Sunday, July 6, 2014

Trailside Food Find

So today, while I was tripping gaily down Richards Hollow Trail (on two feet this time, not two wheels), I came across three off-road motorcyclists resting by the side of the stream.  I teased them for “cheating” before admitting that I, too, have been known to employ a motorized two wheeled vehicle to gain elevation at times.  I continued on my way, until one of them said something that stopped me dead in my tracks.  “Want some homemade cheese?”  My heart stopped.  “Whose home?” I asked back, in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner, while my heart stopped stopping and started pitter-pattering with anticipatory delight.  “Rockhill Creamery!,” came the reply, and a little flicker of recognition lit up my brain. “You’re the market cheese guy!”

Richards Hollow Trail Rockhill Creamery Pete
Pete the cheese guy and his old trials bike.


Yes, he was indeed the market cheese guy, whose stand I happily patronize several times each summer.  Not only did he send me home with a generous and delicious hunk of “No Name Tomme,” he also delivered a great tip for the Ducati “Hell on Wheels” trip I have planned for next week.
I am here to tell you, dear readers, that the business of skipping* past waterfalls and through great meadows of waist high bluebells is only made better with a mouthful of tasty alpine style cheese.

*In my mind, I was skipping.  The waterfall and bluebells (along with many other types of flowers, a bubbling stream, picturesque rocky outcrops, and a beaver dam) were for real.

Friday, June 6, 2014

The Daily Special: Dessert

You know your beagle’s got grit when she’s rattling the cage bars earlier than anticipated, after a major piece of surgery.  Bless that little goblin, but she sailed right through the cross-your-fingers-operation and the critical recovery period, and is home a full one to two days ahead of schedule.

Beagle Resting Comfortably


I think I’ll just let her sleep in that place right between the bedroom and kitchen while I put some bits and scraps from last week’s birthday cake to good use.

Strawberry Maria Cake

Whoopie!*  I’ve never been so happy to drain my bank account and not ride the Ducati to Colorado in my whole life!

*Whoopie Pies: Dig around your cookbooks and the internet for a chocolate cake/cupcake/whoopie pie recipe that uses your one remaining egg, and your extra, now untempered chocolate.  Bake off into little UFO shapes and fill with your leftover Strawberry Cloud Cream (or whatever you might have left in your pastry bag.)  Aren’t you glad you stabilized it? I’ll freeze them and call them fancy ice cream sandwiches.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

The Daily Special (Chinese Steamed Buns)

When you’ve canceled today’s planned motorcycle departure to Colorado, because your beagle is in surgery for a “large grapefruit sized” tumor on her little liver*, and you are so tired, but can’t sleep, and all you can do is knead your worry into bread dough, but it’s too hot to fire the oven for an hour or more, plus you have little bits of pork with chile paste leftover from last weekend’s birthday party, then what you do is add some sautéed mushrooms and onions, those remaining shreds of cabbage in the crisper drawer, a bit of garlic, ginger, soy, sriracha, and sesame, and make char siu bao**.

Plus, you have a few crappy archival photos from last time you made them. (No beagle in the hospital that time.) 

Char Siu Bao 003

Chinese Steamed Buns

Char Siu Bao 010



We’re not out of the woods yet, but the surgery went really well.***


Beagle with Chicken
The face I see when she's at my feet in the kitchen.

Another thing you can do is paint your bedroom pink. I did that yesterday.


*She didn’t tell me about it at all. I found it during a belly rub. 
** Use any simple, soft, white, yeasted bread dough recipe.  I'll often fly in the face of convention and add just a small fraction of whole wheat flour.  Let it rise a bit, portion it out, roll flat, fill, wrap them, then steam them for 15 minutes or so. Silly, puffy, good!  They’re also really inexpensive, which is handy, since I just completely emptied my wallet for this little veterinary adventure.  Beagle repairs, as it turns out, are significantly more expensive than Ducati repairs.
***If she makes it through these next critical 48-72 hours, the prognosis is very, very good.  “Littlest love,” I reminded her right before she was admitted. “Littlest only in stature!”
UPDATE - see "Dessert" here.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Sweet Homecoming (Again)

At first I thought my air compressor was broken.  Rrrr, rrrr, rrrr, it could barely muster enough energy to make a sound.  But ho ho, no no!  It wasn’t the air compressor, it was the motorcycle.  Clicky, clicky.  No starty, starty.  The Ducati had failed self proclaimed Ducati test day.  It would not, could not start, it would not be charged, it could not be jumped, it would not be bumped.  (I didn't try to bump it, but it rhymes, okay?)  Given its history and my long absence, I guess I wasn’t surprised, but that doesn’t mean I had to be happy about it. There was good reason to believe it was just the battery, but, honestly, in all my life it’s never been “just the battery.”  No, not once, not ever.  Not this time, and certainly not last summer in southern Utah, when every last bit of the Ducati’s alternator insulation melted away like so much dark chocolate on a June day in my not so climate controlled house*.

Aside from celebrating the fact I was in the same locality as my motorcycles for the first time in two months, this ride was specifically designed to answer two questions.  1) Is the Ducati running? (Answer: No)   2) Can I still corner respectably?  So I went up the mountain in search of Answer 2 on the trusty old Kawasaki.  (Answer: Yes)**   Bless that bike, it’s 15 years old, has never seen the inside of a shop, is held together with more tape than a toddler’s first gift wrap job, and, last link not withstanding, runs happily every time.

Yesterday, I put a new battery in the Ducati.  Damn that M696 design team, but you actually have to pull the gas tank to do so.  It took me utterly by surprise, but when that machine gaily started, I actually burst into tears of relief. It really was just the battery!***


Ducati Hoodoos Mount Lemmon
Ducati with Mount Lemmon hoodoos.


On the way home from today's post-op ride, I picked up enough pork shoulder to test the capacity of my top box.  I'll simmer it slowly it in a silky, shimmering, red mud bath of Eating on Two Wheels chile paste.


Chile Paste
Good red chile paste sorcery can and does cast a hypnotically alluring magical spell.  You may even accidentally cast it upon yourself.

Colorado trip next week?****  "We are ready to go!"*****

*But, WAIT!  My house has recently become so climate controlled that I actually tempered chocolate in it earlier this week.  In May.  In Tucson.  I love my little ductless minisplit heating/cooling unit!!  What’s next, croissants in June?
**An additional question remains unanswered: Why do you need a shiny sports car to drive up Mount Lemmon at 30mph?
***So what if I jostled the lambda sensor when wrestling with the tank, such that 10 minutes into my test ride today, the engine light went on?  The real miracle here, folks, is that I could interpret the error code, knew what and where said lambda sensor was, and could re-jostle it all in the T.J.Maxx parking lot.
**** As it turns, out, we didn't go to Colorado.
*****You have to say that part aloud, in the same voice Pilot Guy uses to radio the airport tower when we've successfully completed our run up, are poised at the runway hold short lines, and are, well, ready to go!

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Sweet Homecoming

The bikes are running,* the desert is blooming…

Saguaro National Park West
The ironwood trees are blooming like crazy this year.  Time for another ride through Ironwood Forest National Monument.


Saguaro in Bloom on Cresta Loma
All the saguaro with full heads of blooms are impossibly out of reach. So are those whose luscious fruit, red as sin, is tantalizingly split open. The doves can reach them easily enough, though, as can the Tohono O’odham people, who use long sticks (saguaro ribs, I think) to knock them down for the noble purpose of wine making.


…and the burritos are actually pretty good***! 

Horseshoe Barbecue
How delicious to be back in the land of Sonoran tortillas, the only flour tortillas fit for human consumption. Unless you’ve been here, or make them yourselves, you simply don’t know. My deepest condolences.


Sweet Jesus, I am home!**. I'm not ashamed to admit I kinda got choked up today.

*Well the Yamaha is. Tomorrow is Ducati test day.  It (and I) are headed to CO soon.
**After two months of exile in Flatistan, where, you can see, I wasn’t exactly suffering, but still… 
***The customary taco truck was AWOL, but Horseshoe Barbecue surpassed my expectations. 

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Everglades Pedal No. 2

Since I enjoyed my first two wheeled exploration of Everglades National Park so much, I expanded the idea to a 40 mile pedal trip this week, along the park’s main road to the Florida Bay.

Because nearly an entire continent separates me from my adventure toys,  I loaded up a borrowed car with a borrowed bicycle, borrowed helmet, borrowed backpack, and not borrowed lunch (garlicky lima bean hummus sandwiches*) and set out.  To buy water. Because even my Camelbak and sturdy refillable water bottles are in Arizona, and I had no faith in the flip top plastic water bottle at my disposal. Anyone who has lived in Arizona (or any desert) for more than, say, five minutes, develops a keen Desert Water Sense which is, really, a controlled form of paranoia. This is why I paid a mighty premium for Fiji brand water, because its cap and bottle look the least penetrable by any foreign object that  might be bouncing around with it in my pack.  And I bought approximately twice the amount I’d need.  It’s not possible to simply disengage one’s Desert Water Sense just because one happens to be in Florida.

The road was full of enormous colorful grasshoppers.  Either they stick to tires, or Darwin has done great work in adapting them, because I didn’t see a single squished one.

Everglades National Park by Bicycle Lubber Grasshopper
Lubber Grasshopper?



If you are, like me, not equipped to drink water on the fly, Nine Mile Pond is a good place to stop to pull your water bottle out of your backpack.  There’s no long access road that adds miles to your journey (I quickly came to understand the importance of this when rolling sans engine), and you can sit and contemplate the interesting signage.

Everglades National Park by Bicycle Ride Nine Mile Pond
Should I cover my bicycle with one of the provided “vulture tarps?” 



 West Lake is even better.  Because it has shade.  And ducks instead of vandalous vultures.

Everglades National Park by Bicycle West Lake Trail


Everglades by Bicycle West Lake Ducks



Be prepared to do a bit of hill climbing.

Everglades National Park by Bicycle Rock Reef Pass
Sweet victory at the summit!



Arriving at the Florida Bay is unexpectedly similar to arriving at the Grand Canyon.  After miles of arguably unremarkable flat and scrubby (or grassy, in this case) landscape - BAM!  There it is.  Sparkling turquoise waters speckled with green island jewels.

Everglades National Park by Bicycle Florida Bay


I really wanted this to be an amazing photo that captured what I saw and how I felt upon seeing the bay for the first time. It isn’t. And doesn't.  At all.  I’m convinced an aerial photo is the way to go.  Which is not out of the realm of possibility, as you may know.

I have actually been to this spot once before, on the back of a red motorcycle, even.  It was a Very Long Time Ago, decades before the age of my own motorcycle enlightenment.  Oh, how little did I know then!

Score one point for Desert Water Sense.  I told you so.

Water Boil Alert Flamingo Visitor Center Everglades National Park
Precautionary Water Boil Notice for the Flamingo Visitor Center area.


The entire round trip from the Coe Visitor Center, at the park entrance, to the Flamingo Visitor Center on the Florida Bay is 76 miles. If you, like me, are only masquerading as a bicyclist for the day, you may decide that a one way trip is plenty.  If only the park had a return shuttle for us weary amateur bicyclists with our heavy bikes and packs!  It does not. So park your car at Mahogany Hammock and pedal your way to Flamingo Visitor and back.    With the Mahogany Hammock access road, your round trip will be about 40 miles.  It doesn’t quite have the glory as the 38 mile one way trip to Florida Bay, but at this point in my bicycling career it seemed prudent. 

I walked the short boardwalk at Mahogany Hammock when I arrived, victorious, back at my car.  It seemed like a good way to keep my legs from seizing up on the way home. I have to say, those first few steps weren’t pretty.  But the trees in the hammock were gorgeous!

Everglades National Park by Bicycle Mahogony Hammock Trail
No idea what kind of tree this is.  Anyone?


If you can manage to stumble along just a little bit longer, please do not miss the short but lively Anhinga Trail on the way out of the park.  This is the place to view wildlife, even if you do not have the energy left to photograph it.  And in the early evening, there’s plenty of action.  I saw an*** anhinga juggle a too-big fish for a surprising amount of time before ultimately losing hold of it. Plunk!  Alligators were slowly cruising across the water, occasionally slipping under the surface like sinister submarines.  An adorable baby alligator, 18 inches in length at best, was wiggling about in the dark mud, obviously up to something (what?), and I heaved a wistful sigh. Why can’t they stay cute?  A big one stealthily cranked open his (her?) jaws, and – POW!  It got itself some dinner.  I couldn’t see who was the dinner.

Speaking of eating, I did have a few food finds on the way back to Miami.

It’s a shame these folks were closed by the time I was done pedaling. It’s not often I can combine some modest wine tasting with two-wheeled touring****.  I have no idea if wine made from tropical fruit is any good, but I’d be happy to evaluate it!  Add one item to the “Next Time” list.

Schnebly Winery Sign


I was just contemplating turning around after carelessly driving past a sign reading “You’ve Seen the Gators, Now Taste ‘Em!”, when I found the “Robert is Here” fruit stand.  Of all the unusual fruits I could have chosen, I’m not sure why I got a mango.  I guess all my brain glucose had gone to my legs by that point.  Add another item to the “Next Time” list.  Still, it was exquisitely flavorful, juicy, and ripe – deliciously quenching after my day of pedaling in the tropical heat.

Robert is Here Fruit Stand Mangoes



Robert is Here Fruit Stand Jack Fruit



Robert is Here Fruit Stand Mamey Sapote
Now I know where to go for Mamey Sapote, as called for in my Charlie Trotter’s Desserts cookbook*****. Tastes like pumpkin cheesecake, I’m told.  I’m in. 
  

Robert is Here Fruit Stand Guanabana


*Because good cooks aren’t necessarily good, they just know what do to with their mistakes.  My recent inattention in the kitchen resulted in overcooked and undersalted lima beans. Blech.  Mash ‘em up with olive oil, lots of raw garlic, something spicy, and some lemon, (no tahini or even peanut butter on hand), and call yourself creative for making hummus out of dried lima beans.
**Come to think of it, I was once hit by a vulture when riding. Yes, it hit me.  Ouch.
***An anhinga?  A anhinga?  I dare you to say it aloud.  Have a drink or two, first.
****Alcohol does not pass my lips when mounted upon a motorcycle. Ever.
*****May he Rest In Peace.  He died suddenly in his home last November.  A stroke, they say.  The cookbook, incidentally, is not for the faint of heart. The desserts are all you would expect, but you’ll put in a good day’s work to make them.  Totally Worth It.

Monday, April 14, 2014

When in Rome, Grab a Paddle

One more month to go on my Flatistan Tour of Duty.  I’m going a little crazy. I miss my mountains and motorcycles.  Last week, on my day off, I threw myself onto the bed in a dramatic manner unsurpassed by any 13 year old.  I’m boooooored!  There’s nothing to dooooo here!!!  Pilot Guy suggested my sulking would be more effective if I locked my bedroom door and spent the afternoon drawing unicorns with a sparkly pen in a pink and purple spiral notebook.  “Add a rainbow or two,” he suggested.  It didn’t help.

I really, really need a Florida Friendly Activity.  So yesterday, in an emergency procedure,  I bought an inexpensive “recreational kayak.”

Kayak Trial Delnor-Wiggins Pass State Park 001

These are my feet, but they are not in my kayak.  This photo is from my
 pre-purchase rental trial day at Delnor-Wiggins State Park. 

Creepy mangrove trail.  I'm not looking forward to my first alligator sighting.
But I have a paddle, and I'm not afraid to use it.



Today I took her for her maiden circumnavigation around my parents’ neighborhood.

Longshore Lake Navigational Chart
Three miles and change, I think.


I noticed a funny thing while paddling around this winding watery racetrack.  When the going got tough (read: headwind),  I unconsciously defaulted to the cornering lines I know best. So far, I corner significantly better on the Ducati than in the kayak. 

Otters, herons, ospreys, ibis, anhingas, a duck with a dozen just-in-time-for-Easter ducklings... all sorts of things to see!

Longshore Lake Maiden Circumnavigation 002


There were some notable comestibles as well.  Plenty of coconuts lined the shore, which prompted me to add "hacksaw and/or hammer?" to my kayak adventure pack list. A few of them had the surprising habit of getting up, walking a few feet, and plopping into the water, at which time I reclassified them as turtles.  And there are some ducks that for all the world look like Barbary ducks, origin of magret, that succulent like-filet-mignon-but-better red meat (yes, red!) duck breast capped with a golden crust of mouthwatering, crispy, fatty skin... oh my!  I could not convince even one of those ducks on board.

But if I ever do, my kayak has little hatch in which to store my magret picnic lunch.

Longshore Lake Maiden Circumnavigation 004
As you can see, my kayak is a shade of orange only a KTM rider could love.
I've no idea what species of waterfowl this specimen is.  Is it time to invest in a waterproof bird book?

Next up, the 99 miles of Wilderness Waterway in Everglades National Park?

For all you Ducati people out there, I call her “The Des-NO*.”  Get it?  I crack myself up.

*For you non-Ducati people out there, Ducatis are known for their proprietary “desmodromic” aka “desmo” valve operating system.  Get it now?  Desmo?  Des-NO? Yeah, I’m that clever.