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.

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.

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.

protein paranoia

Go vegan for 21 days. That was the initial promise.
And today marks Day 21.
I'm not quite sure why I did it, other than the fact that as a mostly lactose intolerant vegetarian, giving up eggs and honey didn't seem too much of a leap. But cynical about how easy it really was combined with being not too fond of any kind of "forever," I decided on the arbitrary number of 21 days. Three weeks. No animal products. 1 2 3 Go.

Wait, wait. This isn't a post about my discovery of fake meat and chicken-like substances that are actually made from wheat. The thing is that even as a vegetarian, I avoided fake meat. Other than the highly processed nature of the stuff, it seemed a little weird to miss meat - which I really didn't - on a vegetarian diet. Tofurkey, vegan deli "meats," Tofu pups...they all seemed a little too alien to grace my plate. Besides, eating real food - vegetables, fruits, and whole grains - made me feel better. Why fix something that's not broken?
Unfortunately, veganism, I've found, is a little different. The small "vegetarian" notation on a menu becomes meaningless because you can't eat butter, milk, or eggs. Suddenly you have to be annoyingly inquisitive about your food. You start scanning ingredient labels for things like casein and whey while your friends roll their eyes behind your back. Veganism is to nutrition, I've found, what paranoia is to mental health.
Which is why I tried to avoid the nutritional equivalent of constantly looking over my shoulder. I ate lentils and vegetables and fruit, forgot to take my B12 supplements every day, didn't monitor my protein intake, and got massively depressed as a result. Go me.

Okay, okay, I was PMSing, too. But we're talking about the kind of off-the-charts crazy that had me weeping over not getting enough protein and crying over not being motivated enough at everything. Even on the level of insane in which I usually operate, things were not normal. I creeped out a bunch of my friends. Some advised me to eat some yogurt. I considered it.
But we're talking about a mere 21 days. So instead, I ate some tofu, invested in a tub of nutritional yeast, and toughed it out. I researched plant protein sources and bought my first ever bag of protein powder, feeling like a ripped jock in the process. I learned about the controversies behind unfermented soy and steamed my first batch of tempeh. Beans are my new best friend, and popcorn sprinkled with nutritional yeast is one of the best snacks I've ever had. End result? In 21 days, I've learned a lot, but not quite enough.
So I'm going to keep at this. Maybe for 4 more weeks. Maybe for 4 more months. Who knows? I do know, though, that my bag of hemp protein powder probably won't get consumed otherwise. And with the smoothies I'm mixing them into, that would be a damn shame, vegan or not.

Protein Paranoia Smoothies [Inspired by Alton Brown's Buff Smoothie, this is a versatile recipe in which the mixed berries can be switched out for plain raspberries, strawberries, or blueberries. Alton Brown adds 2 ounces of acai juice, but I prefer to just use more almond milk. Of course, you can use any milk alternative of your choice as well.]
Ingredients 4 oz. unsweetened almond milk 2 oz. banana [about half of one, if using frozen, thaw it first] 2 oz. frozen peaches 2 oz. mixed berries 1 tablespoon hemp protein powder
Directions 1. Combine all the ingredients in the blender the night before. Place in the fridge. 2. In the morning, mix on low for one full minute. Then blend on high for 30 seconds. 3. Double-fist with coffee. Or enjoy solo.
Makes 1 serving.

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.

chicken fix

Despite the "fat" post last week that generated more comments than all of the previous month's comments combined [okay not really but it was a lot], I actually have an obsession with really disgusting food.
Olive Garden's Never-Ending Pasta Bowl, Domino's Pasta Bread Bowl, Reb Robin's Wise Guy Burger [yes, those are mozzarella sticks on top of a beef patty]...it seems like the grand old U. S. of A. has no shortage of revolting food. Even with an "obesity epidemic" well underway, there's apparently a mad rush to stuff as much fat, sugar, and lard down our throats as fast as we can. And as a dietary sado-maschoist, I can't help but look, feel horrified, then email the offending item's picture to friends. Mostly because I like the feeling of collectively puking a little in our mouths in disgust. And because I'm such a good friend.

Of course, just when I thought that fast food chains were done pumping out the culinary equivalent of condensed vomit, KFC proved me wrong with the Double Down Chicken Sandwich. Yes, that's two slices of bacon between slices of pepperjack and swiss cheese...all smooshed between two deep-fried chicken fillets. It's disgusting. It's absolutely, unbelievably, mind-blowingly dis-GUST-ing. I dry-heaved a little, then got to emailing.
"Dude. No. Stop," was the first response I got.
"Yo, let's go to KFC," was my reply.
Because even with my slightly vegetarian past, I do love my chicken. But because of that same slightly vegetarian past, I'm not the kind of person who believes meat is a necessity to complete a meal. Still, I'm only human; the mere thought of chicken dipped in hot oil had my stomach demanding bird meat.

I acquiesced by carnivorizing a formerly vegan chickpea salad recipe courtesy of Whole Foods. Chicken breasts were roasted in the oven while I did intervals on the rollers, then got chopped and tossed with a mix of olive oil, vinegar, curry powder, and ground cumin. Raisins, chickpeas, bell peppers, and cilantro add a yummy sweetness that borders on the addictive. And served over kale salad [a current staple in the pedalstrike household...and by "staple" I mean I've been eating it for lunch and dinner every day for the past week], it won't be the kind of addiction you'll have to hide.
It's no Double Down Chicken Sandwich, but when you need something less lethal to hit the spot, this might be a pretty good contender.
Curried Chickenpea Salad Adapted from this recipe.
Ingredients:
For the chicken:
3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts salt and pepper olive oil [This will make a lot more than needed; I slice the rest to throw into a salad.]
For the rest of the salad:
2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar 2 tablespoons lemon juice [or juice of 1/2 a lemon] 3 tablespoons olive oil 2 teaspoons curry powder 1 teaspoon ground cumin 2 teaspoons maple syrup 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup raisins 1 [15 ounce] can chickpeas 2 cups cooked chicken, chopped [see above] 1 bell pepper, seeded and chopped [I only had 1/2 on hand and it was fine] 1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
Directions: 1. Prepare the chicken: (a) Preheat the oven to 350F. [About 15 minutes, or a quick warm up on the rollers.] (b) Poke holes through the thickest part of the chicken with a fork. Season the chicken breasts with salt and pepper, drizzle with olive oil. (c) Place in a casserole dish lined with aluminum foil. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 15 minutes. [Do intervals.] (d) Uncover, and continue baking for 10-15 more minutes; 30-40min total or until juices run clear. [Cool down or continue intervals.] 2. Cool the chicken, then chop into chickpea-size pieces. You'll only need about 2 cups. 3. In a large bowl, mix the vinegar, lemon juice, olive oil, curry powder, ground cumin, maple syrup, and salt. 4. Add the raisins, chickpeas, bell pepper, chicken, and cilantro. Toss to combine. 5. Serve over salad greens or kale salad. Devour.