Archive for the 'Food Review' Category

The perils of carbohydrate loading (a five dams prelude)

A prelude should come before the main event, but in this case it was not possible to put finger to keypad until now because the act of carbohydrate loading for the Five Dams Challenge did not end til 4:50 am on Sunday when I was defeated by the prospect of a fourth Wheet-Bix. But more of that later.

Most of us know the benefit of a good breakfast before a long ride. Carb loading is an extension of that, and attempts to stuff as much carbs and water into your muscles as possible prior to a big day. I’ve done it before and I know it works, so it made sense to do it leading up to the Five Dams.

As luck would have it the most recent Ride On magazine distributed with BWA membership included an article on the subject by an AIS expert, more or less the same as their online version. The surprise here was how much sugary crap food was included in the sample diet, as opposed to the lashings of pasta and potatoes I had traditionally employed. Preparation is one thing but turning up with more pimples than I had as a teenager is quite another.

Further research suggested the real problem was that too much fibre suppressed carbohydrate take-up, so while I did add a guilt-free coke or two to my diet last week my main adjustment to previous methods was to avoid any nasty wholemeal products.

Having decided on a strategy the next challenge is implementation. “Eat lots of pasta/bread/potatoes” sounds simple enough but can prove surprisingly difficult. First your partner’s well-meaning mother bakes too much quiche, resulting in quiche and salad. Delicious but where are the carbs? Obviously in the 200 grams of pasta I had for dessert, much to Zippy’s consternation.

Lunch can be tricky too, since without eating twice it can be hard to up the carb content. Luckily I recalled a fast pasta joint in Hay Street whose large plate of pasta was at least a stop-gap on one day. On another day a Choc Milk and a plain bread roll augmented the standard fare.

If bought lunch can be hard, dinner is impossible. Gone are the days when going Italian meant a whacking great bowl of pasta for $8. These it’s a countable (four in this case) stack of neatly parceled tortellini for $25. Okay, it was delicious, but I could feel the carbs draining from my muscles with every missing mouthful.

Which brings me back to the forlorn fourth Wheet-Bix. In a pre-ride discussion with Spunker I had exhorted to him that the secret of success in riding 200 km was eating one more Wheet-Bix than you think you can possibly manage. For me two is generally plenty and three is a lot, so four seemed like the right amount, but when it came to the challenge I was found wanting. Perhaps it was because I took my breakfast in the bathroom, lest my clanking spoon awake the household, or perhaps it was because after four days of carb loading I was just plain stuffed and ready to put the carbs into action.

Only time would tell…

Makin’ bacon

After a month when it seemed like winter would never end I couldn’t have asked for better weather to celebrate ride to work day. Brilliant morning sunshine warming spring air just crisp enough to feel fresh, and a nice south-easterly to blow me into town to boot. Having expected to elbow my way up the freeway bike path, I was surprised to see how few riders were out. Perhaps it was already late for most of the breakfasts on offer, or perhaps it was a sign that so many people now ride there isn’t much scope for a flood of first-timers and once-a-year gimme-a-bacon-bun riders.

It was a little different as I made my way from the once familiar West Perth bike lock-up to the elevators, as Gags rolled in and bailed me up for the combination to the lock. My first challenge was to find O’Dirty, as I had not paid enough attention to the email describing the alternative access to the courtyard that needed to be used. Tempted to scale a wall or two I instead resorted to the cyclist’s best friend and phoned him up. Soon we had everything we needed except an eggflip and a key to the courtyard, but O’Dirty, resourceful as ever, quickly procured a key and determined he could handle the eggs with a knife and a spoon. It’s no small measure of his success that when someone temporarily took over the first thing they said was “where’s the eggflip?”, assuming his excellent results could only be the product of high technology.

Meanwhile I fried up the bacon. There would be no undercooked nonsense here, with crisp and crisper as the only options. Pacing myself carefully through an hour and a half of cooking I found ample chance to enjoy three samples of our handiwork, with orange juice the almost perfect chaser. (I can only hint, dear reader, at the profound strength of character your humble cooks displayed in not cracking open at least a couple of the bottles of the sparkling shiraz they happened on while searching for an eggflip.) The only thing missing (apart from said shiraz) was some good honest vegemite. I guess O’Dirty has only just passed his citizenship test and cannot be expected to think of the obvious all at once. HP sauce? Hardly a substitute but tasty nevertheless.

TdF? No, Paris-Brest

It wasn’t without some trepidation that this afternoon I ventured into restricted territory. As chance would have it I found myself in Kalamunda and was drawn to the counter of Paris-Brest like a small child to a bowl of candy that has been placed off limits. Risking public humiliation from O’Dirty and Paddles I was helping Bec complete her 25 hours now she has passed her driving test and I had also missed lunch. Could it really be as bad as the aforesaid duo had made out?

Having queued for what seemed like, well not an eternity, but a long time given how few people were at the counter, I placed our order: quiche Lorrain and salad; mixed berry tart; soy long mach and a weak hot chocolate – soy of course. I handed over a freshly minted $100 note and was short-changed $20 by the so-called Director of First Impressions. Hmm - two points lost and we weren’t even seated.

The fruit tart came immediately and Bec reported it was very good – four points.  What about the rest?

The wait for the quiche was long and Bec had finished the tart by then. Two points lost. It was also slightly burned on the top. A further two points lost. But the waitress offered to replace it, which I declined: I was hungry and there was no way that quiche was going back to the kitchen. One point? Possibly, but as Bec pointed out – they shouldn’t have brought it out in the first place. No points.

The quiche was superb – possibly the best I have tasted: rich and smooth but not overtly eggy, not too salty but good flavour, enough bacon that was just the right size but not too much; beautiful pastry that was crisp but not overcooked, yet not hard. It was served with some small greens and lovely marinated black olives – slight but tasty. This chef knows how to cook quiche. Four points.

Still no sign of the coffees, however, and we had finished our food. The waitress apologized. Minus two points. When they arrived the long mach was top drawer, I ordered a little extra soy milk, which was gently warmed and in a miniature jug. Bec reported the hot chocolate was pretty good. Five and three points, respectively.

The wait staff were polite and helpful but there had been enough inadequacies for me not to feel particularly well-disposed towards them: two points only.

So, all-in-all, a mixed result. I can understand the irritation of fellow Coglione about the service and inadequate eggs but it’s worth a hill climb just for that damn fine specialty: the quiche. Don’t go when it’s busy; probably best to dine alone; use a credit card or coins; and make sure you don’t have a deadline to meet.

Inadequate Eggs

Last Saturday week saw two brave Coglioni brave the cool morning air for an ascent of the Waterwheel and Peet Rd for breakfast in Kalamunda. O’Dirty dragged his hungover ass to Paddles place at 6:15am having no recollection of actually going to bed. However this post is not one about the ride, which was excellent, but one I will save for spring time due to the shadiness of some of the route. No this post is about a matter far more serious.

Having ridden 80km, we were ready for a good feed, Paddles had been fantasizing about his brekky as he dragged himself up the 12% pinch of Peet Rd. So we stopped at Paris-Brest. For once there was no huge queue, but it was still very busy. We lined up and looked at the menu and were initially shocked at the prices. Scrambled eggs on toast for $13, big-brekky for $22. A lardy fry-up for over $20, maybe Paris-Brest had attained a Michelin star since we last had a sausage roll there.

So we ordered, Paddles going for the $14 scrambled eggs and I went for a $15 Croque-Madame (a French toasted ham and cheese sandwich with bechamel sauce, topped with a fried egg). Our average coffees arrived much quicker than normal but the usual long wait for food had to be endured. But surely at these prices it would be worth it.

I will never forget the look of disappointment on Paddles face when the poor excuse for a breakfast finally arrived. It was Nouvelle Cuisine breakfast. A tiny bit of sour dough bread with what must have been a single scrambled egg on top. It was lost in the plate. My croque was exactly that, a crock! Dry bread, hardly any bechamel and an overcooked crispy fried egg. I would be embarrassed to serve a breakfast like this in my house, let alone charge people the amount we were charged.

Suffice to say, Paris-Brest is now on the Coglioni boycott list. If we want a full breakfast in the hills we will need to find another establishment, or else retire to the Gooseberry Hill cafe for the best ham and cheese croissants in the world, at least there is no shortage of bechamel on them!

I have added a new category called “Food Review” for like minded posts. I heard rumors of inadequate chips recently as well…