One of the first years I rode the MS-150 City to Shore Bike Tour with my dad (which I'm riding for the eighth time this year) I remember seeing a bright sea-foam green bike at one of the rest stops, propped up against a tree, and I pointed it out to Dad. I thought it was so pretty and unique. My hybrid mountain/road bike was a patriotic blue color and most other bikes I saw were white, red, blue, or maybe yellow. This one stood apart. Dad told me it wasn't just the color that made that sea-foam green bike special; it was a very expensive and especially good bicycle. It was a Bianchi. They make Biachis in other colors, but this sea-foam shade is the classic Biachi hue and is most recognizable. It is known as Celeste.
For quite a few more years, I happily rode my hybrid Raleigh and was content. But this summer, I have been given the chance to purchase a Celeste Bianchi from my sister-in-law for an incredibly affordable price. I borrowed the bike last week to give it a try. They say "It's like riding a bike" to refer to something natural and completely easy. When I straddled Celeste for the first time and put my hands to the curled handlebars... I felt I had never been on a bike before in my life. The shape my body assumed, the pressure points and aches that instantly became sensitive, even the way my leg muscles reacted to each stroke... it was a feeling unlike anything I've encountered on a bike. Still, I'd never felt more like a cyclist than when on that sea-foam Bianchi. I'm riding her again this weekend, and very excited to get a better feel for her and put a few miles under our belts together. I have a feeling Celeste and I are going to become good friends.
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Early this week, some Facebook news sank like a knife into my nostalgic heart. First, a bit of background: About three and a half years ago, I spent three months at Oxford University with a student exchange program. I lived in a delightful British house with 21 other American students and our British Junior Dean. The program, SCIO, owned the home and had been housing students there for years. This week I learned that SCIO has sold the house. As with the loss of a childhood home, a grandparent's backyard, or an elementary playground, the loss of this house has chopped out a piece of my heart. Although chances were quite slim I would ever venture back to 8 Crick Road, there was a certain peace in knowing it was always there. The crazy quilt still in the living room. The sink still in my bedroom downstairs. The tea kettle still in the kitchen and the freezer in the library. The washing machine spinning constantly with someone's clothes and the map of Cracker Barrel restaurants still tacked up in the powder room. I liked knowing that if the Road ever took me back to Oxford, 8 Crick would be waiting for me. Now, that hope is gone.
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Tuesday brought a culinary success with my attempt at Peppered Pork Sandwiches. Peter was a bit skeptical, and even asked why I don't stick with recipes I already know, but in the end he enjoyed it too. I have not had good success with pork in the past, and was hoping for a first success. I cut boneless pork chops into strips and then in half so the pieces were about an inch and a half long and less than half an inch thick. Then I peppered them - coarse pepper would have been better, but regular black worked fine - and tossed with olive oil, then sauteed them until cooked through. It took about 10 minutes, maybe, and the pork was deliciously tender. Then I threw in some chopped roasted red peppers from a jar and let the whole thing warm on the stove. In the meantime, I whipped up a quick sauce of mayonnaise, a little Parmesan dressing, a few splashes of milk, and one minced garlic clove, adding more mayo until it was thick enough to spread. I didn't buy pitas, but used some good bolillo rolls from the Giant bakery. We spread these with the sauce, then spooned on the pork and peppers, and enjoyed sandwiches that made me think of a carnival. They were perfect. I think I've just secured my go-to pork recipe.
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