Like a moth to the lame, a lemming to the fire, and a virgin to a cliff, Macro Monday has returned! [insert feigned applause and mumbled groans here] This time, it’s a two-parter.
Tag Archives | crush pasta
Broccoli & Barbells
Part I, The Broccoli
Wednesday was a planned day off the bike to get some things done during the day (the least of which included washing two months worth of mud off the Boone) before heading into the Stankment™ to do some treadmill sprint intervals and strength training in the evening.
It was also my day to not eat leftovers and make myself something tasty for lunch. That something was one of my fave standbys: whole wheat pasta tossed with fresh, store-bought, not at all locally grown, non-organic broccoli, garlic and extra virgin olive oil.
Lowlights & Lowerlights
Since I am not one to keep quiet (in the blogo-shere) even when I have nothing at all to say, I am putting up this post. Lucky for you there’s not much to it except some bitching about crap weather and some photos from around greater Michiganderburgh and food in my kitchen.
I knew going into this weekend that unless I got up at the ass crack of dawn on Saturday, my only day to ride would be Sunday. B had an away match Saturday afternoon, so most of the day would be spent driving and spectating. It didn’t really matter that much since the winds were gusting and the rain was pissing down all day. Perfect weather for sitting in a chair watching U12 soccer.
Rubber, Beans, Balls & Whore’s Chicken
I took delivery of some new rubber today in the form of the WTB Nano TCS 2.1. I picked up the 700 x 40 version of the tires for the Jake The Snake late last fall and really liked the way they rolled on Michiganderburgh’s shit pavement, dirt and gravel roads. Sadly, I am less and less enamored with using a that cross bike for dirt road and gravel riding/racing and have been turning to my 2010 Salsa El Mariachi 99% of the time. So I decided to pick up some tubeless ready Nanos for the coming season of shit road riding. The wider girth and tubeless compatibility should be just what I am looking for. Hopefully they will be just as at ease on [dry] Michigan singletrack for days when I want to roll the hardtail.
Sicily, Tuna & Pasta
I briefly mentioned in the opening paragraph of my last blog post that I made baked ziti for Wifey on Saturday to celebrate Valentine’s Day, what I didn’t mention was that while Wifey loved it, I wasn’t thrilled with it. For some reason I love Italian food but anytime I use red sauce I am left wishing I had made something else [also mentioned in the post Crush Pasta IV]. Sadly, my Valentine’s ziti was no different and I found it a sort of just “there.”
Whenever I feel I could have done a better job on a meal, especially something as simple as baked ziti, I try to make up for it as soon as possible. And that’s what I did today, poo-pooing Americanized Italian comfort food and embracing the Mediterranean flavors of Sicily.
Crush Pasta V
There was a tradition started long ago by someone, somewhere that says eating pork on New Year’s brings good luck (probably started by the pork people). I like good luck, but I’m not a huge fan of pork (roasts, etc.,), so I ventured as close as I really wanted to into the world of pork and made my Soiled Bolognese Sauce on New Year’s Day, which just so happens to include about a 1/2 pound of ground pork along with a 1/2 pound of ground chuck. Win.
Crush Pasta IV
Last week I made some pasta with (jarred) marinara sauce and homemade meatballs. As soon as I started eating it I found myself on my knees shaking my fork towards the food gods above, cursing them for letting me make pasta and jarred red sauce. Almost every time I eat it I end thinking it’s too salty and an evil bout of indigestion will be waiting for me within minutes of finishing. The only red pasta sauce I REALLY like these days is my homemade Bolognese sauce. With that said, I was in the mood for pasta today and remembered a recipe I made once last year that was pretty darn good and avoids straight up red sauce.
Crush Pasta III
The gun people have the NRA in their corner defending their right to blow big holes in things. Cigarettes have the tobacco industry and all those old smokers trying to look hip on ventilators in their corner. Sugar, which has come to be blamed for everything from childhood obesity, to Obamacare, to erectile dysfunction, has nearly the entire American food industry in its corner. And pasta? Well, pasta has me to champion how freaking good it is when eaten in moderation (although I prefer not to) and prepared with love (Note: please make a rainbow arc with your hands as you read the word love).
Pasta can warm the cockles of even the most staunch carb hater. Yeah, I’m looking at the Atkins people with their three meals a day of cheese & bacon but can’t walk up a flight of stairs and the ninety-nine dollars a pound, grass-fed, Cross-Fit doing, high horse riding Paleo people! Go ahead, hate on pasta! I’ll still be here eating it and loving it along with millions of Italians, the state of New Jersey and that hot Italian cook with the giant head on the Food Network. We be tight.
Crush Pasta II, I Like The Translation
This morning I found the above photo of Gianni Motta downing some pasta while racing, and I have to say it makes the perfect intro photo for today’s Cat 5 Cooking post on Spaghetti alla Puttanesca.
Spaghetti alla Puttanesca translates into “whore’s spaghetti ” or what my favorite voluptuous, turned thin(ish) recreational drug using celebrity chef Nigella Lawson calls “Slut’s Spaghetti.” I’m not real sure why slut is better than whore, but I digress. When a dish translates into a combination of pasta and whorism* I’m all in.
Crush Pasta
I love pasta and I am done trying pretend that I don’t, or that I can eat Primal or Paleo for more than a week or two before I realize that life is too short to not eat pasta (or beans for that matter). I’m sorry, but Italians have been eating the stuff forever and Italy has produced some pretty freaking legendary cyclists– none of which I recall being fat in their racing days. So as I often say on this blog (and in my daily life) “fuck it.” Or in this case, “Fuck it, I’m eating pasta.” Moderation and miles on the bike seems to work best for crushing pasta and not having to move up a belt size.