First Training Ride and Steamed Buns

Imagine being in a parking lot the size of half a football field and instead of cars it is full of bikes. People on bikes, wearing all manner of crazy colors and spandex and clippy shoes and goofy helmets and tiny rear view mirrors attached to their helmets. I was one of those people and it was awesome. Now - here comes my favorite part of the entire ride: after an anonymous call, "Roll Out!", we all begin clipping our shoes into our pedals and our peloton left the parking lot en masse. The incessant and arrhythmic clipping made my heart smile. 

I have never been part of such a large group of cyclists, nor have I ridden as far as we did last Saturday. I was riding with the Seattle Randonneurs on the first Winter Training Series ride. The goal of this 8 week series is to ride a century - a 100 miles. Ambitious, but not insane. This first ride was 38 miles through exquisitely beautiful east of Seattle near the town of Redmond. I wish I had had that camera implanted in my eyeball so I could show you what it was like, but my insurance wouldn't cover it. Instead imagine the pungent smell of manure, a tall leafless tree full of cowbirds, a rutted dirt farm road, and fog enshrouding the distant hills. Another section of ride was on winding, hilly roads alongside moderate traffic, a light misting drizzle adding just enough water to the air to make it COLD. (I couldn't feel my feet after the first five minutes of the ride.) 

Despite the cold, 2.5 flat tires (on my bike alone), and dragging my shin down my pedal, I was enamored of the ride and plan to continue the series with gusto this coming Saturday on this ride. Nothing compares to unclipping at the end of the ride, clacking into the bike shop, filling a small Styrofoam cup with steaming water, dropping in a sachet of black Eary Grey tea, and chomping down on the best pastry I have ever tasted. Ever. Triangular, encrusted with large granules of sugar, and filled with a mix of apple pie filling and vanilla pudding. Unholy. Thank you Pacific Coast Bakery.

Since I failed at taking a single picture on the ride, I made a short picture montage demonstrating how I dress to ride in the winter cold and drizzle:

Switching gears, I also made a first attempt at homemade steamed buns. I found the recipe on use real butter, a well-photographed, well-written food blog. Robert and I ate these at least once a day while in Vietnam (a YEAR ago, time travels so quickly), so the bar for this recipe was set high. Ben's contribution to the effort was sweetened black sesame seed paste, which he made from a recipe on The Fresh Loaf, inspired after having them at Din Tai Fung in Bellevue, WA. Although my bun shaping and sealing skills need some work, I was wholly satisfied with the pillowy texture of the dough and the incredible flavor of the sweetened black sesame paste filling: black gold. 

Cooking Notes: I initially thought the dough was too dry and went a little overboard adding water; next time I will try to stick closer to the recipe and/or be more conservative with my additions. We made three fillings: curried peas and carrots, red bean paste (purchased from Uwijamiya), and sweetened black sesame seed paste. The black sesame seed paste was a little too runny, making it difficult to contain in the dough pocket - less oil next time. When forming the buns, gather as little dough as possible to seal them - I gathered and twisted too much dough together, accidentally forming a large ball of dough at the bottom of the bun, forcing the filling to spread into a thin layer just under the top skin of the bun. It didn't affect the flavor, but the aesthetic was slightly off.

Adding black gold (aka sweetened black sesame seed) paste to a nascent steamed bun.

Begin pinching the dough together to make a pocket for the filling.

Gather the dough together at the bottom. DO NOT make your dough look like mine. I have WAY too much extra dough at my pinch.

Here are a few of the buns waiting to be steamed. From noon to nine, red paprika = sweetened red bean filling, yellow turmeric = curried peas and carrots filling, black showing through thin dough = sweetened black sesame seed filling, swirl = empty.

Dinner Journal:

Tuesday: Lettuce + buckwheat soba noodle miso soup

Wednesday: Grilled eggplant and feta cheese

Thursday: Catered Indian food at Ben's MSTP event: palak paneer, rice, naan, mint and tamarind chutneys

Friday: Ethiopian Food at Assimba (veggie combo plate, gluten free injera)

Saturday: Homemade, gluten-free pho 
       
       (Broth: 1 onion (quartered), 1 thumb of ginger (halved and smashed with knife butt), 2 cinnamon sticks, 3 star anise, 3/4 a Johannes Brau Dunkelwisen (beer), water to fill most of stock pot,3/4 T Chinese 5 spice powder, small dose of sugar, tamari and salt to taste (needs a fair bit since I started from beer and water instead of pre-made broth); inspiration drawn from: Gastronomy and Running With Tweezers.

Sunday: Fresh coconut, steamed buns, tomato + feta salad, steamed whole artichoke

Monday: Steamed whole artichoke, grilled eggplant, part of Ben's zombie omelet: veggie chorizo, cilantro, Thai basil, jalapenos, sauteed onions, rice cakes, 4 eggs and matchsticks of Parmesan.   

Bonus Feature: How to Harvest Coconut Water and Meat from a Mature Coconut

I bought a couple of coconuts to play with. This type of mature coconut has three "eyes" on one end. One of these "eyes" is softer than the others and can easily be gouged out with a screw driver.

Gouge and then drain the coconut water out. Can you tell which coconut I let mold? (Note to self: remove coconuts from plastic bag and store in the fridge.)

To harvest the meat, you need to first crack the dang thing open. I accomplished this by banging the 'nut a few times on the cement stairs in front of my house.

It is so dreamily white on the inside!

   

I can't offer a good explanation of how to get the meat out of the shell -- it was hard work. I also don't want to reveal that I used a kitchen knife (prized and revered for their magical powers in my household and not to be abused) to pry out the meat. The interweb can show you some tools that are made just for this purpose, perhaps you can try heating it in the oven, or perhaps you are a better pryer than I. All I can say is: good luck! If you have a juicer or food processor, you can grate the coconut. If you are kitchen-machine-poor, like I, you can munch on the shards of raw coconut until they turn into crumbly wood chips in your mouth! YUM. (I highly suggest further processing, but I refuse to let my hard earned coconut meat go to waste.)