Tonight I would have classified my refrigerator as "empty". Most normal people would consider the edible contents to be milk, water (and the Brita filter could probably be replaced) and almond butter, and to have a full serving of the almond butter one would need to scrap the jar clean. There are a few things in there that should have been thrown away a while back... and they'll all be thrown out tomorrow before I head to Washington, D.C. to spend the weekend with my sister and head to a conference for work.
After spending too much money on two new suits for work and some dresses for next weekend, I didn't feel inclined to spend money on take out. There was only enough money left in "the budget" for a bottle of Chardonnay. Obviously.
As I walked home from my funny little wine shop, I contemplated a quick stop at Gourmet Garage, but I was far too lazy for shopping and remembered that there were a few strands of spaghetti left in a box in the top of of my cupboard. Spaghetti, butter, garlic, and cracked red pepper was going to be dinner for me!
Once home, I opened the cabinet to pull down the spagehtti and found a bag of papardelle that I purchased last weekend. My Favorite!
Papardelle, at least the way I've always enjoyed it, is one of those delicious pastas that when paired with a braised meat and long-stewed tomatoes becomes one of those savory comfort foods that makes you want to smack your mother and thank her that you were born Italian, even if you're nothing but an American born Northern European mutt like me.
I pulled open the freezer to grab some ice and saw a bag of peas in the freezer door. Hmmm... Papardelle and Peas? I opened the refrigerator door to pull out some butter and garlic and found some fresh mint. I lie, it was less than fresh mint, but there were a few green leaves left. Mint and Peas are quite nice, maybe mixed with my favorite pasta they'd make a decent dinner?
Yes, in fact, it was more than a decent dinner! I'm not certain that the Italians would treat papardelle the way I did tonight, but I can assure you it is a quick and delicious dish.
1/2 lb Papardelle, prepared according to packaged instructions, reserving 1/4 C of cooking water
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 cup green peas
1 clove garlic minced
Salt and pepper to taste
2 T butter
1 T fresh mint, chopped
Shaved Parmesan cheese
Cook the pasta by following the instructions on the package and drain.
In a small saute pan over medium-low heat, melt butter with garlic for 3 - 5 minutes. Add peas, mint, salt and pepper and cook for about 2 minutes. Add lemon and 1/4 cup water reserved from pasta and cook for another minute. Add pasta and toss until liquid is reduced. Serve immediately with shaved Parmesan.
I would share pictures, but it was tasty and I ate it too quickly! Forgive me.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Only In New York: A Cab Ride Home Ended with a Visit from NYPD
Only In New York will be another one of my "themed" postings. Some things ONLY happen here... While this situation could happen elsewhere, I'm pretty sure that it would only happen to me in New York and I certainly never hope it happens to anyone else! Ever.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about my new "Dinner Club" and our first meal at Dirt Candy. Our schedules finally aligned again and we met at Rajal's favorite spot, Battali's Lupa, where she "could eat dinner every night." It goes without saying that I love Mario Battali, and now, like Rajal could have "him" cook for me every night at Lupa. I indulged in bread and pasta with plans to make practice (hill repeats) the next morning... That didn't happen!
Unlike our friend Yonca who parted our company wisely taking public transportation home, Rajal and I shared a cab uptown. Between Soho and her home in Gramercy I recall commenting, "This driver is rather kamikaze!"
Halfway to my place we dropped her off and headed to my place on the Upper East Side. There was construction on Third Avenue near the entrance for the 59th Street Bridge that caused two lane closures, and as a result a van in the lane to our left was nervously close to our cab and nearly cut off my driver, but didn't. The hint though of being cutoff incensed my highly aggressive cabbie, who then swerved into the center lane, and then sped across two lanes to dramatically, and dangerously force the van toward the sidewalk in front of Bloomingdales. It was happening so quickly that I felt like I was watching myself in some sort of movie stunt. Held in place by a red light the cabbie rolled down his window and began to mumble curses at the driver of the van, who then rolled down his window and as the tempers grew more engraged, so did the volume of their curses and their vileness. Disgusted, I piped up, "Excuse me, sir? This really is unnecessary, please stop." He ignored me. When the light turned green we went through the intersection like there was a checkered flag at 65th Street and he had to take the lead. I have no proof, but I'm quite sure there was tire rubber left on the road and smoke in the wake of Cab# 4B38. Yes, I logged the number of his medallion in plans to report his behavior to 311.
About 100 feet from my apartment building I let him know that he could stop the cab, that we were at my destination. He slammed the brakes so hard, that my knees went into the partition. On the phone already with 311, I handed him the portion of the fare that Rajal had paid and informed him that for his behavior I would not pay the full fair. As I walked toward my building, I heard him yelling and turned around to see him running at me, hands waving in the air. "You! You'll pay the full fare. Get back into the cab and pay me! Who do you think you are, throwing money at me and running out of my cab?"
"I told you why I'm not paying you. You were unsafe and your behavior was offensive. I'm not paying you for that! I'm reporting you to 311."
My arguments were doing little, in fact nothing, to make him go back to his cab and he was now in my face, spit was landing on my face as he continued screaming at me to pay him. As I tried to walk away from him, he pulled at my bag and dragged me back toward him. At one point he even pushed me. It was still early enough in the evening that there were people passing on the street. Each of them minding their own business, careful not to help a woman in distress.
I told him that if he touched me again I would call 911.
"Go ahead! Call 911! You still owe me for your fare. You're paying me!"
When I mentioned 911, I looked down the street and noticed a man watching from afar who pulled out his phone, and my good nature believed that he was making this call for me. From a window above me I heard a man yelling, "Mam, Mam! Do you need help!"
"Yes!"
Reluctant to wait for my neighbor and be pushed or pulled again or otherwise physically harmed, I started walking to the diner on my corner, where maybe the cabbie would be shamed to walk back into his cab, or at least I would feel safer in my public shame of fighting with an unstable cab driver.
As I turned to walk, I noticed the traffic jam that the driver had caused when leaving his cab in the middle of the street. Another cabbie was approaching 4B38. The thing about crazy people, is that when angered, they lose their senses and leave their keys in the ignition of a running car when they leave it. The other cabbie opened the driver side door of crazy man's cab, drawing the nut back to his cage.
I ran for it.
In terror I feverishly put my key in the front door of my building, turned and too quickly forced the door shut onto my gym bag. As I paused to pull my bag through and force the door shut and locked, I saw the man running out from his cab and toward my building. Safe behind the door, I turned around, and carefully, slowly walked up the stairs, re-dialing 311 as I climbed to my home on the 4th floor of a walkup building.
I shared my story with the 311 agent who was beyond sympathetic and then informed me that I had been assaulted and that he would be patching the call through to 911. Ten minutes later two NYPD in blue were at my door. Adding insult to injury they could do nothing but to confirm that 911 had taken my address and that a police report would be mailed to my home, adding serious insult neither of these men in uniform were single or good looking.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about my new "Dinner Club" and our first meal at Dirt Candy. Our schedules finally aligned again and we met at Rajal's favorite spot, Battali's Lupa, where she "could eat dinner every night." It goes without saying that I love Mario Battali, and now, like Rajal could have "him" cook for me every night at Lupa. I indulged in bread and pasta with plans to make practice (hill repeats) the next morning... That didn't happen!
Unlike our friend Yonca who parted our company wisely taking public transportation home, Rajal and I shared a cab uptown. Between Soho and her home in Gramercy I recall commenting, "This driver is rather kamikaze!"
Halfway to my place we dropped her off and headed to my place on the Upper East Side. There was construction on Third Avenue near the entrance for the 59th Street Bridge that caused two lane closures, and as a result a van in the lane to our left was nervously close to our cab and nearly cut off my driver, but didn't. The hint though of being cutoff incensed my highly aggressive cabbie, who then swerved into the center lane, and then sped across two lanes to dramatically, and dangerously force the van toward the sidewalk in front of Bloomingdales. It was happening so quickly that I felt like I was watching myself in some sort of movie stunt. Held in place by a red light the cabbie rolled down his window and began to mumble curses at the driver of the van, who then rolled down his window and as the tempers grew more engraged, so did the volume of their curses and their vileness. Disgusted, I piped up, "Excuse me, sir? This really is unnecessary, please stop." He ignored me. When the light turned green we went through the intersection like there was a checkered flag at 65th Street and he had to take the lead. I have no proof, but I'm quite sure there was tire rubber left on the road and smoke in the wake of Cab# 4B38. Yes, I logged the number of his medallion in plans to report his behavior to 311.
About 100 feet from my apartment building I let him know that he could stop the cab, that we were at my destination. He slammed the brakes so hard, that my knees went into the partition. On the phone already with 311, I handed him the portion of the fare that Rajal had paid and informed him that for his behavior I would not pay the full fair. As I walked toward my building, I heard him yelling and turned around to see him running at me, hands waving in the air. "You! You'll pay the full fare. Get back into the cab and pay me! Who do you think you are, throwing money at me and running out of my cab?"
"I told you why I'm not paying you. You were unsafe and your behavior was offensive. I'm not paying you for that! I'm reporting you to 311."
My arguments were doing little, in fact nothing, to make him go back to his cab and he was now in my face, spit was landing on my face as he continued screaming at me to pay him. As I tried to walk away from him, he pulled at my bag and dragged me back toward him. At one point he even pushed me. It was still early enough in the evening that there were people passing on the street. Each of them minding their own business, careful not to help a woman in distress.
I told him that if he touched me again I would call 911.
"Go ahead! Call 911! You still owe me for your fare. You're paying me!"
When I mentioned 911, I looked down the street and noticed a man watching from afar who pulled out his phone, and my good nature believed that he was making this call for me. From a window above me I heard a man yelling, "Mam, Mam! Do you need help!"
"Yes!"
Reluctant to wait for my neighbor and be pushed or pulled again or otherwise physically harmed, I started walking to the diner on my corner, where maybe the cabbie would be shamed to walk back into his cab, or at least I would feel safer in my public shame of fighting with an unstable cab driver.
As I turned to walk, I noticed the traffic jam that the driver had caused when leaving his cab in the middle of the street. Another cabbie was approaching 4B38. The thing about crazy people, is that when angered, they lose their senses and leave their keys in the ignition of a running car when they leave it. The other cabbie opened the driver side door of crazy man's cab, drawing the nut back to his cage.
I ran for it.
In terror I feverishly put my key in the front door of my building, turned and too quickly forced the door shut onto my gym bag. As I paused to pull my bag through and force the door shut and locked, I saw the man running out from his cab and toward my building. Safe behind the door, I turned around, and carefully, slowly walked up the stairs, re-dialing 311 as I climbed to my home on the 4th floor of a walkup building.
I shared my story with the 311 agent who was beyond sympathetic and then informed me that I had been assaulted and that he would be patching the call through to 911. Ten minutes later two NYPD in blue were at my door. Adding insult to injury they could do nothing but to confirm that 911 had taken my address and that a police report would be mailed to my home, adding serious insult neither of these men in uniform were single or good looking.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Sunday Funday of Another Taste
I'm a huge fan of a Sunday Funday!
There was a time in my life when I could pull them off every weekend. As I've "aged" my ability to drink all day on Sunday and behave like a rational adult on Monday has dwindled, and in the middle of Tri-season I have desire to wake up hung over on a Monday morning, and little time to finish that which I need to do on the weekends. Today's training called for a 1:45 run, which was shortened to 90 minutes for me and 90 minute swim. To get to practice at 145th and Riverside from my apartment at 65th and 1st Ave, I decided to ride my bike, as public transportation would be shoddy as would the traffic as today is the day of the Puerto Rico Parade. It was a 12 mile round trip bike ride to get to practice, and on my way home, I debated on whether or not to reach out to a friend for some drunk brunch activity.
I resisted.
And resorted to doing my laundry.
Laundry proved extremely stressful, prompting prayers for my next apartment to include a washer and dryer in the unit at whatever cost. I hate having to do laundry at a crowded laundromat. On top of that, my legs were worn out from my workout and my apartment on the 4th floor of a walk up building felt like climbing a stairway to heaven. Needless to say my iced coffee was doing little for cutting my nerves and tension. After my third ascent to the apartment, I remembered that on Friday, I had found a new margarita mix at one of my favorite wine establishments on the UES, Garnet at 68th and Lexington. It may have have more sugar than "Skinny Girl," but it has a whole lot more flavor too.
The first sip reminded me of my childhood. That's not to say that my parents were delinquents who encouraged under-aged drinking. Rather, I remembered the first time my Mother (likely more stressed than me from watching her children run around the pool on a long summer day) come home and throw some magical ingredients into a kitchen-aide and hit the "blend" button. She let me have one sip and it was delicious. Cold, tart, and a distinct bite that I would come to enjoy many years later, although I am pretty sure that I liked it well enough then, too!
While I should have been beat today, this magic concoction from VnC Cocktails helped me power through three loads of laundry, a bike cleaning, closet transition, ironing, detailed bathroom cleaning, and vacuuming! Indeed, it was a Sunday Funday of another sort!
There was a time in my life when I could pull them off every weekend. As I've "aged" my ability to drink all day on Sunday and behave like a rational adult on Monday has dwindled, and in the middle of Tri-season I have desire to wake up hung over on a Monday morning, and little time to finish that which I need to do on the weekends. Today's training called for a 1:45 run, which was shortened to 90 minutes for me and 90 minute swim. To get to practice at 145th and Riverside from my apartment at 65th and 1st Ave, I decided to ride my bike, as public transportation would be shoddy as would the traffic as today is the day of the Puerto Rico Parade. It was a 12 mile round trip bike ride to get to practice, and on my way home, I debated on whether or not to reach out to a friend for some drunk brunch activity.
I resisted.
And resorted to doing my laundry.
Laundry proved extremely stressful, prompting prayers for my next apartment to include a washer and dryer in the unit at whatever cost. I hate having to do laundry at a crowded laundromat. On top of that, my legs were worn out from my workout and my apartment on the 4th floor of a walk up building felt like climbing a stairway to heaven. Needless to say my iced coffee was doing little for cutting my nerves and tension. After my third ascent to the apartment, I remembered that on Friday, I had found a new margarita mix at one of my favorite wine establishments on the UES, Garnet at 68th and Lexington. It may have have more sugar than "Skinny Girl," but it has a whole lot more flavor too.
While I should have been beat today, this magic concoction from VnC Cocktails helped me power through three loads of laundry, a bike cleaning, closet transition, ironing, detailed bathroom cleaning, and vacuuming! Indeed, it was a Sunday Funday of another sort!
Monday, May 30, 2011
The things that make my mother nuts: Theft
"The things that make my mother nuts" is a new entry that I will post. In general, this will include things that I will do, think, or say that will make my mother shudder, twist with discomfort, and say, "Sara Ellison, I did not raise you to do such a thing!" Knowing full well, that at the end of the day, she'll shrug and laugh it off, I'll never really embarass her because I love her too much and appreciate her beyond human recognition.
Having said all of that... I love a souvenir. The souvenir you can steal.
At my thirtieth birthday, when attempting to steal the coffee mug from Cornelia Street Cafe, Mom said to me, "SARA ELLISON, CAN YOU REALLY BE PROUD OF YOURSELF?" To be honest, the service and food preparation that evening owed me much more than a comped mug, but I was not about to get into it with my conservative mother. I left the mug there, but have contemplated my return, and thought of my mother's disdain upon my pocketing of empty beverage vessels, including this one from our luncheon spot in Beget.
Thanks to our friends who did not ride, we (Paulette, Gregoire, and me) picked up the infamous beer glasses from our luncheon spot and stuffed them into our friend's backback so that we could remember fondly our long ride to Beget, our drunken luncheon, and long ride home.
Today, I took a break from sober summer to enjoy a beer while preparing for some Memorial Day activities with friends. The beer in the glass is not Spanish, but the memories are still present, and my mother's disdain is pending...
Having said all of that... I love a souvenir. The souvenir you can steal.
At my thirtieth birthday, when attempting to steal the coffee mug from Cornelia Street Cafe, Mom said to me, "SARA ELLISON, CAN YOU REALLY BE PROUD OF YOURSELF?" To be honest, the service and food preparation that evening owed me much more than a comped mug, but I was not about to get into it with my conservative mother. I left the mug there, but have contemplated my return, and thought of my mother's disdain upon my pocketing of empty beverage vessels, including this one from our luncheon spot in Beget.
Thanks to our friends who did not ride, we (Paulette, Gregoire, and me) picked up the infamous beer glasses from our luncheon spot and stuffed them into our friend's backback so that we could remember fondly our long ride to Beget, our drunken luncheon, and long ride home.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Team Lipstick Training Camp in Spain
Last week was one of the best weeks of my life. It included six days of cycling around Northern Spain, through the Pyrenees Mountains, with two rides to the coast of the Mediterranean. The trip was a seven day training camp coordinated by Laura Cozik, Founder and CEO of Team Lipstick and Athletic Director for CNN Triathlon Challenge. I was invited and privileged to attend as a coach for the week.
We, five coaches and 22 athletes, stayed at the beautiful Mas Pelegri resort in Serinya, Spain, where our hosts Gareth and Fiona assisted Laura to make the week an exceptional experience that I will remember forever. Each of the six bike rides were challenging, but the gorgeous scenery proved a profound distraction to our burning quads and sore saddles. We enjoyed three gourmet meals at Mas Pelegri, served family style, roadside lunches that generally consisted of bocadillos, and a banquet lunch in Beget a town set deep in the Pyrenees with a population of 17.
The experience is one that I will never forget, and the relationships that were formed will be cherished for many years.
A diary of our training week is listed below, and the food experiences are captured in other entries! What is a trip to Spain without enjoying Jamon, Espresso, and one of the world's finest restaurants!
Saturday
Upon arrival at Mas Pelegri, I was greeted by an all carbon road bike made by Tiroler Nussol, furnished by Guido Eickelbeck. This bike literally had my name written all over it!
Not long after our arrival, some rain clouds rolled in. It was the only rain we would experience this week, and we made the most of it by going for a trail run around the Mas Pelegri property!
That night, we enjoyed getting to know one another over a meal of pumpkin soup, risotto, and figs with cream for dessert. After dinner, we chatted over a few rounds of cards and several bottles of wine...
Sunday started with a swim at 7:00am followed by breakfast and a 45 mile ride with a stop in Girona, where the annual flower festival was taking place.
The calm before the swim...
On Monday, we ran 6 miles of trail around Mas Pelegri before breakfast at 8:00am and riding to Aiguablava where we did an open swim in the Mediterranean, and hopped back onto our bikes for a fast return home, the goal was to make it home before dark. That didn't happen...
Stu, prepared a picnic for us on the beach!
A year ago, Vivian started training with the first beginner group that I assisted Laura in preparing for their first triathlon. She could not swim. One of the best moments of my coaching career was experiencing this open water swim in the Mediterranean with her!
The view of Aiguablava from afar...
Begur is the town at the beak of the mountain before the decent to Aiguablava. Quite a view!
Tried as we might, we endeavored to make it home before nightfall. Alas, the sun set, we made a wrong turn, after this roundabout and found ourselves, cold and in the dark in front of a pig farm. Thanks to Fatima, Laura and Stu found us with the van and brought us safely home! Those are the adventures, or mis-adventures, that start some fantastic friendships!
Tuesday marked our third day of training and included a fierce climb up Roca Corba, followed by an open swim in Lake Banyoles and a run. A few mis-haps caused me to miss the climb, but allowed me to spend some time with Tatyana who was quite new to the bike. We enjoyed a liesurely ride around the Lake, took in some of the scenery and sipped some espresso before the open swim and run!
Wednesday, training day #4, was to be a 100 mile trip to Cadaques and back. This is the town where Dali resided. When I saw the town, I had to stay for more than the 20 minutes allotted to the group returning, so I opted to ride back in the van to have extra time in the coastal city and to enjoy some tapas with some travel pals.
The view of the ocean beyond. The views were incredible, and only got better, but the best was on the descent into Cadaques. However, the speed at which I was heading down the hill and the winding turns prevented me from snapping any photos.
Despite riding on shredded legs, Charlotte sang her way up the hill and taught me a new tune!
Enjoying a Michelada (aka, Shanti), which is ceveza con limon (aka, beer and lemonade) with Denise.
Two of our tapas dishes: salad and chorizo
The city is spectacular. Everything seemed dazzling and the white was so white!
Salvador Dali and me.
Day Five, Thursday, of training was a lighter day of training with a 25 mile ride that included a stop in Bezalu, before returning to Lake Banyoles for another open water swim and a train run around the lake.
A little known fact about me is that I love Poppies! They abound in this area of Spain, and while this picture poorly exemplifies the fields and rows of poppies that lined the streets, it still makes me quite happy!
One of my favorite things of our rides was riding through the small towns and villages. The roads are narrow, but so scenic, and add a technical element to the rides too... specifically when approaching a tight turn at 23 miles an hour!
The roof-lines of the cathedral at Bezalu begs the question, is this a roof-line or a garden?
The Bridge into Bezalu.
Fiona and Gareth served up a delicious barbecue for us to enjoy as the sunset on Thursday evening.
Training Camp concluded on Friday with a 75 mile ride to Beget. While the shortest of our long rides, this was more challenging course, with more climbing, which meant more descending! Whee! We rode about 50 miles to Beget and then home 25.
Matt and me preparing for the ride Friday morning. Matt and I have been around since the beginning of TL, he was originally a running coach, and then became our running and cycling coach, I was one of the first athletes, who became the beginner's coach.
In person, this town is stunning! It is hard to tell if the town grew out of the rock, if part of the rock dropped off at some point leaving a row of homes on a cliff, or if people really were just crazy enough to build at the edge...
The great thing about hilly courses is the views!
Finally! We reached Beget, a town deep in the Pyrenees that is reported to have a population of 17.
Suffice it to say, after an 8km descent, we all needed a drink... or two...
We, five coaches and 22 athletes, stayed at the beautiful Mas Pelegri resort in Serinya, Spain, where our hosts Gareth and Fiona assisted Laura to make the week an exceptional experience that I will remember forever. Each of the six bike rides were challenging, but the gorgeous scenery proved a profound distraction to our burning quads and sore saddles. We enjoyed three gourmet meals at Mas Pelegri, served family style, roadside lunches that generally consisted of bocadillos, and a banquet lunch in Beget a town set deep in the Pyrenees with a population of 17.
The experience is one that I will never forget, and the relationships that were formed will be cherished for many years.
A diary of our training week is listed below, and the food experiences are captured in other entries! What is a trip to Spain without enjoying Jamon, Espresso, and one of the world's finest restaurants!
Saturday
Upon arrival at Mas Pelegri, I was greeted by an all carbon road bike made by Tiroler Nussol, furnished by Guido Eickelbeck. This bike literally had my name written all over it!
Not long after our arrival, some rain clouds rolled in. It was the only rain we would experience this week, and we made the most of it by going for a trail run around the Mas Pelegri property!
Sunday started with a swim at 7:00am followed by breakfast and a 45 mile ride with a stop in Girona, where the annual flower festival was taking place.
The calm before the swim...
Stu, prepared a picnic for us on the beach!
Fatima, Denise and Gregoire riding into the sunset...
Wednesday, training day #4, was to be a 100 mile trip to Cadaques and back. This is the town where Dali resided. When I saw the town, I had to stay for more than the 20 minutes allotted to the group returning, so I opted to ride back in the van to have extra time in the coastal city and to enjoy some tapas with some travel pals.
The view of the ocean beyond. The views were incredible, and only got better, but the best was on the descent into Cadaques. However, the speed at which I was heading down the hill and the winding turns prevented me from snapping any photos.
Despite riding on shredded legs, Charlotte sang her way up the hill and taught me a new tune!
A little known fact about me is that I love Poppies! They abound in this area of Spain, and while this picture poorly exemplifies the fields and rows of poppies that lined the streets, it still makes me quite happy!
Matt and me preparing for the ride Friday morning. Matt and I have been around since the beginning of TL, he was originally a running coach, and then became our running and cycling coach, I was one of the first athletes, who became the beginner's coach.
El Celler De Can Roca
While this trip to Spain was a training camp, there was no shortage of delicious food and wine. After all, if you're going to be biking, running, and swimming a minimum four hours per day, and up to 12 hours on one day, you have earned yourself the right to indulge a little! On the day that I was schedule to ride 100 miles to Cadaques and back, I cut my ride short to enjoy Tapas in Cadaques opting to ride home in the van. Food is my first love and to enjoy it to the capacity that I desire, I have embraced triathlon as a fitness lifestyle.
My friend and teammate, Fatima, organized a dinner at El Celler De Can Roca, currently the number two restaurant in the world!
My table enjoyed the Tasting Menu that included five courses, two desserts, and a series of aperitifs and nibbles compliments of the chefs, three brothers who own and run the restaurant. I also enjoyed the wine pairing, which included seven glasses of wine and Cava to start. I wish I had the foresight to bring a notebook and pen with me to write down each of the items and its paired wine, but I only left with the memory of an exquisite experience, and enjoying the meal with new friends and Bob, my date for the evening.
Below are some photos, stolen from Charlotte, of me enjoying my dining experience and the two desserts.
My friend and teammate, Fatima, organized a dinner at El Celler De Can Roca, currently the number two restaurant in the world!
My table enjoyed the Tasting Menu that included five courses, two desserts, and a series of aperitifs and nibbles compliments of the chefs, three brothers who own and run the restaurant. I also enjoyed the wine pairing, which included seven glasses of wine and Cava to start. I wish I had the foresight to bring a notebook and pen with me to write down each of the items and its paired wine, but I only left with the memory of an exquisite experience, and enjoying the meal with new friends and Bob, my date for the evening.
Below are some photos, stolen from Charlotte, of me enjoying my dining experience and the two desserts.
Espresso Love
One of the athletes on this trip knows me surprisingly better than I realized. Two weeks prior to the trip, she sent me a link to a blog entry about an ingenious wine rack for the bike. On day two of our trip in Spain, she photographed the Bialetti sitting in the kitchen window at Mas Pelegri, posted it to Facebook, and cleverly tagged me. I suppose I have shown up to coach practice too often with cafe con leche in my water bottle!
The coffee in Spain was incredible, and I have a new favorite: Cortado. At a small restaurant en route to Aiguablava, Tony, one of the athletes, introduced this to me at one of the many stops made by "Team Espresso." A Cortado is an espresso with a small amount of warm milk to reduce the acidity. The ratio of milk is between 1:1 - 1:2, and the milk is added after the espresso.
Here are a few shots of the restaurant where we stopped for some caffeinated refreshment! Just beyond the trees is the river...
Here are a few shots of the restaurant where we stopped for some caffeinated refreshment! Just beyond the trees is the river...
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