Routes

There were periods of time -- sometimes months, sometimes years, sometimes only weeks -- over the past 15 to 20 years during which I went to the gym.

 I largely enjoyed it, but it never seemed to stick. Typically, what started as pretty developed workouts would end up reduced to simply half an hour on the elliptical, maybe some pointless situps, and that was it.

Chalk that failure up to many things, but I always suspected boredom played a major role in my vanishing act. Having music or television to watch always helped, but it all just became dreadfully repetitive after a while. With that in mind, I decided that riding a bike might go a long way toward addressing the boredom issue as I was putting together a sort of path out of this malaise about a year-and-a-half ago.

Turns out I was spot on. The scenery, the concentration required not to get killed or injured, and the ability to stop and snap a picture of something cool have allowed me to create a routine for doing something that's good for me and enjoyable. One of the biggest advantages over watching a half-hour of closed-captioned Food Network is that I am not captive to any particular route.

There are shorter routes I take and longer ones, but among those, I tend to keep returning to a few favorites. Living in a pretty centrally-located section of the city, I enjoy ready access to a lot of different routes on my bike. One of them is the Blackstone River Bikeway.

Completed several years ago, the bikeway runs about four or five miles. It starts in Worcester and ends in Millbury. There is  a grand plan to run it from Union Station all the way to Rhode Island, but that's eons away. For now, it's a nice little spot, that's super kid-friendly.

Scallops

It's hard to convey with words the excitement of the first couple weeks of the CSA. It's just my second year, but I hope to continue this great relationship with food for as long as I can afford it.

It's a challenge every week to figure out how to use the veggies in as many dishes as I can. One crop we get a lot of right off the bat is green onions. They are a double threat--the bulbs can be basically used like onions or shallots, and the stalks are great in salsas or as a garnish.

So the other day I was at a playground with my little one, and the playground just happens to be near one of two fish markets I frequent. I think shellfish has a reputation as being sort of an expensive luxury, but it's really not. I think the scallops Ihave drying out here ran me about 6 bucks, which is less than I would have spent on a take-out lunch that day.

I also had some cilantro from the CSA, so I figured a little light sear and a little sauce and I would be good to go.

Scallops are not hard at all to cook. The biggest sin is overcooking them. That probably goes for most meat--you only want to cook meat to the absolute minimum it takes for it to achieve doneness. That might be hours for a big pork butt, or just a minute or two per side for a tuna steak. Cook food until it is done. That's easy enough, right?

Here's how I cook scallops. After they dry out (and after I further trim off the little connective muscle remnants) I roll them with a little kosher salt and cracked black pepper. I get a small iron skillet really hot (medium-high, or between teh 5 and 6 on the oven dial), and add a little butter and olive oil. The scallops go right in, and catch a good sear right away. About two-three minutes. If they're huge, maybe a little longer. If they're smaller, then less time.

Flip them over, another minute or two, and they are done.

CSA

My CSA shares return tomorrow. It can't come a moment too soon; I have looked forward to my weekly organic veggie bushel's delivery since the last day of last year's program. I split a large share at Many Hands Organic Farm in Barre with a friend last year; this year, I went with my own medium share, which I think will give me the same amount of vegetables.

For those who don't know, Community Supported Agriculture  works like this: you pay ahead of time over the winter for a "share" of the farm's vegetables. Every week, they drop them off. Every week, you wonder how you will ever be able to buy grocery store vegetables ever again.

I started cooking competently soon after I got married, just about 12 years ago. I had always had an idea of what cooking entailed; I spent most afternoons of my childhood loitering in the kitchen; I think enough culinary vernacular sunk in by osmosis, enough to buoy my confidence that I could handle myself with at least a minimum amount of skill.

Starting out, cooking involved basically asking my mother how she cooked certain dishes. I had the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook to help me fill in some other gaps and try a few new dishes here and there. A subscription to Bon Apetit sort of showed me what's out there. Food television proved seductive; I still use some recipes from Ina or Giada or whoever, but I think you just evolve at some point.

That point for me came last year with the arrival of my CSA. There was something very educational about not really knowing what mix of vegetables would be arriving every week. Making do with what was dropped off every Monday at the Living Earth was, to call back to food television, sort of my own personal episdode of "Chopped."

"Next up, we have beets, collard greens, and garlic scapes. Go!"

The true development of skill came from two sources. That unpredictable assignment of what was picked that week up in Barre put a premium not so much on what recipe to use, but how to cook each particular vegetable. Does this one get steamed? Is this one better raw? How long do I roast this root vegetable?

On a more cultural, or even spiritual level, getting the CSA every week helped develop more respect for ingredients. The food is so good, so fresh, that it seems almost inappropriate to prepare it one bit more than it needs to be. It's not about slathering food with cheese, or hot sauce, or salt. What should a properly cooked beet taste like? What is the absolute minimum this zucchini should be boiled? Do I need to go with a full-on tomato sauce, or can I just saute this tomato with some garlic and herbs, and I'll be all set?

The dish pictured to begin this post is grilled salmon with a Thai cucumber-basil sauce I cribbed from one of my favorite websites, Serious Eats.

Cookson

Cookson Park is one of my favorite places. It's a dinky little spot long ago relegated to the bottom tier of the Worcester city parks hierarchy. It's named after Walter Cookson, a longtime school board member and Republican mayor who died while attending the 1936 Republican National Convention in Cleveland. The hilly 18-acre spot once afforded spectacular views of the city from atop Mount St. James. It's all overgrown now, save for some decently maintained trails. Still, there's something to be said for an unassuming, scruffy spot. You're usually the only one in there, which is nice. It's quiet and pleasant and just a bunch of trees and brush. What else do you really need?
The park serves as a jumping off point to some nice bike-riding roads. I received clearance to depart after dropping the kids off at school on a recent morning, and took off. I just ride through the main trail that runs the length of the park. It's actually a road, and I'm told it once carried trolleys through the neighborhood.

It was a beautiful, warm, morning, and it was a nice, refreshing ride. Riding in the winter -- all the gear, the numb extremities, the windchill -- seems like a lifetime ago. Since installing the drop bars on the Pug, I feel like my speed has really picked up, which probably has less to do with aerodynamics than a more thigh and butt-friendly seating position. I have also been trying to get in the habit of riding on the big chainring most of the time (big chainring=harder to pedal, but more speed).

There's always a lot of second-guessing about any big purchase, and God knows what I would have went with if I knew back then what I know now about my riding style, bicycles in general, and the preferences I've developed. But by starting out with a heavy older bike with friction shifting and well-made but fussy mechanics, a new bike, when the time finally comes, will be a revelation. And by then, my fundamentals and my knowledge base will be such that I will truly choose the bike for me. I'm always thinking of what my next bike will be, but I enjoy every moment on the Pug.