Biscuits at Egg in Williamsburg

There was much talk of biking this week.  We polled friends for ideas, many of which were rejected because food didn’t come into play.  Fort Tilden, for example?  We hear it’s beautiful, secluded and relatively easy to get to on bikes.  But barren from an edible perspective.  We considered making a very short trek out to Egg in Williamsburg for breakfast (mmm, biscuits!) or a longer journey out to Blue Hill for dinner (although we were a bit stuck as to the transition from grubby bikers to elegant diners… and then there was also the matter of getting back home after a shared bottle of wine).

So, we ended up doing what we do best:  We ate.  And ate some more.  And there was drinking involved as well.  I started out the week with lunch at Fatty Crab (green papaya salad, and fatty, spicy duck), then met up with Mollie for dinner and a couple glasses of wine at Gottino (she loved the anchovy and butter crostini, I was partial to a salad of tomatoes and farro).  On Tuesday, we started the night at Marea with a negroni (Mollie) and a glass of crisp, minerally white wine (pretty soon, I’m going to switch exclusively to red) before heading to Hill Country for a Tasting Table shindig and some very strong margaritas.  In our slightly intoxicated haze, we missed out on much of the meat on display (pork ribs, beef ribs, brisket–you name it), but we made up for it with an excellent BLT and fries from Trump room service and a leftover chocolate walnut cookie from the Levain Bakery.  On Wednesday, we breakfasted at DB  Bistro Moderne (eggs over easy with sausage and potatoes for me, granola and yogurt for Mollie), followed by tuna tartare and arctic char at Anthos, a late afternoon snack of a Magnolia cupcake.  We ended the week with a powwow session at A Voce, where we sat outside, ordered a bottle of wine, and munched on radicchio salad, ricotta cheese, and grilled broccoli before a nightcap and sea salt gelato at Dell’anima.

HellsToTheYes: http://digiblue.com/products/lego/ [WHAT? NO TO LEGO CAMERAS]

In my dreams: http://www.goprocamera.com/index.php?area=2&productid=7 [WE OBVIOUSLY NEED THIS OR ELSE WE WILL BE GETTING INTO SO MANY ACCIDENTS]

You need this, obvs: http://www.goprocamera.com/index.php?area=2&productid=14 [OOPS, THIS ONE]

POV mollie: http://www.goprocamera.com/index.php?area=2&productid=1 [OR THIS ONE]

For some reason this feels a little creepy: http://www.vio-pov.com/products/pov_1.php [YES, SCARY! TECHY!]
Maybe because you’ll need a universal mount: http://www.vio-pov.com/products/all_accessories.php

My typical Labor Day involves grilling and the outdoors. This year it was more of the same, except there were also cows, chickens, pigs, and tents — my friends and I took a little outer borough field trip for a campout at Queens Farm. We were promised beer can chicken from badass butcher Tom Mylan, peach pies by Sweet Deliverance, and free-flowing beer from Brooklyn Brewery. We got all that and more.

But first we had to get there.

Our friends got themselves a zip car and had an uneventful 20 minute trip to the farm. Rob and I secured our gear to our bike racks using lots of twine and my best sailing knots and set off at around 5pm. We sped up First Avenue, made our inaugural trip over the Queensborough bridge, and then picked up a surprisingly well-maintained bike lane east. Our route took us through residential neighborhoods with modest homes and gorgeous old trees, past peak-time U.S. Open shenanigans at Shea Citi Field, along Corona Park in Flushing Meadows, and then through a shaded – somewhat ominous – greenway that was one of the country’s first roads. We were slowed by some minor mishaps (I took another spill over my handlebars, more on that later, couple wrong turns) but rolled into the farm two-and-a-half hours later. We quickly pitched the tents (well, the boys did – I provided moral support and documented with my Flip) and were happily feasting on chicken and baked beans soon after.

The rest of the campout was a surreal collision of hipster culture, bucolic farm life, and the not-so-far-off city — the sounds of cows and pigs competed with the car noise from the nearby street; aging apartment buildings in the distance. There was a bumpy, riotous hayride around the property, a surreal hipster dance party (dominated by a Molly Ringwald doppelganger with some serious energy), and a roaring bonfire. We slept in tents in the farm’s apple orchard and were woken up by screeching roosters and bah-ing lambs. Tom Mylan and his crew were ready with butter-soaked biscuits and rich sausage gravy, which turns out to be the best way remedy for too little sleep and too much drinking. More pictures after the break.

Tent in garbage bag, secured with string: super classy

Up-close with the Unisphere, from the 1964 World's Fair

Apparently three people is too many people for fence-sitting. (We apologized and offered to fix it.)

S'mores. There may have been a harmonica floating around too.

Camping beneath the apple trees. (Note: Check ground before pitching tent. Apples are not good for the back)

This $79 all weather pant comes in colors like khaki, navy, and olive

One of the things I love about Mollie is that she’s unabashedly put “looking cute” near the top of our priority list.  Take this morning’s post-ride email for example:

“This morning I rode in Central Park with Rob which was actually kind of discouraging because he’s so much faster than me and I just wasn’t feeling great on the bike. Did about 22 mi.  OH wore my new smartwool stuff, which was super comfy but the top is RED which clashes with my PINK shoes. Tragic.”

As a form of procrastination for a piece on locals Vegas that I must must must absolutely write today, I’ve been paging through the Athleta catalog and may have found a solution for the biker short dilemma:  The dipper pant.  It’s semi-fitted, water resistant, with loads of pocks, and a draw string (as Mollie notes, room for expansion is always good).  I’m thinking we might be able to pull these on OVER our never-sexy biking shorts whenever we make pitstops.

While I may not be quite as fashionable as my riding partner, I have to confess that I’m not averse to looking good on the road.  In Vancouver, for example, I test drove some Lululemon gear:  The Cool Racerback survived the bike ride to the Grind and then the Grind itself (at which point, I switched it out for a clean, dry and totally geeky “I survived the Grind” souvenir t-shirt).  The Groove Pant fit over my padded bike shorts (and still managed to make my butt look pretty good) and was perfect for Sunday evening Yin yoga class.  And the Gratitude Wrap was ideal for post-yoga and a night out on the town.