4944 Lower Roswell Road, Marietta
Published on: 08/11/2005
Marietta joint perfects smoky, succulent meat dishes that stand on their own.
JOEY IVANSCO/STAFF | |||
| A side of three-cheese macaroni — rigatoni noodles swimming in cream and cheese — is a perfect match for BBQ1's tender shredded pork. | |||
JOEY IVANSCO/STAFF | |||
| Award-winning beef barbecue, nestled on a slab of Texas toast dabbed with butter, creates a mouth-watering sandwich at BBQ1. | |||
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TO MY MIND, there are two types of American barbecue: the kind that needs sauce, and the kind that doesn't. The second is by far superior to the first, simply by means of default.
Not one to knock sauce, I admit that it adds a certain je ne sais quois to the barbecue experience. My father's family owned a little chain of joints in Decatur, Clarkston, Tucker and Avondale Estates years back and consequently he makes the best sauce this side of the Mississippi. But his meat didn't need the sauce. If the meat actually needs the sauce, there's a problem.
This is the maxim by which I judge all barbecue, and it's what I was thinking one hot afternoon when my daughter and I ventured into Sam & Dave's BBQ1 on Lower Roswell Road. I use the term "ventured" loosely, since it took a half a tank of gas and three road maps to get me there from Decatur by way of Kennesaw.
Right away, my daughter, who is 8, was intrigued by the red, white and blue painted pig out front.
"A red, white and blue painted pig is always a good sign," I told her.
"A good sign of what?" she asked.
"A good sign that the meat won't need any sauce," I responded.
Sam & Dave's BBQ1 is owned and operated by Sam Huff, a lawyer at his day job and barbecue "hobbyist," David Poe (whose family owned the catering business Stump-n-Sons) and David Roberts, who between restaurant consulting and brokering organic vegetables has worked nearly everywhere — the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead, Mumbo Jumbo and Brasserie Le Coze.
The space is the size of a shoebox, probably to deter people from lingering, since it's really more of a takeout joint. There are a couple of tables flanked by a wall of fame that boasts a case of at least 30 trophies won at various barbecue championships across the state and nationally, mostly for beef.
Taped to the front of the case is a hand-written sign advertising "Pork University," a barbecue class that Huff teaches at his home one Saturday a month.
Beef is what I relish here: The brisket, even on an off day, is exceptionally good. (And I have relatives in Texas. Close relatives.) It has that crosshatched pattern across its grain that happens when muscle and fat meld, slow-cooked for hours until finally the edge is crowned with a dark, caramelized crust lined on the inside with a characteristic pink ring.
Ditto the pulled pork — more literally giant shreds of pork that are smoky, tender and rimmed in pink that gives way to brown.
Sandwiches are made with big slabs of Texas toast doused in butter (oh good, more fat!) with four or five hamburger dills smashed between the meat and the bread. It needs absolutely no sauce at all, but if you're lookin', go for the North Carolina vinegar-style found on the big table near the window. It's peppy, a little sweet and laced, albeit lightly, with chili peppers.
Order a beef short rib and you'll get a Fred Flintstone-like bone of a single beef rib, its caramelized surface almost completely charred black. Underneath is a sheath of pinkish striated meat and fat that pulls easily from the bone with a latent, sexy smokiness. It would be sinful to put sauce on this.
Other ribs disappoint. St. Louis-style spareribs can't be called tough, but they're meetin' tough in a minute. Baby backs are a little more tender, but end up chewy.
I know of few barbecue joints that make three-cheese macaroni-and-cheese the way BBQ1 does (few make it at all). The only folks I know who make mac-n-cheese like this are Italian: big rigatoni noodles drenched in cream and cheese. The beans are too sweet with molasses, but the coleslaw has gobs of diced cabbage, just the right balance of mayo and vinegar and a little bit of poppy seeds and crushed pineapple (who knew?).
Dave is looking to add some sweets, but for now makes the restaurant's chocolate chip cookies (A+) and peanut butter cookies (B+) as the only means of satisfying a craving for anything that doesn't oink or moo.
As I was packing away some Brunswick stew to take home, I noticed a piggy bank with "PETA contributions" written across the piggy's side. The other side explains, "People Eating Tasty Animals."
"Does the barbecue need sauce, Mommy?" my daughter asked as we packed the car with enough beef brisket to feed Coxey's Army.
"No honey, it doesn't," came my reply, eyeing the Styrofoam container on the back seat and wondering how I'll manage to reach it from the driver's seat for the long ride home.
SAM & DAVE'S BBQ1
Overall rating: ![]()
Food: Hey, it's barbecue, with beef being the best part.
Service: Since it's mostly takeout, it's usually Dave or Sam waiting on you. Both of them know barbecue and have a good sense of humor.
Setting: Small storefront in the "Antique Mall," with a few tables, Styrofoam plates and sweet tea so sweet it makes your teeth ache.
Address, telephone: 4944 Lower Roswell Road, Marietta, 770-977-3005
Hours: 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday, and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. (or until the barbecue runs out)
Price range: $
Credit cards: Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Discover
Best Dishes: Beef brisket, alone or in a sandwich, pulled pork (ditto), beef short ribs, macaroni and cheese
Full bar: No liquor
Reservations: Pre-ordering by phone is recommended
Vegetarian selections: Mac-n-cheese, coleslaw, baked beans
Children: Great spot for kids
Parking: Adjacent lot<
Wheelchair access: No bathroom access
Smoking: Nonsmoking
Noise level: Low
Patio: Yes
Takeout: Yes
Restaurants that do not meet these criteria are rated Poor.
Pricing code: $$$$ means above $35; $$$ means $20-$35; $$ means $10-$20; $ means $10 or less. ® means reservations accepted.


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