2014 Oceanside 70.3 Race Report

Triathletes are often caricatured as vain, neurotic, middle-aged control freaks who show consideration to the uninitiated by displaying finisher medals on the inside of their cubicles.  In the year and half since I started training for triathlons, I've resigned myself to the fact that I am that person now.  It's just easier at this point to explain why I'm that way than to deny it.  For example, neurosis is a natural consequence of spending the dark winter months pumping away on my indoor bike trainer watching vapid episodes of Survivor on Amazon Prime, in hopes of shaving a few minutes off of my bike split.  Then, in the days before the race, I become irritable as I obsess about whether said improvement will actually materialize. 

So it was that I got up at 4:45am, pumped up my tires, grabbed my a bag laden with everything I'd need for the next 7 hours, and headed off to T2 (the place where I'd stash my running shoes so I could change after the bike).  The lonely ride over to this spot indicated that most competitors weren't staying south of the Oceanside pier area (that's where my family and I were staying) but soon enough the flood lights over T2 revealed hundreds of racers teeming around with nervous energy.  I dropped my run shoes, sunglasses, and a belt with water bottles in a pile under my number on the rack before heading off to T1 (where I would stash my bike for the beginning of that leg).  Once there, I racked my bike, pulled on my wetsuit, and waited for my swim wave to begin. 

As we waddled down the chute towards the swim start, I found myself afflicted with an acute case of "haole feet", grimacing as I pranced around on the sharp rocks of the pavement.  The more enlightened competitors had brought with them disposable flip flops that lay discarded in a large pile atop the sloping ramp into the water.  As we swam out to the start line, I was pleasantly surprised by how warm the water was.  Living in eastern Washington state, I had completed exactly zero open water swim sessions before this race.  In order to calm my anxiousness, I had gone out to flounder around a little in the surf of Buccaneer Beach the day before.  The water in Oceanside Harbor was 3-4 degrees warmer than that had been, and felt great to me. 

I moved up to the front of the group, and the horn sounded.  The start was calm and orderly.  The swim is the strongest discipline for me, and I enjoyed it a lot.  After endless laps under florescent lights, a long swim in the morning sun felt like a rare privilege.  There was some jostling as the faster swimmers in my group and I overtook wave after wave of swimmers in front of us.  I found some nice booties to follow, and tapped them a few times (easy to spot - they had a swirling orange pattern).  If the owner of the booties reads this and is incensed, I apologize.  I just kept my effort steady and smooth, but eventually struck out on my own about half way back to the swim exit.  Sooner than I expected, it was over.  As I jumped up on the ramp, a helpful volunteer ripped open my neck strap, pulled down the back zipper, and pried one shoulder of the suit off.  I felt good enough to run to my bike.

Swim split: 31:59

I pulled off the suit, bagged it, donned helmet and race number belt, and ran off to the mounting area with my bike.  This is the first triathlon I've done with a power meter.  It's a different state of mind, and vastly simplified the bike leg for me.  I just aimed for 210W on the flats, and 260W on the large hills.  Although I'm not a strong cyclist, I enjoyed the bike part of the race the most.  The course, aside from a few sections that run behind Camp Pendleton strip malls, featured stunning scenery.  Similar to the swim, I've only done a couple of outdoor rides in months, so to be in 62 degree sunshine rolling around the hills of Camp Pendleton was amazing.  I settled into a rhythm, and found myself going a similar speed to 3 or 4 other riders.  I passed, and was passed, nearly constantly for the entire bike leg.  This was a minor annoyance - the fact is that a race with so many participants will be crowded.  I had to exercise a lot of caution not to violate drafting rules, something that wasn't so hard in the much smaller Boise HIM. 

A far greater annoyance occurred as I wound my way through the parking lots heading north along the coast.  I glanced over at a passing cyclist, a fateful decision that I immediately regretted.  An ambitious chap wearing bib number 2612 (even now, it is easy to recall) was bent low over his aero bars and pushing the pace.  He sported a threadbare tri-suit that left nothing to the imagination.  Although I'm told that using a freshly washed kit is considered common courtesy amongst cyclists, his suit's useful life expired 50 or so laundry loads ago.  A bit of research shows that his bike split was a blistering 2:29, meaning that hundreds, and maybe even thousands of competitors will bear the mental scars of his criminal negligence. 

The 3 large hills proved challenging, but manageable.  For me, the aid stations were more problematic, as only one of them was on an uphill (that I remember). I was surprised by the other two, and got only 1/2 a bottle of sports drink between them.  I had some gel packs in a water bottle on my bike, though, so plan B came in handy.  The seemingly endless string of cyclist thinned out the last 10 miles of the bike, and I didn't really detect an anticipated head-wind.  I pulled into the strand, and saw runners huffing and puffing their way along the beach.  One last uphill, and I rolled into T2.


Bike Split: 2:49:25, 19.8mph, Ave. Power 192W, Weighted Ave Power 204W

In retrospect, my fondest hope was that keeping my bike effort within reason would lay the foundation for a strong run.  These hopes were in vain.  I transitioned reasonably fast, and ran out on to the course.  My first three miles were at 7:45 per the plan (except for a bathroom stop).  After that, I struggled mightily to run close to this pace.  I forced down 4 gels on the run, so I don't think it was a fuel issue.  Mile 5 turned out to be my last sub-8min mile.  As usual, the loop run supplied that moment of exquisite sadness where I had to turn right for another loop while watching giddy competitors dash down the finish chute to glory.  I kept stomping on, encouraged by the cheerful residents of South Pacific St., one of whom asked "would a beer help you?".  As I hit the turn around and mile 11, the reality that my self-inflicted suffering would end slowly dawned.   I bit down and pushed as hard as I could.  Even so, mile 12 came and went, and the fact that the race was almost over seemed the only thought that could counteract a powerful urge to stop running.  Down on the strand, and with the finish line in sight, I tried to keep a steady cadence through the finish line.  I ran through the large inflatable gate, and the race was over.


Run Split: 1:49:57, 8:23/mi.

After : Regaining feeling in extremities

Even having done one HIM before this one, I was shocked at how spent I was after the race.  I had to lie down for a few minutes after collecting my finisher medal and pint of chocolate milk, as I felt unsteady.  My wife and kids were there to greet me at the finish line, and my daughter referred to my post race state as "freaked-out race finish dead mode".  In the hours after the race, I felt a strange mix of relief that the race had gone well, and genuine misgivings about ever doing one again.  This also happened last year after my first HIM.  With the benefit of a few days, I'm happy with how the race turned out, and also looking forward to my next one. 

Boise 70.3 2013 Race Report

Having spent 245 hours training for a roughly 6 hour event, it was with some anticipation that I set off with my wife for Boise's 70.3 half ironman event.  I decided to take the day off work on Friday (June 7) so we drove a little over half way on Thursday evening, before rolling into Boise about noon on Friday.  In fact. there is no way to actually race for me without taking Friday off since all athletes must register by 6pm Friday night.

The first thing we did was drive up to Luck Peak Reservoir to look around, as well as drive the bike route.  That was uneventful, but I knew that the wind would be a major factor the next day.  It was at 15 mph WNW, which is the overall direction of the point to point bike leg.  This means about 40% would be headwind, maybe 20% tailwind, with the rest some kind of crosswind.  

After checking in to the hotel, we walked downtown to check in.  Turns out that the mandatory athlete briefing isn't mandatory.  We skipped the vendor stalls and merchandise extravaganza, and went back to Lucky Peak to check my bike in.  We would have planned a little better, but we didn't know you couldn't take your bike on the shuttles the next morning until we read the registration docs more closely.    After that, we took in a movie, had dinner, and (after I had organized my transition bags) went to sleep.  

Race Morning

Waiting for shuttles to the swim start 

We woke up at a leisurely 8am. In an unhurried way, we got everything ready and then my wife ran me over the bridge to T2 to drop off my run bag. We then drove back to the hotel, and walked back over to wait for the shuttles in front of T2.

Seeing no reason to rush up to Lucky Peak, we lounged in the shade while kind of waiting in line for the shuttles.  In the end, a shortage of shuttle runs got us to Lucky Peak only 15 minutes before T1 was supposed to close.  This didn't concern me too much, but my friend from Pullman who was also racing was none too pleased.  I got things set up on my bike, grabbed my "morning clothes bag" and walked over to the throngs on the shore.
 I yanked my wetsuit on, and dropped my morning clothes bag into the appropriate bin.  By this time, the pros had already gone off, and everyone was waiting around for their heat to start.

Setting up T1

Most people were nervously chatting to pass the time, while keeping an eye on the pack of pros as they inched toward the first turn buoy in the distance.  Race volunteers with large placards queued up in front of the start gate in order of the start waves.  Each placard had the cap for that wave taped on it, as well as the wave number (mine was "8", fluorescent green).  Sooner than I thought, a pack of green-capped lemmings was meandering down to the water behind our placard.  I fell into formation, popping earplugs in and dutifully donning the green cap.  The water felt predictably cold (temp reported at 58f) but after the initial shock, I wouldn't think about the temperature again during the entire swim.  As we fluttered out to the start buoy, the race announcer called 30 seconds.  My 35-39 year old A-J compatriots began tossing about wishes for a good race, and the horn sounded.

The Swim

My swim wave starts as some pros (in red caps) finish

Prior to my first open water swim effort, I had imagined the swim would be something others dreaded, and I loved.  After trying it a couple of times in training, I realized there is something unexpected that happens when you fold yourself into a neoprene suit, jump into a cold puddle, and swim for a half an hour.  I'd describe my experience as a nagging claustrophobic anxiety that just tells me it'd be better to stop swimming.  Nothing major, but unpleasant.  I'd also heard horror stories about the swim start, most of which can be summed up by this youtube video.

For whatever reason, I had absolutely no issues with the "washing machine". I started toward the front of the group, put my head down, and swam.  Perhaps because of the adrenaline, I didn't feel much anxiety either, which was great.  About 5 minutes into the swim, I pulled up for a minute to observe, and saw only 3 green caps, and a few from a previous wave we were overtaking.  Sticking with these three fellows, I rounded the first buoy.  Thereafter, the swell picked up considerably, and I found myself breathing on the left a lot. I sucked down a few unwelcome gulps of lake water while fighting the chop, but it really wasn't too bad.  I drafted perhaps 20% of the time off a guy from my wave, and that felt good.  Rather than anxiety, while about 700 yards out from shore, I felt the surreal other-world-ness of the inky water and the brown sage brush shoreline wash over me.  I thought to myself, "truly, doing this race is one of the strangest behaviors recorded in human history.  What the hell am I doing here?  What is the sequence of events that has transpired that landed me in this lake in the middle of Idaho?".

After negotiating the 2nd turn buoy, I headed home, drafting a little more, and thinking about getting out of the water.  Upon pulling up to the ramp, I tried to stand, whiffed (the water was too deep) and had to flail around to get closer before stumbling out.  I was a little gassed, but not too bad.  I knew a few others from my wave had come in ahead of me, but not many (it turned out to be 5).  I'd find out later my split was 35:15.

While walking up the ramp to my bike, I spotted my wife.  Knowing that she would snap an obligatory photo, I gamely broke into a trot, and smiled.

I made use of the excellent wetsuit strippers, and headed off to find my bike.

The Bike

Transition went fine, although it was a little slow as I tried to spray sunscreen on myself.  Soon enough, I was clopping out to the "bike mount" area, not being cool enough to execute the flying squirrel bike mounting technique.  Once on the bike, I settled into a rhythm, and began to eat and drink at regular intervals.

My fueling strategy was pretty simple.  I squeezed 10 gel packs into a water bottle the night before, diluted it with a little water, and carried it on an x-lab wing behind my saddle.  I had a throw-away water bottle in the other cage, and 3 stinger waffles in a pocket on the back of my tri suit.  I also had some salt tablets that I took as a precaution as the temperatures were in the high 80's.

The heat combined with the headwind made for a challenging bike ride.  For me, the struggle was to keep my effort low enough that my heart rate would stay in the right range.  That entailed just accepting that I wasn't going as fast as I did in training.  It's a little hard to explain, but that's frustrating.  That said, the bike ride itself was my favorite part of the race, especially the turn-around leg that wound its way through fields and small rollers.

Still, it was clear to me that I have a lot of improving to do on the bike.  I was routinely passed by athletes like I was standing still, to the point that it seemed mind-boggling that they could generate such wattage.  I often heard the hollow rumble of a disk wheel in my left ear as the uber-bikers came up behind me and sprinted past.  Even after the turn-around, I was surprised at how many speedy cyclists kept coming - I can only assume those guys swam elementary backstroke.

Although I wasn't fast on the hills, they weren't particularly difficult - I just kept my heart rate around 160 and did them.  I don't think the course was particularly hilly, but some people did. When we turned off the highway, and back toward the downtown, I was feeling tired but still ok.

Throughout the bike, I had just watched my heart rate and cadence, not total time.  I didn't want to concern myself with it, but with a few miles left, I glanced at it - 2:52.  That was a let down.  Nothing to do but keep pedaling, though, and I coasted down the last hill and into T2.  Later I'd find my bike time was 2:59.

The Run

Transition was again fine - uneventful and relatively fast.  I started running unsure about how much energy I would have.  My plan was to start at 8:15/mile for the first couple, and then try to put in more effort and get faster.  This wasn't in the cards.  I did start out ok, but soon was sucking wind and fighting with myself to keep running.  The aid stations helped, but the heat seemed to clamp down on me, and I was frequently parched between stations.  A nice lady from St. George talked with me for a mile or so on the first loop.  She mentioned having done a number of half-ironman distance races, and seemed to be doing well.  She was faster than me, and I wished her luck before dropping back.  I've heard some guy triathletes refer to the humiliation of getting "chicked" but I was pretty sure there'd be lots of women who were faster than me (I think there were 80 or so).  During the run, one red-headed lady who was about 4'6" cruised past me at roughly twice my pace.

Eventually I settled on walking through the aid stations, dumping water on my head, downing some sports drink, and dumping some ice down my tri suit. That last part wasn't without consequence, as some ice slipped through from my back to, shall we say, places that are not my back. I really didn't care, though.  I was just trying to put one foot in front of the other at that point.

I completed the first loop and went back out for the second.  I did latch on to some guy that seemed to be going the same pace as I wanted to.  That lasted for 3 or so miles.  The run course itself is really nice - much of it is shaded, and it winds along next to the river.  Still, it was a tough slog.  On the second lap especially, I had no legs.  I couldn't even get my HR into zone 4 - it stayed in the low 170's for most of the time, whereas I can almost always push it into the 180's at will.  Only after emerging from a tunnel and making a left hand turn onto the final straight away did I feel some happiness start to seep back in.  With the finish line in sight, I tried to speed up to little effect.  I finished with a run time of 2:02, and a total time of 5:44.

Sweaty and tired, I'm done

The Wrap Up

What are my take-aways from this race?  I guess there are more than a few.

1. It was fun and I'd like to do it again.  I wasn't sure right after I finished, but the next day I'd already decided I'd like to race another 70.3.  It's difficult to explain how it was fun - it just was.  
2. My cycling skills need major work.  I think I need to get maybe 50% more power than I have right now.  I need more training that focuses on building sustained power - I'm going to work on this for the next year.
3. In the swim, I need to be more disciplined about keeping my head down and swimming rather than pulling up to see what's going on.  If I used a regular system of strokes with sighting built in,  and practiced swimming for 15 minutes straight, that would help.  
4. I think I under-fueled, even though I thought that wasn't possible.  Looking back, I only took in about 1600 calories during the race.  I even realized this part way into the run, but was not even remotely interested in eating or drinking anything with calories.  It was a strange feeling.  
5. It's probably true that something always goes wrong.  In this case, the one condition I hadn't prepared for (heat) plus one that was just annoying (wind) combined to make me have a much slower time than I'd hoped for.  That made everybody slower too, but I think I could've felt stronger for the run if I hadn't battled the wind on the bike so much.
6. During the run, I might want to carry some water to use between aid stations if it's hot and dry.  It was surprising how many times I wished I had water when I didn't.  
7. Sunscreen - Application could've been more thorough, which left me with crescent-shaped burns on both shoulder blades.
8. Boise struck me as a great place to have the event.  I liked the city's suburban frontier vibe, even if the oversubscribed Broncos football franchise is a little annoying.  
9. I'd read this a lot going in, but all the rules about drafting, passing, blocking, etc. are really just for the pros.  I never got the impression that anyone was carefully looking for violators, and didn't ever see anyone serving a penalty.  I didn't see many people drafting, either, but it seemed common courtesy and etiquette were more relevant than rules when actually racing.

The Burnt Blade

70.3 in Retrospect

About 5 months ago, I registered for a half ironman distance triathlon. When I began, I couldn't actually spell "triathlon".  Now that I've finished that first race, I wanted to look back and reflect on the experience.  I'll go through the training and acquiring of triathlon paraphernalia in this post, and then report on the race in the 2nd post.

Why it Happened
I suppose the Economist magazine and the Almond Board had a hand in all this.  After going to the almond board national convention in Sacramento last December as an exhibitor, I sat stranded in a mostly deserted exhibit hall with 2 days of nothingness in front of me.  Although there was no way to know beforehand the conference would be a dud, it was.  Having recently decided that reading my way through the Economist's "Best Books of 2012" was a good way to become well-read, I chose the most attractive book on the list: Tyler Hamilton's "The Secret Race".  The book is a scathing indictment of the cycling establishment, as well as an engrossing tale of Hamilton's ascent to the highest echelon of the sport.  I decided I needed to get a bike and try it myself.  Having already fallen for swimming and running, I thought triathlon was the logical way to do this (I note here that true cyclists are loathe to be associated with triathletes).

What I Bought
Triathlon is first and foremost about money.  Many people will dispute this, but it's true.  The combination of a middle-aged demographic holding increased disposable income with a "slow twitch", equipment-laden sport that can be executed at high levels by middle-aged people is the reason triathlon exists.  On the advice of Josh, a triathlete friend of mine, I bought an aluminum road bike for $1500, and fitted it with clip-on aerobars.  A nice bike shop guy in Coeur d'Alene "fit" the bike for me, moving the seat forward and getting me in a more aerodynamic position.  I also bought pedals, shoes, a wetsuit, bike wheels, an indoor trainer, a new saddle, running shoes, a tri suit, sunglasses, an aero helmet, a swim watch, a 1 year membership on trainingpeaks.com, and a little device that functions as a power meter on my indoor trainer.  I'm mentioning only the items that cost over $100.  If all items were included, this list would go on indefinitely.  Luckily, I already had a Garmin 305 with heart rate strap.  I also bought "The Triathlete's Bible"- written by the pedantic Joe Friel.  This book helped me grasp many basics of triathlon, especially since it started as such a vast unknown.

How I Trained
I started by allocating the time I thought I could afford: 15 hours a week.  This time was split out by Joe's training plan into different workouts on different days, with the duration, intensity, and volume varying according to a "periodized" plan.  I knew cycling would be my biggest weakness, so I emphasized that in the training plan.  I started on December 30.  I hadn't gotten my bike yet, and bummed one off my brother to begin training in my downstairs.  I have a pool close by, and a treadmill, so winter training really boiled down to finding shows on Netflix to pass the hours.  Soon, disgusting puddles of sweat appeared on the workout room floor at regular intervals, and I enjoyed the challenge of the "base building" phase of the workout plan.

Complications with sticking to the schedule arose only a few times.  The first happened with a wicked business trip/personal trip/common cold trifecta in February.  Luckily, this only cost a few days of training.  The second happened in May when a stomach flu outbreak ravaged everyone in the family.  I was quite lucky in this cycle not to have any serious injuries or setbacks.  All that stuff went surprisingly well.

By April, I was putting more lengthy workouts in, and although I did a little interval training, almost everything I did focused on endurance.  My first "bricks" were trainer/treadmill affairs, but I liked the challenge of trying to run after biking at high intensity.

When May rolled around, I drove down to the Snake river to do combined swim/bike/runs of significant length.  I only did 2 of these, but found them surprisingly enjoyable, especially the 2nd one.  They also shifted my focus from the training to practical issues like how I wanted to refuel during the 70.3.  I was also getting faster, a welcome development.

Overall Observations

1. Triathlon isn't healthy - I feel faster after having trained for 5 months, but not healthier.  I'd read enough research before I started that I didn't have any illusions that working out for 500 hours in a year would make me healthier.  If anything it appears to have a small negative impact on health.
2. Although I dropped 2 belt loops over the course of training, my weight didn't change that much - maybe 5 lbs.  Since I was exercising 3 times as much as I had at any time in the past, this was curious. 
3. I was frustrated by the lack of specific workouts in the "Bible" and trainingpeaks.com.  I think this is meant to emphasize the importance of a coach (speaking of $), but I'd rather they just made it generic and deal with the possibility that a particular interval workout may not have been precisely what every person needs.  Instead they just say stuff like "Rolling hills, zone 1 and 2".
4. Recording HR and other data makes working out more interesting.  It's easy to go back and compare things.  Triathlon is particularly attractive to people who love measuring and analyzing.  
5. Fitting workouts into a life schedule requires discipline and opportunism.  This is just life.
6. Triathlon is a conspicuous, annoying sport.  I enjoy it. I'm doing it, but there's no denying that most age groupers are rich, and that there is little in this world as loud as a triathlete decked out in tri suit, calf compression, aero helmet, and $400 Rudy Project sunglasses, riding a $6000 TT bike with "ZIPP" printed in billboard-sized script on carbon wheels.  It's a little ridiculous.  Never mind that the triathlete's uniform leaves little to the imagination.  If all triathletes were swimsuit models, this would be counted as one of the sport's strengths (see "olympic beach volleyball").  Alas, elite triathletes look emaciated rather than healthy.  The majority of age groupers are men who have difficulty hiding their shame underneath a race bib, and most are either in the "super-fast emaciated" group or the "rather slow, shouldn't step out in lycra" group.  
7. It's easy to get sucked in to triathlon web sites, gear, race reports, and the fabulously detailed reviews of dcrainmaker.com.  However, no non-triathlete really wants to talk about the sport of triathlon.  It's much better to find another triathlete than to burden your loved ones with the minutiae of a sport whose most recognizable figure is ... nobody. 

We finally took our first ski vacation as a family this week. This was a long time in coming, since we had gotten all the gear last year at the ski swap, only to fizzle out and not even go once. All in all, we had a fantastic time. The kids seemed to genuinely like skiing, and by the end of our three days, they were going down the blue runs at a healthy pace. That made it fun for Mari and me too. All the Mumfords were at the hill, too, which made it even more fun. Kai and Jerome both had moments when they thought they could go no more, but usually a hit of chocolate or a thaw-out in the lodge remedied the problem. Quinn was at day-care all 3 days. He didn't think that was cool at first, but warmed to the process over time. Here are some video clips:

OK, so this is the part where we finally get to the Wackers, who came over for dinner last night, and were guinea pigs on not one but 2 dishes: chicken with dumplings, and apple upside down cake.  Chicken with dumplings was fun - brown chicken, brown veggies, dump everything back into a big pot and boil for 45 minutes.  Take chicken out and pull all the meat off the bones.  Throw meat back in to boiling pot and then drop dumpling dough on top.  In all, it worked well because the Wacker kids and parents helped pull the chicken off the bones.  In the end, I thought the taste was pretty darn good - chicken bones and thigh meat tend to have that effect.  I liked the dumplings too - plenty of bready-goodness on the inside. 5 out of 5 salt cellars.  One thing we learned - it doesn't have to be done in a dutch oven.  We have a heavy steel pot, in which made another batch, and it also worked well. 

The last dish was apple upside-down cake.  The middle of the cake was a little under-done, so I'll probably cook it for 5 ot 10 minutes longer next time.  I'll call it 4 out of 5 salt cellars - pretty tasty, but not as good as Alton's super apple pie.  

 

I have been cooking a little bit recently, and wanted to blog a little on it.  It may or may not be interesting - you'll just have to avert your eyes if this sort of thing is boring.  I took some pictures a long time ago on the first thing I'll post on - pulled-pork sandwiches.  This is probably one of my favorite dishes of all time because I love pork and I love north carolina bbq sauce - I don't know why  took me so long to discover both of them.  One of my problems with regular pulled pork sandwiches, is that the regular bbq sauce overwhelms the flavor and texture of the pork, turning the sandwich into a mushy, sticky, sloppy joe kind of thing.  Not so in north carolina, which uses a cider vinegar-based sauce with spectacular results.  This recipe is pretty straight forward - smoke a pork shoulder roast, or boston butt (which Alton points out isn't a butt at all) for about 4 hours, keeping coals and smoke going strong.  Most of the meat is falling apart at that point, but even the leaner portions taste good.  The smoke penetrates about a quarter inch into the meat and it is amazing.  Although this isn't an alton recipe (it comes out of Steven Raichlen's "how to grill") I have to give it 5 salt cellars out of 5.  If I were to cook it again (which I have since then) I really wouldn't do anything differently.  Putting the carolina cole slaw on top was a bit strong at first, but now I really like it.

More recently, I have started to take a magazine called cook's illustrated (an offshoot of Amerca's Test Kitchen).  Having secured the first 2 issues, I have started through a number of recipes, and am duly impressed.  They take a lot of time to explain what is going on, and their recipes have all been spot on so far.  The first one I tried was grilled flank steak w/provolone and proscuitto.  It turned out to be a crowd pleaser and tasty at the same time.  It's not every day you see meat lollipops on the grill - the kids liked how it looked and tasted a lot.  The prep was easier than it might seem.  After butterflying the flank steak and pounding it, I put the provolone and proscuitto on the sheet and rolled it up.  After binding it with grill-proof rubber bands and poking

 skewers every inch, I sliced up into lollipops - voila!  Easy-peasy.  Grilling was also easy, although the skewers were incinerated.  Taste-wise, this dish scored very well.  Flank steak is flavorful but not too tough, and plays well with the cheese and pork tastes in the dish.  I would score it a 4 out of 5 salt cellars - the cheese makes things a little greasy for me, but overall, very good.  A couple of things I would do differently are: 1 - tenderize the meat with one of those retracting 80 blade meat tenderizers before pounding, and 2 - soak skewers for a couple of hours so they don't burn.  

Another recipe from the cooking mag was spanish tortillas.  Stu will be very happy to see this one since he has an aversion to anything that is assumed to be spanish that is actually from mexico.  Look, Stu, this one really is from spain.  It really just an omelet that is heavy on olive oil and potatoes.  It was very easy to make - just cook potatoes & onions in some olive oil until tender, then add eggs and other ingredients.  

Cook, flip and cook, and you're done.  The flip part didn't work so well for me, but we have solved that by getting a different pan.  Overall, this might work better as a breakfast, but I liked it for dinner too.  Marie made some garlic mayo to go on top, and the whole thing was delectable.  5 out of 5 salt cellars.  It is so straightforward that I wouldn't do anything different next time

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Ok - I admit this isn't as good as the Ohki reunion video from last year, but it's the best I can do on short notice. Watching this makes us pine for Hawaii, and remember how much fun it is to spend time with the Ohkis and Gma Ohki in the Aloha State.



I also realize this is my first blog post in 5 months. Needless to say, my idea of turning my blog into a cooking thingy has been unsuccessful. I still cook - I'm just not religious about getting the pics and story onto the blog. Maybe next week.

This week, I'll catch up with a couple of recipes that I have done recently.  One is from the book, and one is from the online Good Eats archive.  The first is blackened tuna.  I was interested to see the difference between cooking the tuna steak on top of a chimney starter (as recommended in the Good Eats episode on tuna).  The other major difference is that instead of sesame seeds and a wasabi-soy sauce glaze, the book version of tuna calls for a spicy rub.  This is where the "blackened" part comes in, since the rub turns black when seared.  This recipe is so straight forward that I'm just going to put the pics on and say a few words.  

This is the Tuna pre-sear.  The rub is all over the place.  It is mostly paprika, but includes enough cayenne pepper to make the kids say "too spicy".  They ended up just scraping the rub off, and liked the nice tuna that was left.

Right after going in, the tuna has begun to smoke.  

This is a view of the side of the tuna steak right after flipping.  You can see that the first side has a fair amount of cooked tuna that has penetrated the profile, while the pan-side is just starting.  You can also see some of the black that makes this "blackened tuna".  

The finished product, sliced and ready to serve.  We all liked the amount that the tuna had been cooked (inside was just warm).  Overall, this was a three salt cellars out of five recipe, though, because the level of spice was just a little too high.  Also, since we've had the sesame type before, we know that this dish can be 5 out of 5.  The thing I liked about the cast iron pan was that it cooked everything evenly, which is a challenge on a grill.  I think I'll try the sesame seed preparation on a cast iron pan next time - should work nicely.  

This is the other recipe we've done recently - spicy beef kebabs.  These were very easy to prepare, and cooked up very nicely.  They are also a great way to use a cheaper cut of beef (sirloin).  They had great smoky, spicy taste, and the kids loved them too, especially since they were served over a bed of cous-cous.  These really are a 5 out of 5, partially because it's not often that a so-so cut of meat tastes really good.  

The other thing that happened this week is that we bought a new bathroom scale.  Besides the fact that it measures our weight out to tenths of a lb., it also shows that we weigh 10 lbs more than the scale we used to own.  Needless to say, I'm going to drop some weight.  I hereby resolve to become Colin-sized within the next two months.  

The idea of going through Alton's cook book in order seemed like a good idea at the time. More or less, it will still be in order, but today I just couldn't keep it up. It was Mari's birthday, and rack of lamb seemed a better choice than seared tuna, although we'll do that soon. Anyway, this recipe is "Liz and Dick Rack of Lamb". It's name comes from the on-again, off-again romance of Richard Burton and Liz Taylor, which apparently garnered enough attention from Alton that he applies it to any recipe that requires various levels of heat. The lamb is cooked over direct heat for about 10 minutes, and then another 8 minutes on the half of the grill that's not as hot (the spot below where the aluminum pan can be seen)

As you can see, the first (and only) problem I encountered was flare-ups from grease dripping off the lamb. This was remedied by a squirt bottle and then putting the lid on the grill. The meat surface did get a little black, but that didn't hurt the flavor at all.

After flipping over, the other side cooks for 5 minutes. I like a smoky flavor beyond what the charcoal itself provides, so I usually throw some wet hickory chips on a lonely corner of the coals.

After cooking the lamb for a while longer over that little round pan you can see above (indirect heat), internal temperature registered well over 138 degrees, so I pulled them off and let them rest for a while. The fuzzyness of the picture isn't due to a filter - it's just a large spot that was on the camera lens.

Overall I have to give this 4 salt cellars out of 5. The only thing I would do a little differently is perhaps pull them off a little sooner. The inside was still a little pink, but it was medium well, when medium or medium rare probably would've tasted a little better. Still, I loved the lamb flavor combined with the smoke. No special spices - just salt, pepper, and olive oil.