Welcome to the living room:

It’s pretty roomy and not too unique, but it leads to the kitchen which has an avacado-green oven, range and venthood!:

The owner even kept the manual for the range:

Attached to the kitchen is the family room which is also roomy and semi-normal:

From there you can see the backyard which has one big oak that has swallowed a metal hook and is home to a strange, huge fern as well as some Spanish moss:

The 2nd bedroom is nothing crazy, but the guest bathroom has some interesting decor to go along with the squash-yellow (or is it “Harvest-Gold”) toilet and sink which are not pictured:

And finally, my coup de coeur, the delightfully gaudy master bedroom & bath:

Not pictured: the avacado-green sink and tub.

A few friends and contractors have encouraged us to remodel (or “at least take down the wallpaper”) but if we ever do, we’ll have to sell or donate it to something. We can’t simply trash these amusing trends.  In the meanwhile, this house and it’s decor are a blast. =)

Update:  Just heard from a friend that Jano and Carissa are ok, that they got picked up by someone from the US Embassy and are on their way back to Santiago!  Hallelujah!

A common problem with rice bread is it can be dry and grainy, kind of like corn bread (here’s a full scientific analysis for the *really* curious – there’s x-ray diffraction and calorimetry involved! Yay!), but the addition of instant mashed potatoes sounded like an interesting, feasible, affordable answer to that problem.

I made some substitutions the first time around – namely using almond milk on hand instead of the dry milk recommended and tapioca starch instead of potato starch flour (reckless substitutions, I know, but it was too late to go to the store, which wouldn’t have had potato starch flour anyway).

I also had some store-bought tzatziki in the fridge and threw in a couple tablespoons of that and one or two of mayo in hopes of balancing the thinness of the almond milk.  The loaf came out crumbly (like cornbread) but still very tasty.  Dad and I agreed it was like a lighter, softer, butterier corn bread with a bit of an herbal twist from the tzatziki.

It would have perfectly complimented a bowl of hot chili, so you can guess what went into the crock pot the next morning.

That afternoon I picked up some dry powdered milk and tried the recipe again, using the dry milk and adding a little more of the mashed potato flakes. The loaf was scheduled to finish in time with the slow-cooking chili and what a great combo they turned out to be!  The changes to the recipe made a huge difference.  The bread tasted nearly the same – full and savory – but the texture was so much smoother! The loaf came out with insides warm, buttery, soft and springy and with a slightly stiffer, almost pastry-like top crust.

I’ve baked this recipe several times in the past two weeks and rarely does the finished loaf last more than an hour or two, despite our best efforts to save some for the next meal.  How neat it feels to welcome bread back into my life. It’s been awhile since I’ve had normal wheat flour bread so maybe the memories have faded, but this loaf, for me, tops any bread I can recall.  If nothing else, it’s a wonderfully refreshing moment savoring those first slices of a warm, just-baked homemade loaf of bread.  Yum.

Here’s the modified recipe:

Rice Bread

Makes one large loaf

Ingredients:

1 1/4 c rice flour

5 tbsp tapioca starch

1 pkg yeast

1 tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 c dry powdered milk

1 tbsp baking powder

1/4 c instant mashed potato flakes

1 1/4 c hot water

2 tbsp softened butter

1 tbsp tzatziki (optional)

2 eggs beaten

Directions:

- Combine flour and starch. Put 1 cup of flour/starch mixture into separate mixing bowl.

- Add yeast, sugar, salt, dry powdered milk & baking powder to mixing bowl. Mix.

- In separate container, combine instant mashed potato flakes and hot water. Whip with fork.

-Add potato mixture, softened butter and tzatziki to dry ingredients. Beat for three minutes.

- Add remaining flour and eggs. Beat another three minutes.

- Cover bowl with towel and let dough rise for one hour.

- Beat risen dough just enough to remove large gas bubbles.

- Pour into greased loaf pan, cover and let rise another 30 minutes.

- Bake in preheated 325 degree oven for about 30-35 minutes or until lightly browned.

Substitutions I plan to try include using potato starch (or potato starch flour if I can ever find either) in place of the tapioca starch (you could probably substitute corn starch, too) and using plain Greek-style yogurt or mayo in place of the tzatziki.  I’ll update this post when I try those out.

And to those of you who have never baked a loaf of bread before, try this recipe!  It’s relatively easy and very rewarding.  If you need convincing, visit me and I’ll bake you a sample.

——-

Footnote: For the sake of the post’s title, I wish I had baked a bun first instead.  Ah, life’s little missed opportunities.

We ate thus: Lunch was frozen turkey burger patties grilled on the George Foreman Lean Mean, etc.  with whatever condiments we found in the fridge (luckily we still had some cheese slices and fresh spinach leafs – our regular lettuce stand-in).  Dinner for Dad was a last link of spicy sausage sliced & pan-cooked then mixed with a heated can of black-eyed peas, topped with vanilla yogurt (his idea, not mine).  For me, it consisted of Skippy Natural Creamy Peanut Butter dregs, meticulously scraped from the hard-to-reach parts of the plastic jar with a small, worn, jagged-edged spatula, which was then redirected across a surface scattered with mini chocolate chips, picking them up metal-filings-to-magnet style. (Peanut butter and chocolate were always meant to be together anyways.)

Needless to say, several hours later we were still hungry and though I had finally OD’ed on peanut butter over the past few days, those chocolate chips roused a hearty sweet tooth in me.  Now the challenge at hand: bake something sweet and tasty using only the pantry’s dwindling supplies.

The raw baking ingredients inventory: almost a cup of rice flour, a couple cups of white sugar, a cup of brown sugar, cocoa, dry powdered milk, honey, instant mashed potato flakes (an amazing gluten-free flour substitute I’ll explain in another post), and about 2 tbsp left of mini chocolate chips remaining. Luckily we had a few eggs, some butter and almond milk available in the fridge and some common spices in the cupboard.

I also had some sweet potatoes I’ve been meaning to fix, but had postponed because Dad doesn’t like them.  However with the idea of warm, buttery sweet potatoes suddenly and firmly lodged in my mind, there was little he could do to prevent the use of our limited resources on this experiment.  While he relayed his doubts: “Sweet potatoes? I don’t knooooooow…”, I Googled “Sweet Potato Cookies”, browsed recipes and settled on this one.

I cut the recipe in half for a trial run and omitted the nuts, raisins, baking soda, allspice and flour (as I didn’t have any of those ingredients), instead substituting rice flour, instant mashed potato flakes, more baking powder, cinnamon and nutmeg.

All told, the recipe came out like this:

Sweet Potato Cookies!

1/4 c butter
1/2 c brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 c mashed sweet potato
1/4 c instant mashed potato flakes
1 c rice flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp nutmeg
1/8 tsp cinnamon
1/4 c almond milk
2 tbsp chocolate chips

Cream together all ingredients except milk and chocolate chips. Mix in milk a little at a time. Stir in chocolate chips. Drop by the spoonful onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake in a 300 degree oven for 15 minutes or until brown.

I fixed half the dough with the chocolate chips:

and half without, dusted with cinnamon instead:

Though they lack that texture common to wheat flour-based cookies, it’s supplanted with a soft, spongy structure that I doubt I’ve ever encountered in a cookie before; it’s a springy treat! You can taste the sweet potato, but it emerges from the encompassing tastes quite a bit milder than that of just a baked sweet potato. Dad, The Sweet Tater Hater, really enjoyed them! They’re interesting, light and delicately delicious, plus they’re quick and easy to make so I’ll definitely be revisiting them. Like BeetLoaf, it’s a wonderfully sweet surprise from an unexpected vegetable source. Hope you enjoy!

Thanks to the long weekend, Mom was able to fly to Florida to help crew for the race.  On Friday we met up with some friends to caravan to Sebring:  Dad rode with Matt, his wife Lisa, their son Trevor and Matt’s Aero, while Mom and I toted Dad’s Aero and three beautiful black Corsas: Lisa’s, Trevor’s and mine.

After a quick carpool down from the St. Pete area, we registered for the race at the Sheraton next to the raceway, had some dinner and settled into our motel for a night’s rest.  My alarm when off a little before 4am Saturday morning and I headed straight for the room’s lamentably tiny coffee maker.  Dad – the one of us without the caffeine habit – popped right out of bed and started getting ready.  He hadn’t slept all night, but apparently this is normal for him the night before a race.  Yikes!

We arrived at the track a bit before 5:30 and started prepping our bikes, fuel, water and tailboxes.

We were scheduled to start at 6:30, ride a few laps around the track then head out on the long loop and after completing the track laps and the long loop, we would have ridden 100 miles.

At registration the night before, each rider was given a number to affix to their bike or clothing, a poker chip with their number on it (to toss into a bucket at the long loop turnaround checkpoint), and a little blue timing chip that hangs from the front wheel quick-release skewer and registers the time of each lap:

Everyone lined up at the start after initially registering their timing chip, and in the dark it was quite a flashy show of taillights, headlights, LED blinkies and reflectors:

This was my first race, so I lined up near the back and took a leisurely start.  Supposedly there was a lead vehicle, but I wasn’t anywhere near the front and so can’t comment on that.

Eventually they redirected us out to the open road, and other than the cold, the nasty headwind and an 8 mile wrong-turn detour, it was a wonderful ride.  The route leads out into the countryside and zigzags through cattle ranches and orange orchards so the ambient aromas alternated between the lovely scent of orange zest in the morning dew and that all-too-familiar smell from the Texas roads we’re used to: wet cow poo.

The fast group (which included my Dad!) rolled in from the long loop, finishing that initial 100 miles in about 4 hours and 45 min.  I took a lot longer: about 7 hours 20 minutes (fyi, you can sing a lot of songs to yourself over 7 hours, but it helps if you or at least the cows know the lyrics).

After completing the long loop, we were sent out to do as many short loops (at 11.7 mi each) as we could before 5:45pm, at which time we were redirected onto the raceway to do as many laps on the track as possible (at 3.7 mi each) until 6:30pm for the 12 hour riders, or 6:30am for the 24 hour riders.

During a break between two of the short loops, Mom introduced me to a man named Jim who was crewing for another Bacchetta rider.  He recognized me from this blog, and I don’t think he knew how much it thrilled me to know I have a reader I’m not related to. (Although, Family, I am delighted that you read my stories. And know that I certainly enjoy yours. That means you, Uncle John!) Yesterday Jim emailed me some pictures he took during the event. Hopefully he won’t mind if I repost them here:

Taken by Jim Dibble

Taken by Jim Dibble

He’s got more great photos of the race posted on a Fickr slideshow. Thanks for posting them Jim!

And here are a few from my mom:

After I finished the 12-hour race (I did 154 miles officially and 162 counting the bonus miles), Mom continued to crew for Dad while I hit the awards ceremony then took Matt and Lisa up on the offer to use the shower in their hotel room.   Partially thawed and slightly refreshed I hobbled back over to the pit, helped crew for a couple of Dad’s laps, then passed out on the floor of the minivan for about six hours.  Mom woke me around 2am to trade off – she slept while I crewed for Dad the remainder of the race.

Highlights of the night’s downtime included listening to an Italian rider’s crew yell at him in Italian and listening to nearby Bacchetta crew people joke about the different misnomers they’ve encountered for recumbents: “What’s up with those incumbent bikes?” “Well, the problem is when the party isn’t yours…” and “How about those recombinant bikes?” “It’s that unnatural DNA…” What a great group. =)

Dad hit his goal of 400 miles with plenty of time to spare and only a handful of riders remaining on the track.  He went back out to ride several more laps, came in for a break to thaw his hands in front of a propane-fueled heater, then headed out again. When we could no longer defrost his completely immobile fingers, he finally called it a night. Or morning. Or whatever.  All told he rode about 427 miles.

They held the award ceremony for the 24-hour racers around 7am Sunday. Dad won first in his division (55-59, male, recumbent) and 3rd (we think) overall (the final results haven’t officially been posted online yet, but some unofficial results can be found here).

Especially amazing were all the females riding recumbents in the 24-hour race:  Sarah Kay Carrell, Sandy Earl, Shellene Foster and Peggy Petty were unbelievable! Go ladies, go!

With the race over, the awards distributed and the sun back in the sky, we called to wake up Matt, Lisa and Trevor, then started packing up for the ride home.  While we were prepping for the return trip, Sebring was gearing up for another day of racing:

We eventually got on the road and though Dad and I had the best of intentions to stay awake and help keep our drivers alert, we both passed out shortly into the ride home.  Ah well.

And after unpacking everything upon our return we had the best of intentions to stay awake and do our ride reports, but shortly into our time home we both passed out for a good 8-9 hour nap.  Between 9 and 10pm we managed to crawl out of bed for a few hours before passing out for another full night’s sleep.  Now we are fully rested and working on recovering.  With some tender care to our joints, we’ll be back on the bikes mid-week, ready to do more centuries.

With a lot more training, I hope to log 200+ miles in next year’s 12-hour race, and there’s no telling what Dad will do.  Between now and then we’ll just keep riding as often and as far as possible.

Maybe it’s time to start thinking about that New York trip again…

Oh, and for those of you who are counting, some Quick Stats:

Stampedes: 0 (for local Sebring cows, this bike invasion is annual – nothing surprises them)

Roadside Pees: 1

]]> http://www.ifyouwerewondering.com/wordpress/2010/02/bike-your-heart-out/feed/ 0 http://www.ifyouwerewondering.com/wordpress/2010/02/bring-it/ http://www.ifyouwerewondering.com/wordpress/2010/02/bring-it/#comments Sat, 13 Feb 2010 03:07:35 +0000 admin http://www.ifyouwerewondering.com/wordpress/?p=1164 Just a quick post tonight cause tomorrow morning is the big race: Bike Sebring!  We’ve been riding a lot in the weeks leading up to this, did more than a few centuries and several 60-80 mile rides.  Dad’ll be doing the 24hr drafting event alongside many of the Bacchetta greats, and I’ll be doing the 12 hr drafting event, spinning the pedals as I watch the clouds go by.

Ok, maybe not that laid back, but as this is my first racing event and I hope to do over 140 miles, I’ll be taking it a little easy to make sure I can last the full 12 hours.  (I can imagine the 24hr riders chuckling at me, but you gotta start somewhere, right?) =)

Probably my biggest achievement in the past month has been the evolution of my biking food: the power brownies!  The recipe, which began as this, ended up as this:

Ingredients:

1/2 c butter

3/4 c sugar

3/4 c agave syrup

1/2 c milk

4 tbsp cocoa powder

—–

1/4 tsp almond extract

1 tsp vanilla extract

3/4 c peanut butter

—–

1/2 c pecan meal

1/2 c flax seed meal

1/2 c rice flour

2 tbsp cinnamon

2 scoops protein powder (optional

dash ascorbic acid (optional)

dash citric acid (optional)

—–

1 egg

Directions:

- Melt butter, sugar, agave, milk and cocoa powder in pot until boiling. Boil one min. Remove from heat.

- Combine butter mixture with peanut butter and almond & vanilla extracts. Stir until blended.

- Add in pecan meal, flax seed meal, rice flour, cinnamon, protein powder, ascorbic and citric acids.  Stir until blended.

- Add egg and stir until blended.

- Drop about a tbsp of batter in each cup of bite-sized brownie pan. Bake at 325 for 10-15 min, or until centers are visibly set.

I was able to ride over 80 miles on those alone without any problems.  Hopefully they’ll come in handy tomorrow. Wish us luck!

————

My Saturday morning in Montreal started out wonderfully with an hour of training Kali at Philip Gelinas’ school.  The class was great! His technique was fluid and powerful, his instruction interesting and clear, and his students kind and talented.  I wish I could have stayed longer. Hopefully I’ll have the chance to train with him again someday. Unfortunately, my friend and I had other plans to see more of Montreal, so we thanked Phil and his students, got cleaned and changed, then went in search of food.

Someone we met earlier in the trip had recommended one restaurant to my friend.  Supposedly it was nearby, but it was only after half an hour of walking around in the below freezing weather that we finally found the restaurant several blocks away from where we thought it’d be. It turned out to be a breakfast place serving lots of pancakes and bread and fruit and syrup; we had hoped for something more substantial, so we asked for recommendations and set out again into the cold.

We repeated this sequence six or seven times and every restaurant we checked out was either closed or a deli-style sandwich shop.  We added an additional 20 city blocks to our first 8-10 on what we had expected to be a 3 block walk and still hadn’t found what we were looking for.

I had only dressed for a quick downtown stroll – leggings, jeans, undershirt, shirt, sweater, wool coat, wool socks, cotton socks, boots, hat, hood and leather gloves (you’d think that’d be enough) – and the cold, having penetrated my clothes, was working it’s way down to my bones.  My friend (who hadn’t even brought his gloves) was feeling a little frosty too. So with our stomachs growling angrily, we broke down and hailed a cab.

We told the driver what we were looking for and he, of course, knew just the place.  When he began to rave about how the restaurant had signed photos of all the famous people who have eaten there, I started to worry.

He dropped us off at the curb just past Schwartz’s Deli (”World Famous Smoked Meat”).  As we were exiting the cab he proudly said we would probably have to wait in line for a table.  Ok, not a prob–  Wait, that line of people piling up OUTSIDE the building? @&*$.

Let’s recap:  a cabbie picks up two people, obviously – visibly - freezing, talking about how cold they are and how much they want a big plate of hot meat, then takes them to a restaurant where he knows they will have to wait outside.  Probably a good intention, just not really thought through.

Moving on:  once inside the teeny restaurant, we shared an elbow-to-elbow table with four people from Toronto (I think) who actually turned out to be really kind and fun to talk to.  The smoked brisket was nice considering we were still thawing out, and though it tasted alright it was a little dry.  They had mustard and steak sauce available at every table because the meat needed it.  Our tablemates asked us excitedly if we liked the meal, and I said it was good but, unfortunately, I’m a terrible liar.  My friend apologized for me though: “She’s from Texas and I forget that it’s hard to impress her when it comes to beef.”

And that got me dreaming about Lockhart brisket and Elgin sausage. About the tender barbecue brisket of Kreuz Market (”No Sauce, No Forks”). About how the restaurant compromises and offers a seasoning salt (delicious enough to eat on it’s own) meant for those who have never tasted perfect brisket and are in the habit of blindly putting something on their beef before sampling it.  Thankfully, new Kreuz customers usually show up with a friend or family member who’s a returning customer; someone who invariably acts as a guide and who has to remind the newcomers how each person must inevitably wrestle with their own decision of whether to mix the independently perfect tastes of meat and seasoning or eat them separately.  How most of us have to try a little of both.

But back to Montreal and Schwartz’s.  Uh, the fries were excellent.  And the dill pickles were good.  Tasty ketchup, too.

After being shuffled out to make room for those literally standing out in the cold, we realized we weren’t far from the hotel and decided to make the walk back, having warmed up a bit from the body heat of those who had been sitting within inches of us.  The walk, though chilly, proved worth it because we happened upon this:

an amazingly complex, detailed graffiti mural of “Aliens” aliens (and maybe some others mixed in for variety. I’m nerdy, but not that much of a Sci-Fi movie buff. All apologies.) Here’s a closeup:

Beautiful, no?  (And gruesome. I know, I know.)

Naturally, we had to stop to take pictures of Batman:

Ahem. Of BATMAN.

Thank you.

After returning to the hotel, spent most of the rest of the night inside, except for an excursion for Tequila which ended up necessitating 3 cab rides.  Apparently liquor stores close sometime around 5pm or 6pm on Saturday afternoons.  That is not a typo. (Oh Quebec, how I’ve come to loathe you.)

After that, it was an early night.  Thanks to my first stint on Priceline, my flight left at 6:35am, so I was up by 3:30am to be at the airport 2ish hours in advance.  With the low volume of passengers travelling at those pre-dawn hours it would have been plenty of time, however the airport had everyone waiting in a series of six lines.  One line to get bag tags (suddenly carryons aren’t allowed – only one personal item), one line to have your carryons sent downstairs, one line for preliminary ID and boarding pass screening, one line for regular security (metal detector, xray the bags, random screening, etc.), one line for customs (which actually turned out nicely as we didn’t have to deal with it after landing in the States), and another line for more security (full pat-downs and thorough searches of personal items for everyone! yay!).

If you count the lines you had to stand in at security and customs after standing in the big line, it’s actually eight lines total.

Montreal, we need to talk.

Prior to yesterday, my record on the Corsa was 75 miles in one day, but yesterday we went on a long ride, and it ended something like this (please excuse the terribly fuzzy cell phone pics):

We’ll be aiming for another one this weekend and more in the following weeks.  Sebring, here we come.

After viewing the forecast two weeks ago, a trip to snow-blanketed Montreal sounded more appealing than biking in Lycra in Florida’s below-freezing conditions.  The trip was a short one but it did have a number of highlights.  For instance, the hotel room had a nice view of downtown Montreal – good for guests and crimefighters alike:

and more importantly, the room had a wonderful heater (considering that it got down to around minus 20 C, factoring wind chill, during the daytime.)

I arrived Thursday night and had arranged to participate in a class at Philip Gelinas’ school, The Gelinas Academy of Mixed Martial Arts, Saturday morning.  I have always heard wonderful things about his fighting style as well as his teaching abilities and reveled at the opportunity to meet and train with him.  So the day before the class, my friend and I stopped by the gym to scout out the location and preview the facilities.  After introducing ourselves and promising to return the next day, we headed out to explore more of downtown Montreal and stumbled upon a gem right across the street from the academy.

We walked around the side of the St James United Church then, out of curiosity, decided to peek inside. The interior immediately stunned us.  Numerous stained glass windows lining the side and back walls aided a huge central chandelier in gently lighting the large, deep, vaulted space. Radiating ranks of rich, well-oiled wood shone in the diffused light, each pew polished gradually over the years by the caresses of countless patrons navigating the rows, by grasps stabilizing those devoted bodies politely invited to rise and be seated time and again.  Even the aged cushions – still stuffed with horsehair – whispered hints of endurance and faith.

Without a doubt, however, the focus of the quiescent room was the magnificent pipe organ.

As we wandered around, a professional organist practicing his repertoire floated the huge space with gentle melodies, while slowly flooding the room with imperceptibly crescendoing layers of chords.  We later found out he isn’t the regular organist for the church – his normal church was closed and his organ inaccessible – and that St. James makes a regular habit of offering it’s facilities to musicians like him.

While marveling over the majestic display of pipes, my friend and I got into a disagreement over the mechanics of the organ.  Although I was (partially) wrong I’m glad it happened because to resolve the argument we turned to a nearby docent in a pastor’s beard & sweater who had been strolling up and down the aisles, awaiting just such a circumstance.  Delighted at the question and our interest, he described the organ’s design as well as this particular organ’s history.  He invited us to view it (and the organist) up close while describing it’s functions. The organist paused his performance to demonstrate the instrument’s ability and potential alongside the docent’s descriptions.  Apparently, when they (pardon the pun) pull out all the stops and employ the largest, lowest-toned pipes (which are made of wood rather than metal), the sound literally shakes the plaster off the walls of the sanctuary.

Our docent continued to give us a guided tour of the expansive church.  He showed us the rooms for their myriad charitable programs for the homeless and needy, including an impressively efficacious art and writing program, a soup kitchen, food bank, mission office, and a day lounge where those living on the streets were invited to repose and congregate during Montreal’s days – the temperatures of which are often below freezing.  We thanked our guide while stressing how moving it was to witness a church offer such stable, useful, functional charitable efforts.  Upon exiting, we both agreed, “This is what a church SHOULD be.”

We continued our meandering into the Old Town section of Montreal and stopped by the city’s basilica, Notre Dame:

but found out they charge a fee for entry.  After the experience at St. James, it just didn’t seem worth it.  So we continued our tour of downtown and Old Town:

and after breaking down to buy some warm hats and postcards, we retired to Stash Cafe, a Polish restaurant in Old Town, to warm up with some comforting soup: borsch (beet soup) for me & flaki (tripe soup) for my friend.  The restaurant was in an old building with a number of other businesses which all shared one set of restrooms, reached only by scaling an awesome, gothic staircase:

The rest of the day was spent in the underground tunnels and in the hotel because the temperatures continued to drop.  Not much else to report … until Part II.