The HelmetCam Gourmet: A Self-Critique

02.22.2011 | 12:05 pm

About a week ago, I had an awesome idea. I thought to myself, “Hey, people are always telling me how good my guacamole is, and asking me how I make it. I should do a blog post about how to make guacamole.”

Then, I had an additional idea: “Hey, I haven’t done a video with my helmetcam for a while. What if I wore my helmetcam and just narrated while I made guacamole?”

At the time, it seemed like a can’t-miss idea. Me! Wearing a helmet! While cooking! And being funny!

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, here’s what went wrong.

First of all, the way I think is probably much better suited for writing than for extemporaneous talking. When I write, I edit a lot on the fly — by the time I get to the end of most sentences, I’ve had an idea of how the beginning of the sentence might work better. A couple of tweaks later and I’ve got a perfectly usable sentence.

That doesn’t work quite so well when you’re talking off-the-cuff. Oh sure, when I get to the end of a sentence I’m saying, I still have the idea of how I might improve the beginning of that selfsame sentence, but it’s kinda too late to fix it, what with my having said it and all.

Next, guacamole — while almost certainly the most amazingly delicious use of what is almost certainly one of the three most perfect foods on the planet — is kinda gross-looking when filmed from above, without special lighting, by a guy who has no experience making food look good on film (or the electronic equivalent thereof).

Third, I forgot to use my radio announcer voice, and so what you hear is my actual, normal, nasal voice. I’m so sorry.

Fourth, yesterday was not a school day, and so I had to contend with my kids in a couple of different ways.

• I had told the twins I’d be filming in the kitchen and so I needed them to go to a friend’s house or go play outside or something. This backfired beautifully; they kept coming inside to tell me what they were doing, which friend’s house they were going to next, and so forth. If I ever do a director’s cut of this video (very, very likely), I’ll include (and commentate) the part of the video where I yell at the kids to please, please, please, stop coming in and yelling, and to just go outside for ten minutes and let me get through this.
• I had a vivid mental picture in my head of how ridiculous I looked — talking to myself about how to make guacamole, while wearing a mountain biking helmet — and how uncomfortable I’d be trying to explain myself to any of the three teenagers that might wander into the kitchen.

Fifth, I take guacamole very seriously indeed, and so had very few hilarious things to say. Instead, I listened to myself in horror as I found myself giving an earnest rundown of how to make guacamole.

Wherein I Force Myself to Continue

Halfway through making this video, I nearly stopped. I didn’t, though, because I considered two things:

1. If I don’t ever try new things just because I think I suck, I’ll never get good at anything new.
2. Thanks to the miracle of electronic media, I could always just delete the whole thing if I decided I just couldn’t bear to put it on the blog.

And so I watched the video, and then edited it. Thinking, the whole time, “Well, it’s not quite bad enough to abandon the project.”

[Note to self: A good way to tell that a project should be abandoned is if you have to repeatedly tell yourself that the project isn't quite bad enough to abandon.]

After about 45 minutes of editing work, I had a video. Here it is:

Why put it up, when — obviously — I’m not exactly a fan of how it turned out? A couple reasons:

1. It was an experiment. While it didn’t turn out great, there’s a chance that something I learned will be useful in another project I do. Or in a project someone else does. Who knows?
2. This blog was built on a foundation of self-humiliation. So this fits right in.
3. There’s a fair chance that someone will make and enjoy some guacamole after watching this video. In which case I will be partially responsible for an increase in the amount of happiness in the universe.

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Start Getting Ready for the 2011 100 Miles of Nowhere

02.17.2011 | 7:39 am

Hey, remember how I got LASIKs a few months ago? Well guess what? i AM NOW COMPLETELY BLIND.

Ok, that’s not true. But my left eye doesn’t see a lot better now than it did pre-surgery. So today I’m headed under the blade-o’-light again to see if this time things go better.

I’m headed over to Al’s House of BBQ and LASIK in twenty minutes. I’m very, very excited.

Sadly, though, this means I don’t have a ton of time to write right now, and I’m supposed to lay off the computerin’ tomorrow, too.

So I’m just going to quickly go through a (fairly short) laundry list of a few things I’d like you to consider, weigh in on, and otherwise hobnob about for the next couple of days.

Item The First: The 100 Miles of Nowhere

I’ve been getting a lot of questions about the Fourth Annual 100 Miles of Nowhere. Well, it’s definitely going to be on, and I’m tentatively planning on June 4 as the “race” day.

Related to that, I’m happy to say that Twin Six will be designing the T-Shirt (again). I wanted to get your thoughts around other aspects of the race.

• Call for Sponsors: Do you work for or know a company that would like to be a part of the most ridiculous event ever created? Considering that you’ll get lots of good coverage in my blog, you’ll be doing something good in the fight against cancer, and you’ll get your product out in front of hundreds of people, maybe you should want to sponsor the 100 Miles of Nowhere. If you’re interested, email me. Pronto.
• How important is the swag bag to you? Which is to say, if I said, “First 500 people to register get a swag bag, everyone else gets a t-shirt and a nameplate,” would you register even if you didn’t make the first 500 cutoff?
• What can we do to make this more of a community event? My original 100 Miles of Nowhere was just me, alone in a room. Since then, it’s become much more entertaining, with people winning it on cul-de-sacs, unicycles, and aircraft carriers, just to name a few extremely strange divisions. It’s become a fun thing to do with people you like (or hold a grudge against). So what can I do to make it a way for you to include more people, and raise more money?

I look forward to your ideas. This is gonna be fun.

Item The Second: I Want Some New Header Photos

I’ve been using the same photo in my blog header for so long now. And while the “Approved by UCI” logo gives it a touch of new hilarity, I’d really like to start rotating some new photos in.

So, do me a favor. Email me your bike-related photos you think might make a good blog header. Use the subject line “Header Photo.”

What can you win? Um, nothing. Sorry. You just get the satisfaction of having your photo be at the top of my blog for a while. And photo credit for sure. And — if you like — a link to your site.

Oh, and please don’t send me anything you don’t have the right to loan me (You of course retain ownership of the photo; you just need to have the rights to let me use it).

OK, I’m off to get lasified. I’ll be back Monday.

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I Have An Important Announcement to Make

02.16.2011 | 12:48 pm

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An Open Letter to ProBar: I Have An Awesome Idea for a New Product

02.15.2011 | 1:42 pm

Dear ProBar,

As you know, I’m a big fan of your energy bars. I eat Fruition bars all the time when I’m on the bike, and like the way a Pro Bar — especially the Cran-Lemon Twister — gives me a ton of energy when I want to stop for a moment and refuel.

I’ve noticed, both on your website and on the wrappers of the products themselves, that you create “delicious, convenient, healthy plant-based food products.”

And that’s the problem, folks.

While I enjoy a Nutty Banana Boom as much as (maybe more than) the next guy, sometimes I want something that tastes neither nutty nor banana-y. I want something that doesn’t taste like nuts, fruits, or grains at all.

I want something that tastes like a real meal. I want some sodium. I want something that has some protein, and I don’t mean that fake kind of protein you get by eating soy beans or nuts, or that chalky protein you find in most drinks and energy bars.

I want real protein. Caveman protein.

I think, ProBar, the time has come for meat-based energy bars. Or, as I like to call them, “Meat-ergy” bars.

Why Meat-ergy Bars?

When I think about all the people I know (and I know at least fifteen or twenty people), I can say with confidence that pretty much all of us are not vegetarians.

Except for a few. And I have a feeling that the few people I know who are vegetarians are doing so mostly to be obstinate, or because they haven’t recently had a really great burger grilled for them over charcoal.

My point is that most people like meat.

So why are all of our energy bars acting like we’re a bunch of wild-eyed, long-haired, soy milk-drinking, carrot-hugging vegans?

Actually, I use soy milk myself. But that’s because regular milk gives me gas, not because I’m opposed to it on principal. But I’m getting off track here.

So it stands to reason that most of us — 96% of us, according to the way I divided a ‘96 estimate of vegetarians in the US against the current population — would like our energy bars to taste more like food we eat by choice.

You know, like bacon.

Which brings us to my first proposed Meat-ergy bar, which I have asked my good friend Kenny to mock up for you:

Honestly, who wouldn’t want to eat that?

Just think, you’re riding along and you’ve been drinking sweet drinks and sucking down sweet energy gels, and chewing sweet gummy energy stuff. You stop for a moment to have a snack. What do you want: a sweet energy bar, or a bar that has the taste and texture of bacon?

That question, of course, was rhetorical, because the answer is perfectly obvious.

So, to sum up: taste, texture, protein, appeal to the palates of 96% of the population. These are the reasons it’s time for Meat-ergy bars.

Ideas for Meat-ergy Bar Flavors

Be honest, ProBar: do you think anyone has any idea what the “Superfood Slam” tastes like? Or the “Whole Berry Blast?” Or even “Old School PB&J” (hint: it tastes nothing like a real PB&J)? Heck, I’ve had them all and remember they all taste like nuts and dried fruit. Which is fine, if you’re a squirrel.

And that’s why, in addition to the benefits I’ve already listed, Meat-ergy bar flavors practically sell themselves. The flavors you create should be based simply on popular kinds of meat. For example:

BaconBar: This should taste like bacon, at least in the first iteration. Really, I can’t think of anything better. In fact, if you just cook and package bacon, I think most of us will be very happy. Of course, as you roll out new versions of the product, you might want to look into the BLT (perhaps include a packet of mayonnaise), bacon-wrapped steak, and bacon-and-eggs.

BurgerBar: Is there anything in the world better than a good burger? The answer is, “Yes, a burger with bacon,” but that’s not a problem, since I’d just take a bite of the BurgerBar, followed by a bite of the BaconBar. Please do me a favor and use Angus beef, prime or choice cuts only, with modest marbling. Lots of Worcestershire sauce. Grilled over charcoal. Thanks.   

SteakBar: I don’t want to get picky, but is it possible for your SteakBar to have options for how the consumer likes their bar cooked? (I’m a Medium guy myself.) I understand that this means you’ll have to contend with product fragmentation — not to mention the problem of how you keep a rare-cooked Meat-ergy SteakBar from getting all gross — but I’m sure your R&D guys will be able to work it out.

ChickenBar: Hey, not everyone likes red meat. And just think how easy it would be to make variations of the ChickenBar. Teriyaki, Barbecue, Cacciatore, you name it: just add the appropriate “marinade” packet before eating.

SalmonBar: Okay, I admit I just threw this idea in here as a joke. I can’t imagine myself opening a Meat-ergy bar mid-ride and being greeted with the scent of fish. But hey, that’s just me. Maybe.

See, ProBar? Those are just the ideas off the top of my head. As you build on the certain success of your first Meat-ergy bars, you can expand the line by going upscale (FiletmignonBar, PrimeribBar) and value-priced (CornedbeefBar, SpamBar). Regional dishes (JambalayaBar in New Orleans, SnailBar in France) are also smart areas of diversification.

I think you’ll agree, ProBar, the time for this innovative product has come. I look forward to being one of your first Meat-ergy Bar customers.

Kind Regards,

The Fat Cyclist

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Bike Stuff is a Gas

02.14.2011 | 12:55 pm

Today’s post is about luggage, and some very persuasive and scientific theories I have about luggage. Cycling road trip luggage, to be precise.

To set the stage for my theories, I offer to you the following photographs as evidence.

First, here is a photograph — taken yesterday — of the backseat area of my BikeMobile:

As you can clearly see, two road bikes fit in that area easily, without the necessity of removing any wheels.

Next, here is a photograph — also taken yesterday — of the bed of my truck:

And here is another, to give you a bird’s-eye view of the contents of that truck bed:

Looking at all that, please take a moment to answer the following questions:

1. How many people are on this trip?
2. How long is this trip?

I know that you’re waiting on tenterhooks for the answer, so I’ll get straight to it.

It was a two-day trip (to Saint George, UT) for two people: The Runner and me. Here’s. Here’s a picture of us somewhere on the Goulds / Jem / Hurricane Rim loop yesterday:

Don’t we look happy? Well, of course we look happy, because we are happy. How could we not be happy? After all, by driving for 3.5 short hours we got away from winter to a sunny, warm pavement and desert-singletrack paradise.

But still. All that luggage? For just two people? For just two days?

Which is what brings us to the heart of today’s post.

Bike Stuff Is A Gas

As anyone who has ever farted in a room knows, gas expands to fill all available space. Which is why I have to believe that bike stuff is a gas. I mean, a few months ago, I went to the Ride for the Roses weekend in Austin, then directly from there to work for a week in Chicago, and I fit everything I needed into a single suitcase.

Because that was the amount of space that was available.

Last weekend, on the other hand, The Runner and I had The BikeMobile all to ourselves and — sure enough — our stuff exactly filled the truck.

Hence: bike stuff is a gas.

A Closer Look

Let’s look a little deeper into what what, exactly, filled the truck. This time, however, we’ll number the various items, for easy identification.

Item 1: The Backpack. This contains food items, such as PRO Bars and Fruition bars, and Honey Stinger fruit chews. And Salted Nut Rolls. And Dried Mangoes. And cashews. It’s also got a number of non-bike-specific food items, such as Chex Party Mix. And chips. And Oreos. Gee, I wonder why I’m not losing weight very fast this Winter?

Item 2: The Large Black Samsonite. This suitcase contains all of The Runner’s clothes for the trip, both for cycling and for non-cycling. I’m a little bit embarrassed to admit that The Runner is a more efficient packer than I am.

Item 3: The Small Yellow Tote Bag. This bag contains The Runner’s non-clothes-related items for the weekend. And now suddenly I’m not feeling so bad about the fact that all her clothes fit into a single bag.

Item 4: The Large Grey Tote Bag. This bag contains all my biking clothes for the weekend, and is almost certainly the most perfect example of my theory. Since I knew I had plenty of room, I filled this bag with a pair of bib tights, knee warmers, arm warmers, three pair of bib shorts, three long-sleeved jerseys, three short-sleeved jerseys, a wool base layer jersey, three pair of lightweight wool cycling socks, two pair heavy wool socks, shoe covers, one pair lightweight cycling gloves, one pair middleweight cycling gloves, and one pair cold-weather cycling gloves. And three different beanies, of varying weights and colors.

The thing is, when all was said and done, what I actually wore, cycling-wise, was two different pair of bibshorts (one each for the two rides we did), one long-sleeved jersey (I wore the same jersey for both rides, because I love my new Fat Cyclist Long Sleeve jersey so much), two pair of socks, and one pair of gloves. In other words, the cycling clothes I actually used could have fit in the side pocket of The Runner’s suitcase.

Item 5: The Purple-and-Brown Tote Bag of Hideousness: I have owned two very ugly nylon tote bags for about 17 years. I’d get rid of them but they are pretty much bombproof, and incredibly practical. For this trip, the purple-and-brown bag contained four pair of cycling shoes (two each for The Runner and me) and two helmets. The side pocket contained spare tubes (both road and mountain), lube, CO2 cartridges, a triangle hex wrench, and an oil rag.

Item 6: Ice Chest. I make no apologies for this item. There’s nothing better than a cold drink after a ride.

Item 7: The Purple-and-Teal Tote Bag of Hideousness: This bag contained all my non-cycling clothes. This, embarrassingly, contains enough clothing to last me a full two weeks. I threw in multiple pairs of pants and about half the t-shirts I own. I could have done just fine by bringing two t-shirts (and the second one would have been just in case I spilled salsa on the first). I mean, it’s a biking trip, after all. Not a fashion show.

Items 8 & 9: Gary Fisher Superfly, Superfly SS: Our bikes, plus of course the road bikes (Orbea Orcas for both of us) inside the truck. I don’t feel bad about bringing these, because we did in fact go on both a road ride and a mountain bike ride. But if we had less space, it would have been easy to just bring one bike per person.

Item 10: My foot. As I perched precariously on the top of the bed of the truck and taking photos of the contents therein, looking like a fool to anyone in the parking lot who might be curious as to what I was doing.

The Consolidation of Stuff

So, suppose we hadn’t had all that room? Well, Item 1 could have been eliminated altogether, by stuffing whatever food we wanted into our helmets for the trip. Item 2 — OK, Item 2 stays as-is, but Item 3 could maybe have been pared down?

Okay, maybe not. I don’t want to go there.

Items 4, 5, and 7, however, could easily have been combined into a single bag, as long as The Runner was willing to share her toothbrush. And doesn’t mind me smelling a little bit bad by day 2 of the trip.

I’ll have to ask her about that.

So sure, we could have easily fit everything we needed into a smaller space for the trip. But you know, there’s something luxurious about lazy packing — just throwing stuff in there, so you know you’re covered, no matter what the weather or your mood.

And besides, there’s no fighting physics.

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