[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

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

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

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

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.

girl friday

It’s Friiiiiday! Weekend’s just around the corner. I’m not in the office today, but if you need some distraction, as a highly diligent, female professional, I’ve got it covered.
Half Draft:
Existing at the towering height of 5’2, I figured that until I could purchase either a Cervelo or a custom bike, I would have to live with the color of whatever mini bike I could find. And then a few months ago, I met a few extremely cute girls who changed all that: Britlee and Michelle of Half Draft.
The thing is, these girls aren’t your ordinary run-of-the-mill cyclists. They stand out [pun intended] because they’re as short as I am. The height factor instantly became the center of our conversation: how to find bikes that fit, the 650cc vs. 700cc question, and what we currently ride. And the best part? Britlee and Michelle told me about their new site, Half Draft, which is devoted to reviews of bikes and gear for the shorter rider.

When I saw the sheer number of bikes on that site, I actually said “woah,” out loud. Though the cross bikes reviewed are mostly in the 50cm range [and thus too big for yours truly], the chart with comparisons of quality and price is extremely helpful. There’s a post about how to change your stem to enable better reach, and the Dolan Pre Cursa even made No. 3 on their tiny track bike listing. This is tiny bike heaven, and with the average height of American women hovering around 5’4, Half Draft is the perfect resource for the shorter, female rider.
Downtown from Behind:
It could be PMS or an onset of SAD, but when temperatures drop, I start to crave bright colors. And clothes. And accessories. I crave fashionable people and New York City.

So when I found Downtown from Behind, I predictably spent about 15 minutes browsing the archives and reading the short entries. The project, by photographer Bridge Flemming, will document every street below 14th Street via a picture of a cyclist from behind. With a mix of designers, artists, models, bike shop owners, and non-profit organizers, it gives a taste of the diversity of New York, and the different characters that shape the city.
A warning, though: you’ll end up spending a ridiculous amount of time on this site.
Mr.Newton - Hey Bike Girl!:
Found through a site that linked to another site that linked to this one, and because high fashion and bright colors make me happy, I threw Mr. Newton into my Google Reader a few weeks ago.

Yesterday, he did a post exclusively on girls on bikes. If you’re not into the kitting-out-in-Lycra thing, if you’re nostalgic for summer, or you just want to be reminded that riding a bike doesn’t have to limit your wardrobe, go take a look. I may never be able to ride a bike in a pink chiffon dress, but that doesn’t mean these photos didn’t have me browsing my closet for cuter outfits.
Crap, now I need to buy another pair of boots...and another bike...

bella biciclette

For a smaller city, Boston has its fair share of good bike shops. As a semi-crazed law student looking for distraction in the form of bike porn, I've hung out at quite a few shops...and made some pretty awesome friends in the process.
One shop that I clearly love above all others in this city is Superb. Managed by the always-stylish Jason, Superb was one of two places [the other being Cafe Fixe] that I could go to even in the psychological whirlwind of studying for the bar. At Superb, there's guaranteed to be new stuff to see, good company, and fun times.
Which sort of sucks because 1. Superb's having an awesome event this Saturday and 2. I won't be able to go.

Called "Bella Biciclette," Superb is hosting an exhibit of vintage 70s, 80s, and 90s bicycles, all of which will be on sale. An RSVP-only event, formal dress is also encouraged...which chafed even more because I LOVE getting dressed up for [bike-related] events. There's even a "hot bike" contest which I would totally be eligible for because I didn't enter in last year's. Argh!
My self-pitying aside, this is something definitely worth checking out. RSVP, go, and report back!
More deets at Superb...

hit, run, and pay?

Sometimes, because of the negative associations with it, I regret my freely chosen profession[al license]. I understand that I knew this and clearly disregarded it when I submitted my enrollment letter to law school, but having passed both the MA and NY bar has made it official: I struggled through three years of school, plus two state bar exams, to join a profession that is commonly referred to as “soulless.”
As a fairly accomplished expert in the field of denial, I’ve tried to justify the label in a number of ways [“I’m ethically bound to ‘competently’ represent my clients,” or “I think ‘soulless’ just means ‘hardworking,’”]. It’s worked so far, in that I’m not completely disgusted with myself [yet]. But then something last week reared its ugly head which made me instantly back pedal from any association with the legal profession: the story about the Eagle, Colorado financial manager who ran over a cyclist [the latter is a NY surgeon] against whom the prosecuting District Attorney chose not to pursue felony charges because “it could jeopardize his job.”

The story is fucked up three ways to Sunday: financial manager Martin Joel Erzinger hits a NY surgeon, Dr. Steven Milo, cycling on the road in Colorado, with his black 2010 Mercedes-Benz sedan. Then, instead of doing the normal thing of maybe apologizing, calling an ambulance and/or police, or at least leaving a card, he “fled the scene.” [Emphasis mine]. Erzinger was only arrested after he pulled into a Pizza Hut parking lot to call the Mercedes-Benz auto assistance service to ask that the damage to his car be addressed, failing to mention that he just ran over someone which is why there was damage to his car in the first place. Responding Avon police officers arrested him.
According to court records, the original complaint included a felony charge “for causing serious injury,” which in this case includes, “spinal cord injuries, bleeding from his brain and damage to [Milo’s] knee and scapula,” as well as “’disabling’ spinal headaches...a herniated disc...and scars.” However, the prosecuting district attorney announced for the first time, in a notification to the court on September 7, that the charge will be reduced to a misdemeanor. The justification for the reduction in charges was motivated by the “serious job implications for someone in Mr. Erzinger’s profession...when you’re talking about restitution, you don’t want to take away his ability to pay,” said District Attorney Mark Hurlbert.
In Colorado [like most US jurisdictions], district attorneys are elected officials, and prosecutors have a fair amount of discretion when it comes to deciding what charges the state will pursue. In that regard, I sadly can’t say I’m surprised. What sort of bothers me more is that it’s not even a well-reasoned justification. And here’s why.
Restitution is a legal concept which seeks to place the person as good a position as the person was in before the event occurred. The concept does not include punitive damages, but simply seeks to re-establish the former status quo. In this case, restitution would require placing Dr. Milo in “as good” a position as he was in before the accident. Putting aside the obvious likelihood that Dr. Milo may never return to his pre-getting-hit-by-a-car condition, restitution could be measured by Dr. Milo’s medical bills, property damage, lost wages, and other out-of-pocket expenses. Colorado explicitly allows victims of certain crimes the option of seeking restitution in its Victim Rights Act.

Okay, that’s great, you might think, this doctor will get paid for at least the financial cost of the hit and run. But the thing is, there is absolutely no guarantee that a victim of a crime in Colorado will be entitled to restitution. According to a pamphlet provided by the Colorado State Judicial Branch:

A defendant may be ordered to pay the victim for damages which occurred as a result of the crime committed. This is called restitution. The Victim Impact Statement helps in determining this amount.

Notice the wording. This means that it is within the court’s discretion, with input provided by the Victim Impact Statement, to determine an amount that is appropriate for restitution. Basically, even if found guilty, the court doesn’t have to order that Erzinger pay any restitution to Dr. Milo [although chances are, Dr. Milo will collect at least enough to cover his medical bills]. Furthermore, if, in any event, Dr. Milo suffers from future injury caused by the initial collision [and this seems fairly common where spinal injuries are involved], increasing the amount due under a court-determined restitution order is extremely difficult unless “the final amount of restitution due has not yet been set by the court.” [source].
District Attorney Hurlbert’s admission that Erzinger must continue to work to pay restitution may indicate that Hurlbert anticipates a hefty bill for Erzinger. But given that all of this will be determined by the court, no one knows what this amount will be [if any]. And, in any case, it’s difficult to imagine a sum so large that it would require Erzinger - an extremely wealthy financial manager - to continue working to pay it off. The stated fear that Erzinger just might lose his job becomes more absurd when combined with 1. the fact that Dr. Milo clearly does not care about the money but wants Erzinger to take responsibility for his actions, and 2. this crappy economy.
I’m disappointed to say the least. It’ll be interesting to see what happens next, and the litigious side of me is fervently hoping for at least a civil suit against Erzinger. Punitive damages, anyone?
More relevant reads on Simple Justice and ExPat ExLawyer.
Update:
After writing this post, I read on the Huffington Post that Erzinger's misdemeanor charge was part of a plea bargain which includes "significant" restitution. Hurlbert has stressed that the misdemeanors would stay on Erzinger's record permanently.
Sure, okay, but two other things: 1. what exactly is "significant restitution"? "Significant" for Erzinger might not be so significant for Dr. Milo. 2. Am I missing something or did Erzinger call Mercedes, not the police, after he drove over Dr. Milo? Other than the fact that that seems completely, well, soulless, that sounds like a clear-cut case of vehicular assault, which [Google tells me] is a Class 5 felony in Colorado...

officially an esquire!

"Mom, I passed." I said.
"What?"
"I PASSED. The Massachusetts bar."

"See? Now don't you feel ashamed? For calling us crying hysterically so many times over the summer? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
"...Wha-"
"Never mind. You passed. Congratulations. Now let me get your father."
For those like my mother, who apparently had no doubts [yet called me in August to tell me I should start studying for the February bar just in case], thank you. For those of you I called hysterically crying every week other day over the summer, I couldn't have done it without you. For those of you who came back to read the blog after a long hiatus at the height of the cycling season, thank you. And extra thank yous to everyone who bit my head off and chewed me out when I tried to back out of taking the bar ten days before the exam.
You guys [plus a few bikes] got me through possibly the worst summer of my life. You guys are the best!

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.