post ride eats

Some things I've been inhaling after my recent outdoor [!] rides...
Chocolate Vega Sport Performance Protein blended with a banana, some ice, and water. Straight out of the blender:

Bowl of white rice with natto [fermented soybeans]. SO. GOOD.:

Oatmeal with cinnamon and peanut butter [I ran out of bananas. That would have made this even more amazing.]:

Chinese steamed bun with red bean paste:


More soon, I promise!

bar review: bonk breakers

My mother has imposed a recent rule in the house which forbids me from drinking tap water.
“Here,” she said, as she shoved a giant bottle of water towards me, “make your coffee with this from now on. And stop drinking water from the tap. There might be radiation in it.”
Since March 11th, my family has stopped buying domestic beef, everyone is currently avoiding vegetables, dairy, and rice from northeastern Japan, and half the lights in every building are turned off as Japan rushes to shut down every nuclear power plant in the country. And as someone who might still be alive in 30 years, my homecoming has forced my mother to throw more caution in the wind: buying crates of bottled water and giving me livid stares of outrage when I refused to use an umbrella to run an errand in misty showers.

This has resulted in regular thirst, and the odd feeling that I am wasting money whenever I consume bottled water. It’s a vicious cycle that has also affected when and how often I get on the bike. Like a dealer stepping on his supply, I cut my water with electrolyte sports drinks, squeezing out the value of every bottled drop. And holding out on my thirst, I like to tell myself that attaining that state of exhausted dehydration will make whatever I’m stuffing into my mouth taste that much better.
If you’ve ridden to the point of thirst on a bike before, you’ll know what I’m referring to. It’s that point at which Nuun-ed water tastes sweet, despite the fact that when you try to drink it when properly hydrated, it tastes sort of gross. Because we all lower the bar when it comes to food consumed on the bike. Tucked into a jersey pocket and exposed to 100+F heat for over three hours, even Clif bars soften and become somewhat more palatable. Ride long enough and the disturbing softness of Clif shot blocks turns into something to be grateful for - because, let’s face it: no Haribo gummi product can be chewed twice and then simply swallowed.

Which is why when Dave N. pulled out an orange package from his jersey pocket a few months ago, I was skeptical. “These are really, really good,” he said; those same words used to inaccurately describe Clif bars to me a few years ago. “They taste like real food,” Dave went on, as I politely nodded, reminding myself that even shot blocks can taste good when one is deprived of enough calories. “You can get them at REI,” he continued, as my interest waned further, my desire to walk the two extra blocks from Superb to REI quickly becoming a convenient excuse never to try these new bars.
But curiosity and the need for chamois cream got the better of me as I ended up at REI a few weeks later. By then inclined to believe Dave’s taste in most things [especially the gastronomical kind], and looking for a gluten-free alternative to Larabars, I grabbed a few Bonk Breakers on my way out: [Dave’s favorite] Peanut Butter and Jelly, and [my current favorite] the Almond Butter and Honey flavors.

Oh. My. YUM.
Made primarily of oats, rice flour, and nuts, the most welcome thing about Bonk Breakers is that they’re soft. They’re softer to bite into than your typical slate-like Clif bar, and because they’re not dried-fruit based like Larabars, Bonk Breaker residue doesn’t tend to get stuck in your teeth. All the bars are also free of gluten, dairy, and soy, and perfectly sized to fit into jersey pockets. Not to mention how the Peanut Butter and Jelly flavor actually looks like a PB&J sandwich, and is actually delicious enough to eat off the bike.

When I had a few packaging problems with one of their bars, Jason Winn, the founder of Bonk Breakers was kind enough to not only send me a few replacement bars, but also their newest Blueberry Oat flavor. More oat-y than the previous Bonk Breakers I’ve tried, it tasted like those muffins I'd been lusting after since cutting out wheat from my diet. Except with Bonk Breakers, you can tuck this one into your jersey without worrying about the crumbs and inevitable mid-ride muffin implosions.
Unfortunately, I’ve only found one bike store that keeps these bars in stock here in Tokyo. Good thing I’m headed stateside in a week for my best friend’s wedding…because a few boxes of these are definitely coming back with me.
[Now available at RSC!]

[energy] bar review

Long before I bought my first adult-sized bicycle [yes, 44cm is adult-sized], I ate my first Luna bar. Sweet, crunchy, and formulated “especially for women” [I still haven’t really figured out what that means], it was a sign of a long year of packaged, processed food. Neck-deep in my first year of law school, trying to memorize cases that I hardly understood, with no time to take care of myself, I subsisted on Lean Cuisines, boxes of cereal, Pop Tarts, and bagels from Dunkin Donuts. I broke out, gained 10 pounds, and ended the year on a bicycle.
The following fall, teasing a friend in his first year of law school who was trapped in the library for the night, studying alongside a Clif bar, I understood his misery all too well when he complained:
“I haven’t eaten something that hasn’t come out of a package in three weeks...!”
Law school will make you paranoid [“Does that count as a tort? Am I being contributorily negligent?”], [slightly to extremely] fat, and an expert in processed food. Which is one reason why, when my stick-thin sister asked me to review energy/protein bars because “some of them taste like ass and I’d rather have someone else tell me that instead of finding out myself,” I sort of didn’t mind taking one for the team. Because between the Everlast, South Beach, Zone, Balance, Clif, Luna, Kind, and Larabars, I’ve figured out which stick-shaped forms of nutrition aren’t complete calorie-bombs, how to battle their respective wrappers on a bike, and which ones might result in the kind of gastronomic distress that no one should have to deal with when they’re 30 miles into a ride.
So whether you're in law school, studying for the bar, preparing for a ride, or just hungry, here are a few good standbys to have around...
Clif Bar Flavor tested: Chocolate Chip Peanut Crunch Calories: 260 Carbs: 42 grams Fat: 6 grams Protein: 11 grams

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Oh Clif. Like the lifelong guy friend who, if a girl is actually honest with herself, she just doesn’t want to date, there are just too many little flaws that banish Clif to the “friend ladder,” despite his bro status amongst many endurance athletes. Though boasting the use of organic oats and soybeans, and natural ingredients, there’s something about Clif that’s hard to swallow [so to speak]. Though the amount of carbs in one bar [almost as much as a bagel] is pretty well suited for a long endurance ride, and though the package is definitely bike-friendly in that it can be easily torn open with teeth and one hand [and what girl doesn’t like that?], Clif bars are really...hard [yes, that’s what she said]. I’ve run into Clif’s arms in rages of PMS-fueled carb-frenzies...and was forced to concentrate on chewing while breathing at the same time. And while that might be a good thing when your appetite is acting like a raging beast, it’s not so good when you’re trying to reduce something into a swallow-able consistency and pedal at the same time. Cutting up the bar into smaller, bite-sized pieces pre-ride helps, but you can’t really do much about the long-lasting chewiness.
If you’re into that, to each girl her own. But be forewarned: with soy protein isolate and soy flour listed as ingredients, to those with more delicate stomachs [read: me], Clif can be the cause of some gastrointestinal distress. As in, it makes me ridiculously gassy. So in the interest of saving you the sensation that your gas is the only thing propelling you forward because your gas-filled stomach has you curling up in pain when you pedal hard, if you might be sensitive to soy or soy flour, you might want to try eating one of these before you go out and munch on one mid-ride.
Luna Bar Flavor tested: Caramel Nut Brownie Calories: 180 Carbs: 27 grams Fat: 6 grams Protein: 8 grams

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Luna Bar - Clif’s “women’s bar” - is like Clif’s younger sister who has a corporate job where she works at least 12 hours a day, cooks wholesome meals, goes to yoga once a week, and still finds time to spend quality time with her girlfriends. Supplemented with 24 vitamins and minerals, made with 70% organic ingredients, Luna Bar does it all, and is also formulated with calcium, folic acid, iron, and Vitamin D to “help women get more of the nutrients often lacking in their meal plans while being 100% natural and as organic as possible.” It’s a bar that’s perfectly shaped into visually appealing rectangles and just sweet enough to make the girls like her without coming off as fake.
Unlike her brother Clif, Luna is easier to break apart and savor, too. And with only 180 calories a pop, she’s a lot more versatile, making appearances as both bike energy food and as a quick afternoon snack. With the women-centric marketing and emphasis on all-natural ingredients, Luna’s girlfriends will always feel good about making a “healthier” choice, and one that is apparently tailor-made just for them.
With Luna’s support of women and women’s cycling, I want to like her, too. I want to believe in her, that she’s as healthy and wholesome as she claims. That she’s not really digging into pizza after yoga or living off bad Chinese take-out. But one bite, and the wholesome image crumbles a bit. Halfway into the bar, I stop lying to myself; Luna doesn’t taste any better than bars that aren’t “all-natural.” There’s a heavily processed, almost metallic taste to it, which makes the act of eating one only slightly more pleasant than chewing on a multi-vitamin [and I’m not talking about the kid’s chewables]. By the end, I’m questioning if the “chocolate” base was actually real chocolate or simply “chocolate-flavored.” And then there’s that whole soy flour and soy protein isolate gas problem that she shares with her brother Clif. I guess siblings are never that different, huh?
For those still willing to give Luna a chance, the bar does tend to shower crumbs. If you’re eating half and sticking the rest in a jersey pocket, you might want to shake out said jersey pocket post-ride.
Larabar Flavor tested: Apple Pie Calories: 190 Carbs: 24 grams Fat: 10 grams Protein: 4 grams

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In contrast to Clif and Luna, Larabar is the ethical, trendy vegan friend you have that you sort of wish wasn't bi so you can have him all to yourself. Often confused with Luna, Larabars are as man-friendly as they come, and for those who refuse to consume anything that comes out of a package, Larabar's list of ingredients you can count on one hand and recognize will make them the exception to your rule.
Actually, like anything that is delicious, wholesome, and good-looking, Larabar might become your new, go-to, add-to-speed-dial crush. Larabar's honesty about what he's made of: dried fruit, nuts, and spices like cinnamon, and his complete lack of added sugar, gluten, or preservatives makes him both unique and addictive. He's a regular in the Pedal-Strike Household, sneaks into my bags as quick snacks, and is likely to be found in my jersey pocket. Sure I sometimes end up picking out dried apple and tiny bits of almonds out of my molars with my finger but let's be honest: I've done far more disgusting things. And Larabar - bless him - doesn't judge.
Kind Bar Flavor tested: Walnut and Date Calories: 170 Carbs: 22 grams Fat: 9 grams Protein: 3 grams

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And finally, Kind bar. He's a gluten-free veg-head, too, though not vegan because he still likes his honey. A mix of nuts, dried fruit, and puffed rice, just like Sram's shifting, Kind bar has taken the best of both energy bar worlds, combining natural ingredients with some moderately processed ones to produce something pretty frickin' delicious. Like Larabar, Kind bar is comfortable enough with himself to be upfront about what's under that wrapper: the transparent packaging lets you see that you're buying something you can recognize as hunks of buttery-tasting walnuts mixed with dates, honey, and raisins. To add to his appeal, Kind bar even actively supports doing kind acts. So if you're in the market for a guy that doesn't just front about what he's about, Kind bar is your man.
Kind bar's only downside is that the clever, attractive packaging plastic is thick and sturdy, making on the bike consumption a bit more difficult. The thinness of the individual bars also means that cutting them up pre-ride isn't so much of an option. But the chewy yet kinda crispy texture can't be beat, and if you're looking for a wider range of bars - like those drizzled with chocolate or yogurt or supplemented with calcium - yet still want to keep it as natural as possible, Kind delivers, without any chemical aftertaste.
I know I mentioned I'm an expert in the field of energy bar eating, so it would be irresponsible of me to say that this is any kind of exhaustive list. These four - whatever your goal - should cover the bases. But if you have a favorite that you're pretty sure I definitely have to try, let me know. I'm always up for eating more things that come in small packages.

falling into chicken

On River Road last Saturday, coasting along in arm warmers and an awesome Castelli vest, layered over my thickest jersey layered over a baselayer, I noticed that despite the spectacular sight of trees going from blonde to fire-hydrant red, and the not-freezing-yet temperatures, there just weren't that many people out. No one seemed to pass us from behind, hammering towards hills as they usually do, and the small handful of people sighted were the kind with flatbars with big mirrors on each side, khaki pants with a safety ankle strap for a quick, relaxing ride by the river. It was October, still warm enough, and the climbs were devoid of triathletes. What was going on?
Okay, maybe the climbs are always devoid of triathletes, but the emptiness of the road was still a little creepy. Not creepy in the way being stuck in a mountain cottage in New Hampshire with no cell signal is creepy [because let's face it, if you get attacked by zombies in the middle of the night where it's so dark out you can't see your own hand in front of your face, AND you can't use your cell phone, you're pretty much fucked], but more like the kind of creepy that partners up with dread and desperation when you finally figure out that there really is something wrong with your mental health. Worse, once that possibility is entertained, even for a second or two, if not dismissed outright, the manifestations of symptoms of a psyche gone bad become all too clear. Denial ["40F and rainy? Perfect riding weather!"], anger ["Too cold?! What do you MEAN it's too cold?"], resentment ["why did I have to choose cycling as a hobby again? This is stupid. This is so. Fucking. Stupid."]. The previously inexplicable hatred of sweaters, as well as those cravings for pumpkin pie, cinnamon, and sweet potatoes suddenly seem to make more sense. It's fall, people, and I have no idea what to do with it.

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24 hours after this ugly realization that perhaps I might still be living in "summer" when it's very clearly "fall," I was perched on a stool in my underwear [because that's how I roll], watching Mike braise three pounds of meat. Yup, three pounds. Three pounds of stuff I never used to eat. Bacon oozed oil into which chunks of beef and pork butt sizzled in a huge dutch oven. Diced onion, garlic, spices and tomatoes went in and simmered slowly for two hours, the smell making me kow-tow in front of the giant black pot in hunger. All of which culminated in a chili that I ended up wanting to make love to. To kiss, and marry, and hold forever. And staring at my empty bowl, I secretly admitted it. Even with the tropical fruit in the fridge, the Cyfac set up so I can at least reach the pedals, the fairly recent discovery of a quick 45 mile route that will kick my ass every time - all vestiges of summer - I kind of like this part of the year, too.
Back home in Boston, where it's always noticeably colder than the city, that hunger for crisp, fall air, apples, and dense, dark meat - the kind you can't imagine eating after a hard, hot ride in July - had me sauteing chicken thighs in a big black pot. Balsalmic vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, and butter simmered in the pan juices before getting drizzled over the chicken and some mixed greens. Halved grape tomatoes gave the plate a nice splash of color, although the season's pretty much over for them, too.

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Yeah, it's totally fall, now. But hey, don't forget, there's still a lot of riding and cooking left to do.
Balsalmic Chicken Adapted from a Japanese recipe from who knows where.
[I obviously only made three pieces, and forgot the water cresson this time around. I strongly recommend the water cresson, though, as it really pairs well with the resulting sauce. The original recipe called for thighs with the skin on, and if you use that, you'll get this crispy, crusty chicken which is awesome, too. I could only find skinned thighs, so that's what I used here, and it's just as good. I know it doesn't look like much, and it's deceptively easy, but trust me...you'll want to lick the plate once you taste this.]
Ingredients:
4 skinned chicken thighs (about 4oz each) 1/2 tablespoon olive oil salt and pepper 1 handful mixed greens 1 bunch water cresson 10 cherry or grape tomatoes, sliced in half 1 clove garlic, minced 1 tablespoon balsalmic vinegar 1 tablespoon sherry wine or sake/rice cooking wine 1 tablespoon low sodium soy sauce 1 tablespoon butter
Directions: 1. Knead olive oil, salt, and pepper into chicken thighs 2. Heat a [non-stick] frying pan over high heat and place flat side down [there's no need to use any extra oil, but the grease will fly up a bit. I used a pot instead of a frying pan for that reason]. Do not move until the underside is a golden brown. Flip over the meat, reduce to low heat, and cover. Cook for another 8 or so minutes, until juices run clear when poked. 3. Remove the chicken from the pan and keep warm on a plate. 4. Add the garlic, vinegar, wine/sake, soy sauce, butter, and pepper [to taste] to the pan juices. Simmer until reduced and slightly thickened. 5. Arrange water cresson, mixed greens, and tomatoes onto a plate. Pour pan juices over both veggies and chicken. Or, slice the chicken and serve it on a bed of greens.
Serves 4.