betty or veronica?

There's never enough time to do everything during finals [like drawing pictures] but there's always time for Embrocation Cycling Journal.

Enjoy; and apologies for the sporadic posting!

gifted cyclists

You know when you really like to do something that you're just not particularly good at? That's me and cooking. Okay, and cycling, but we're putting that aside for now. It wasn't until law school that I found myself alone in an apartment with a knife, cutting board, and stove and left to fend for myself. I knew how to cook a thing or two, but it was mostly Japanese food and I was lacking in both time and motivation. I ate a lot of rice that first year.
I've honed my culinary skills a bit since. The handful of recipes on this site are solid, but I'm not sure they're going to blow anyone away or result in orgasmic throes of gastronomic passion. Still, like cycling, I'm hoping that cooking enough will get me to make something spectacular once in a while. Because there's another thing I like to do but I'm not very good at: gifting.
Unless it's a significant other - in which case they're either a) required to like what you give them [if you've been dating for less than 3 years], or b) going to shamelessly exchange what you got them for something they like better [if you've been married for 10+ years] - it's hard to figure out that perfect token of appreciation for a certain friend/family member/co-worker that you like more than your other co-workers/boss.

Even when they share the same interests as you do, you're still taking a gamble; especially if you've never tested the product itself. But like the vegan chocolate cupcakes I made for the first time for M1's birthday last weekend that ended up fooling everyone at NYC Velo, that pot shot could turn out spectacularly good. Or, it could turn out like my first attempts on the rollers: painful and awkward.
So to make the whole process of gifting this season just a bit easier, the power team behind cassette [read: M1 and me] have put together our top 5 awesome gifts [other than our t-shirts, of course] for that particular cyclist in your life [and no, we don't think that excludes gifting yourself]. We're only listing products that we've used and tried to keep the price range fairly reasonable. I hope these turn out to be the equivalent of those vegan chocolate cupcakes:

Mike's picks: 1. Rapha Merino Wool Long Sleeve Baselayer - $85 As soon as the temperature drops below 50 degrees, a base layer becomes an essential item. I have yet to find one as comfortable as the Rapha long sleeve base layer. Thin enough to be worn under anything, it still keeps me amazingly warm. 2. Outlier Workwear Pants - $180 (Online availability can vary) The Workwear Pants are durable, extremely wearable, and practical – a rare combination in cycling-related gear. 3. Greg Lemond's Complete Book of Cycling - $10 Published way back in 1987, Lemond's Book of Cycling is still a go-to reference book. LeMond is both opinionated and knowledgable, and relates many of the training and fitting tips he learned while a pro in France. 4. Defeet Armskins - $27 Arm warmers are arguably the most versatile piece of apparel in any cyclist's wardrobe. I prefer the wool version of the Armskins - they work in a wider range of temperatures, and even stay warm when wet. 5. The Triplets of Belleville - $11 A classic as soon as it was released, this animated film follows "Champion" as he prepares for the Tour de France (with the help of his grand-mere). The training scenes alone are worth the entire film.

Kaiko's picks: 1. Brooks B17S Imperial Saddle - $147.30 The beauty of the Brooks is that unless the receiver absolutely hates Brooks saddles, you don't have to worry about fit because this saddle is going to mold to whomever you give it to. It can be a literal pain in the ass to break in, but once you do, you won't want to ride anything else. 2. Rapha Silk Scarf - $70 Rapha Scarf Fridays. Nuff said. 3. Brooke Siler's The Pilates Body - $12.89 Because cyclists can always use some work on their core. And standing straight is sexy. 4. Superb Cycling Cap and Bianchi Multi-Tool - $40 Choose the teal cap and you'll match the multi-tool. It doesn't have built-in tire levers but I get comments on it whenever I pull it out. 5. Pearl Izumi AmFIB Gloves - $64.99 I actually have the men's version which are a bit big, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. Perfect for the shorter commute or a quick run to the grocery store or to the post office. They'll keep your hands toasty and warm and saved my fingers last winter when it dropped to 0F.
And just for kicks, we're including our dream gift this season. We agreed that it couldn't be a bicycle [that would just be too easy], and not absurdly expensive. As in it had to be within reason; you know, like something under the cost of one of those Victoria's Secret diamond bras [boobs not included]. So if someone loves us a lot, here's what would make us love you [more]:
Mike's dream gift: * Velo Classic Legends of Tuscany tour - $4995 Having already participated in the Velo Classic Spring Classics tour 3 years ago, I have promised myself I will try and make it back on another of these amazing adventures as soon as possible. With so many tour options it's hard to decide, but the lure of the maglia rosa is hard to resist!

Kaiko's dream gift: * InSide Ride E-Motion Rollers - $795 As if I don't spend enough time indoors, these rollers were featured in the latest issue of Bicycling Magazine and I've been secretly lusting after them since. It's something I'd hesitate to purchase even if I was drowning in dough, but boy wouldn't I love a pair...[although that Tacx Bushido Trainer is looking pretty good, too...and only partially because the Schlecks use them.]
So what are you looking forward to receiving this year?

vegan training wheels

"What is it with you and food?" a friend once jokingly asked.
He was referring to my choice of legal note topics for my journal; last fall I wrote about the Southern Bluefin Tuna Cases, in the spring about the regulation of geographic indicators of food in the European Union [publication forthcoming, spring 2010...eeepp!!!]. I learned about cases revolving around cheese and how overfishing is screwing up the entire ecosystem. The latter supplemented by my environmental law class really pulled at heartstrings. We're killing the planet, was the general message, do something!
The thing is, while I may have enough ethics to pass the MPRE, and while I may prefer the company of small, furry animals to most human beings, I am fully comfortable with grilling anything I am comfortable killing. I've gutted fish in front of friends without batting an eye, only realizing later what a grotesque sight that must have been. I like to think that I would be capable of killing a chicken if I had to. Pigs and cows, probably not.

That begs the question: why? Why set down some arbitrary dietary rules for myself? Why fried chicken and no bacon?
To be honest, I'm not sure. It started with watching what I was eating so I wouldn't gain 50 pounds over the winter. That turned into cutting out 90% of processed food from my diet. And that has suddenly morphed into the beginnings of veganism.
The worst part? It's easy to stop buying processed food, but it's infuriatingly frustrating when you're expected to explain exactly why. Simply pulling out a ziplock bag full of baby carrots or grapes will elicit the self conscious "I should eat healthier, too," when I had no intention of making a judgment call on what my friends are eating. Then there are those who express concern bordering on anger over what I'm eating. When I try to brush off questions with the power-to-weight ratio argument, I've been met with the vehement [predictably, from girls] "will you STOP trying to lose weight?!"

Food, apparently, has a weird control over us. It's like my bag of veggies, or the fact that I eat mini-meals throughout the day triggers feelings of dietary self-consciousness in others. The annoying part being that I have no intent to do this...I have no ethical agenda or desire to educate. I just want to eat my food.
Ironically, as the more common "cycling/power-to-weight ratio" argument fails, it seems as if the more extreme "I'm vegan" justification is easier. The stereotype of the slightly crazed ethical vegan seems so intense that people will consciously choose not to ask about it because they want to avoid a lecture on environmental sustainability. Cycling - and the manorexia that's associated with it - is apparently too normal to avoid prying questions.
The strange thing being that my cycling friends don't tend to ask those weird questions. When I expressed surprise at finding out that Brett was vegetarian, he looked at me with an air of mock disdain, and asked me if people still ate meat. When I told M1 I was going vegan - or at least trying - and that I wanted to make my own soy yogurt, he gamely asked if I was going to start growing mung beans on my walls next. Small wonder I love those guys.

So I'm trying out this whole vegan thing. Just for a few days. Milk and dairy aren't a huge problem because my fragile Asian constitution [read: lactose intolerance] can't take more than 3 tablespoons of the stuff anyway; but cutting out eggs and honey was proving pretty painful. Then Amazon came to the rescue with my copy of Anna Thomas's Love Soup. The recipes are all vegetarian, but more than half of them are vegan, too. So to power me through a few finals, I cooked up a big batch of her Red Lentil and Squash Soup. Except I used brown lentils instead of red, forgot to buy ginger, and omitted the red pepper, and added leeks.
Yeah, there's something about me and food.
Vegan Training Wheels Lentil and Squash Soup Adapted from Love Soup
[I understand the results aren't very photogenic, but I imagine this soup is gorgeous if made with red lentils instead of brown. Regardless of how it looks, it's hearty and thick and sweet without being cloying. I'm already looking forward to dinner for the next few days...]
Serves 6-8
Ingredients: 1 cup red lentils 1 tsp sea salt 1 small butternut squash 1 medium onion, chopped 1 large leek, white and light green parts only, chopped 1 medium sweet potato, peeled and diced 1 tsp ground cumin 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes [optional, I didn't use them] 4-5 cups vegetable broth 1 1/2 cups spinach, fresh or frozen 1/2 lemon
Directions: 1. Preheat the oven to 375F. 2. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and brush it with olive oil. 3. Cut the squash in half, seed it, and place cut side down on the baking sheet. Roast for 30-45 minutes, until it can be easily pierced with a fork 4. Meanwhile, rinse the lentils and put them in a pot with 4 cups of water and 1 tsp salt. Bring to a boil, then simmer, covered, for 20 minutes [30 if you're using brown lentils]. 5. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a pan and saute the onions slowly, until they begin to soften [Anna Thomas says 10 minutes, I did it in about 5]. Add the leeks and continue to cook until they are turning soft and golden brown [Anna Thomas says about 20-30 minutes; I probably did it in 10-15]. 6. When the lentils are tender, add the onions and leeks, sweet potato, cumin, red pepper flakes [if using] and 4 cups of vegetable broth. Simmer for 25 minutes. 7. Once the squash is done, scoop out 2 1/2 cups of the flesh and add it to the soup. Cook until everything is heated through and add more broth if the soup is too thick. 8. Add the spinach and cover, until spinach is wilted or thawed [if using frozen, just throwing them in is fine, you don't have to thaw them beforehand]. 9. Stir in the lemon juice and season with salt if necessary. Devour.

bottled martinis

Having realized that Dragonforce in the morning can only get you so far on the rollers, I have shamelessly embraced Hulu like a fat kid clutches onto his prized sack of Halloween candy. Somehow, when you're on the rollers and the sun hasn't come out yet, it's perfectly okay to start your day with a little House M.D., even if that means you're going to get to school barely in time for your 10am class.
It was on one of those sweat sessions with Hulu that I came across a commercial for the Smirnoff Pomegranate Martini. Prepackaged vodka, pomegranate juice, and Meyer lemon liqueur, the voice-over guaranteed "the perfect cocktail with every pour." I almost stopped pedaling in horror.
Because, like most things, when you get used to the real thing [or even just the better thing], it's hard to....well, downgrade. What to a college student might seem convenient and palatable becomes, after a few real cocktails, a cheap attempt at bottled class that shouldn't be touched with a ten foot pole. Call me a snob, but if given the choice between Smirnoff Pomegranate Martini and Natty Light, I'd probably go for the latter. At least the frat boy beirut beer of choice isn't trying to pretend it's something other than what it really is [i.e., shitty beer].

And the same goes for bikes and the people who ride them. Though I'm capable of standing over M1's Cyfac, I've refused to ride it in part due to the full C-Record gruppo. It's not because I might crash it [although, due to my clumsiness, that's a very real possibility], it's because I know I'll never forget how it feels. And with a wallet that lacks a third dimension these days, whatever gruppo I may be able to afford won't be anything close to Campy. It's like driving a Lamborghini and then spending the rest of your life comparing it to the late model Hyundai you're currently stuck driving. There's no rational reason for you to do that to yourself.
As for the people, well, they can raise the bar quite a bit as well. Take a handful of experienced cyclists that will easily clock in 200 miles per week and have negative body fat and suddenly hauling a single-speed on the occasional 40 miler becomes embarrassingly pathetic. It's not that they look down on my feeble attempts at cycling; in fact, they do the opposite. But despite their predictable immaturity [they are all guys] I still look up to them, and they unconsciously have me striving for higher goals this winter.

And I don't just mean in the cycling sphere. Though I'm not into poaching my circle of friends for potential husband material, those seemingly irrational requirements for the ideal significant other have gone from "someone who rides a bike" to "someone who has less than 4% body fat, rides at least 200 miles a week, preferably year around, knows how to fix their bikes, will tolerate my roller coaster mood swings, has a solid sense of humor, isn't completely useless, falls on the smarter side of the scale, and oh did I mention is also swooningly hot?" I know, I ask for a lot [but please, I have a lot to offer, now, don't I? Kidding!]. Blame my frustratingly competent friends but I've been around too much of the real thing these past few months. And between classes, exhaustion, and the rollers, I realized that - though well aware that I may never be able to keep up with those friends on a bicycle - I'll be damned if I'm going to downgrade.
It's like realizing that you're spinning out at your gearing; at which point, why would you switch to a bigger cog [or a smaller chainring]? Okay, there's that whole "because it could kill your knees" which in relationship-speak translates to "because you'll end up a spinster with 20 bikes and 30 cats." Touche. But I'll be a spinster with 20 bikes and 30 cats and still be keeping it real.

Sound irrational? Then go to a real bar, [swallow your insecurities concerning your sexuality...you're a cyclist for God's sake, you should be comfortable with the accusations by now] and order a appletini or whatever fruity martinis they might be offering. Savor it. Then pick up a bottle of Smirnoff Pomegranate Martini at your local liquor shop on your way home. Try to actually drink it [without hurling].
Doesn't seem so irrational now, does it?

final countdown

It's December. Which means Bill Strickland's back. Which is a good thing because final exams are coming up and putting me into that pre-exam tizzy.
I'm copping out again with the simple presentation of a Rapha Scarf Friday. This was all I could manage in my exhaustion.

There's something cooking in the back of my brain for next week, though. It just hasn't quite gelled yet. Give me the weekend, it'll happen.
Yawn. Alright, back to work...

doing the wave

There are about three things that make my mornings fully worth it. Post-roller coffee made in my French press, a hardboiled free-range egg from M1's parents' chickens [they are adorable], and Older-Cyclist-Dude-with-the-Amazing-Jackets. The last even waves.
I think we first saw each other earlier this year when it was still frigid out. On Beacon Street right as it bends around the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, he'll be heading downtown as I'm rolling the other way. Both of us in leggings, he always in clipless shoes, me alternating between sneakers and Sidis, we were the select few braving the cold. He waved; not the usual subtle nod or the fingers raised in acknowledgment with a thumb still looped around the bars, but almost as if he were signaling to turn. Hand fully off the bars and fingers outstretched like a small salute. I raised my fingers in response.
We've continued this interaction for a few months now, whenever we see each other. I'm pretty sure he rides through the winter. I'm pretty sure we would be awesome friends.

Okay, I'm probably making that claim because the wave [and, consequently, acknowledgment] - from a clearly[-more]-seasoned[-than-I] cyclist - is really just a form of flattery. It could be explained by your siiiiick bike, or your ability to exude some sort of pro-pheromones [pro-mones? pro-romones?], but the bottom line is that you're getting noticed by someone else. And when that someone else clearly knows his own shit, you get to feel a little more legit.
Especially considering the frugality with which cyclists dispense waves. Not everyone will wave or wave back...which could result in that awkward, extremely uncomfortable feeling where you try to say hello to someone and they blow past you to exchange greetings with someone clearly more socially important. And even if those hints of acknowledgment are based on snap judgments on what you're wearing and how well you can hold a line, [roadies will ignore anything without a helmet on it, while clipless shoes seem to be a good sign that you're not just dicking around on your bike] it still feels pretty good when you get it. Plus, it saves you the trouble of trying to play off that rejected wave as if you were trying to...um...wipe the sweat from your forehead...or something...

But it's funny, because while in actuality it's harder to break into the roadie world, it's the fixsters that will resolutely refuse to nod, wave, or in any other way recognize that another human is on a bicycle. Well, I take that back; unless your bike is a candy-coated, anodized wonder, then they will refuse to acknowledge you, especially if you are sporting a cassette. But somehow, even when I'm struggling and going at the incredible pace of 10mph, experienced roadies will sometimes acknowledge me. And it wasn't until a few nights ago, sipping coffee with a trusted confidante and discussing friendships formed over long hours in the library, that I realized why. Like the 12 hour days good friends and I have spent in the library on weekends, or the weird antics we got into when working on legal memos until 3 in the morning, doing longer road rides can bind strangers together through the experience of common misery. There's an underlying love involved - what else can motivate us to get out of bed at 6am on a Sunday to get a good ride in before noon? - but it's the recognition of suffered pain on a bicycle that seems to dictate whether you get the nod, or not. Pretty bikes will get you looks, but unless you're really riding that thing, it won't get you nods.
There's always an exception, though, isn't there? On a rare occasion when I trotted out the track bike, pretty in pink and fixster-ed out, a familiar cyclist passed by me on his instantly-recognizable celeste green 80s Bianchi. He looked at me quizzically, eyes directed more at the bike than to the person riding it. I raised my hand and waved as he slowly realized that it was the same girl who rides the beat up Bianchi San Jose. He smiled.
Maybe he was just being polite. But I like to think that he knows that I know how to suffer.