air, and in his later years a trip to Fresh Air was my ailing daddy's favorite outing. We children gathered there after his funeral.

When I was growing up, barbecue was the special treat on those rare occasions when our family of six didn't eat at home. Now I think it's in my genes.

And to me, real barbecue places should look like Fresh Air: a low-slung, unpainted wooden building, large stacks of wood outside, a sweet/acrid hickory aroma you can smell before you round the last curve, a parking lot that is as much sand as gravel, long communal tables with ladder-back chairs and those yellow-colored pest strips hanging from the ceiling. And, of course, a wooden screen door.

You don't go to Fresh Air for anything but barbecue, served either as a sandwich or a platter, with a paper cup of Brunswick stew and a paper cup of coleslaw, plus some slices of white bread. The pork is slow-cooked over hickory and oak, then pulled and chopped into small chunks that are anointed with a thin and spicy sauce prepared daily on an electric range that must be at least 30 years old.