A bird in hand is worth a whole lotta' Motzie.

Alex “Motzie” Motz helped teach me a bit about what it means to be a part of a universal motorcycle brotherhood.

As the month of March drew to a close, Motzie was riding his motorcycle near his home in Mississauga, Ontario (that’s near Toronto, Canada) and a driver took him down while he rode his BMW R1200 GSA.  Motzie passed away a month ago today on the morning of April 1^st, 2013, as a result of his injuries. We will all miss him.

My delay in writing about Motzie here is intentional, as I had myself had unfortunately learned of Motzie’s passing just the day before the Marathon bombings occurred here in Boston, and felt that he deserved some space of his own.

Motzie's R1200C.

I knew Motzie from a wonderful band of brothers called Chromeheads, a fun bunch of motorcycle enthusiasts that are passionate about BMW R1200C and R1200CLC motorcycles, which are the only cruiser bikes that BMW ever made. Manufactured from 1998-2004, they’re quite atypical of BMW bikes, as the majority is designed for touring or racing. The “C” rides like a touring bike, disguised as a cruiser, so you get the best of both worlds.

Alex "Motzie" Motz.

A lot of people have motorcycle clubs based on location and region, but we’re a tight virtual club that’s online without dues or central headquarters. Frankly, this love of the R1200C brings all of us Chromeheads together online, and also in person for rallies, tech-days, and rides wherever and whenever we can. Our online names or handles are our nicknames (Formerly Thoomp!, I’m now known as Food Biker; you can guess that Alex Motz was lovingly known as Motzie.) If it wasn’t for this wonderful group, who the heck knows if I’d even be doing Food Biker™ today. In this digital age, online virtual clubs have become a new phenomenon, and are just as valid as more traditional ones.

Some five years ago, on the Chromeheads website, I was first learning all about “C”s and was looking to purchase one. I first met Motzie when I phoned him up in Canada, as he had a R1200C bike for sale and I was considering purchasing it. A simple phone conversation turned into an hour-long bull session about all sorts of motorcycle advice and other fun stuff.

Don't mess with Motzie.

I subsequently learned of the growing legend of Motzie, as apparently he was a central part of the whole Chromehead scene. Through photos and accounts, Motzie was repeatedly the life of the Chromehead gatherings, to the point where a phrase had been coined “I’ve been Motzified.”

As someone who likes to throw down and party, you can imagine that at some point I simply had to meet this guy.

Fast forward a bit, and at some point I realized that I wanted my motorcycle mufflers to have a bit more “bark” to them, yet not so much that it would annoy neighbors or passerby.  Additionally, given that stock R1200Cs are a bit spartan, there was no clock or tachometer included on the bike and I had heard of an aftermarket chrome housing where I could do a bit of DIY installation with similar BMW parts, and make it look like it was stock.

Motzie at the Grill. (Check out the T-shirts.)

That’s when I phoned Motzie up in Canada, as he had the last Z-Tech™ aftermarket mufflers and clock/tach housings available for the R1200C, as they had been discontinued. Phone calls to Motzie to buy more motorcycle farkles quickly turned into more extended fun phone sessions. Motzie became a fast friend of mine via phone, email, and the web, never mind the fact that we never met face-to-face. I could sense over the phone that Motzie was really the stuff of legend that brotherhoods revolve around.

Fast forward again to August of 2011, where a whole pack of Chromeheads met in Lincoln, NH for an annual summer rally called “The Rambling Pig.” It was the first time when I personally met fellow Chromehead friends in person, and I heard that there was a good chance Motzie was going to be able to make it. I couldn’t wait to meet him.

Well, the fifth annual “Rambling Pig” was a blast, with great rides, great food, and great people. However, upon arrival, I was disappointed to hear Motzie couldn’t make it due to a recent shoulder injury. After snatching the annual bottlecap snapping/flinging contest title from Green Mountain Cruiser, I remember having the very late-night (and very Laphoraig™ whisky fueled) bright idea to see if we could get Motzie on the phone – even though it was wicked late. I had asked if anyone had his phone number handy, and sure enough we quickly reached him via a cellphone on speakerphone. Under the stars and beverages in hand, the few of us remaining (Rocketman, Oceanman, Enfoman, Fleetwood72, and myself) talked to Motzie out in the motel parking lot while the rest of the gang had gone to bed.

Motzie, a large, powerful guy you’d want on your football team, apparently had shoulders so wide that apparently he couldn’t fit into his local Canadian MRI for imaging. He explained to us that he was scheduled shortly to cross the border for an open MRI available in the USA per his shoulder injury. Per my phone conversations with him, I certainly remember giving Motzie a playfully hard time about all sorts of things, and like a champ he gave it right back to me in spades. God love the man. If he had been able to make the rally in person, he certainly would have been “trouble with a capital T,” as I had expected.

Sure enough, an hour later I was still out there shivering, with Enfoman, Fleetwood72, and myself as the last men standing, thoroughly unable to get off the phone with Motzie. We were having too much fun. With his own drink in hand up in Canada, Motzie was helping us close out our party and was living up to his legendary Chromehead status. It was a perfect moment that I’ll never forget.

Finally, from a Food Biker™ connection that I only learned after his passing, Motzie was apparently renowned for grilling his biker friends thick slabs of marinaded rye bread from Toronto, which were lovingly known as “Rye Steaks.” (UPDATE: Read the comments below for information about this recipe.)

Motzie's Memorial Service.

To this day, I regret not having taken up his repeated invitations to ride up to him and visit in Ontario, as life does get in the way. However, the fact remaining that he left us after having done something that he so passionately that he loved, will hopefully offer some of us a bit of solace.

Does it scare the heck out of me that my friend was killed in a motorcycle accident?
Of course it does.

Do I feel like shouting at everyone driving a four-wheeled vehicle to be super-careful and to keep their eyes out for motorcyclists?
Sure.

Will I stop riding?
No way.

Will I continue to do my best and manage my risks?
Certainly.

When I’ll see the sunshine bounce off my chrome clock/tach assembly or my final drive cover, or when I roll on my motorcycle Ellabelle’s throttle and there’s a bit of a satisfyingly rumble there, warm thoughts of Motzie will surely spring to mind. I badly want to believe that motorcyclists who have passed on watch over those of us still on the road having adventures, and I hope that Motzie will be right there with me, wherever I go.

Motzie, thanks for showing me that the bonds of motorcycle brotherhood span both time and place. You will be missed by us all, my friend.

The Red Line back in service on late Saturday afternoon, on the Longfellow Bridge.

East Cambridge is my home, and is where the main events involving the Boston Marathon Bomber manhunt took place, aside from Watertown to our west. If you watched the news coverage on Friday, you’ve seen my neighborhood. Through the closed walls and windows, I can still hear the mosquito-like F# note of the helicopter whine, and I badly want it to go away.

It’s now Sunday as I write most of this, and I’m still trying to process the stressful events of forty-eight hours ago, let alone of the past week. It turns out that the Marathon Bombers had lived right up the street on Norfolk Street, and the shooting and carjacking happened right here in my neighborhood over in the other direction.

This past week, like many after 9/11, I turned to comfort food to cope. I needed to do something with my hands to distract myself and try to assert some control in my life, and preparing beautiful and comforting food is something I’ve been formally trained to do as a chef.

Upon hearing the news of the actual bombing on Marathon Monday, I robotically made chicken paprikash with wide egg noodles, roasted some broccoli with garlic in olive oil (dressed with lemon juice and freshly grated Parmigano-Reggiano), and finished off a bottle of Basil Hayden’s whiskey. I was already upset to have learned the day beforehand that a friend had been killed in a terrible motorcycle accident. (However, my friend Motzie deserves his own story, which will be published here on May 1st.) Like the rest of Boston, I had pushed through the week and focused on whatever needed to get done.

Tupelo Restaurant on Cambridge Street.

On Tuesday, the night after the bombing, I walked up the street to dinner at Tupelo restaurant for some wonderful Southern-influenced comfort food of pimento cheese, deep-fried cheese grit cubes, honey-dipped chicken wings, cornbread with butter, fried chicken, collard greens, cole slaw, and Tank 7 beer on draft. My server Bryan could tell I was stressed, and he lifted my spirits with both attentive service and good humor. It was just what the doctor ordered. I now realize in horror that at that very moment, just hundreds of feet away from where I sat, the suspects may have been in their apartment, plotting their next moves.

New Deal Fish Market on Cambridge Street.

On Thursday, I wrote and posted the article “We’re Okay, Thanks,” as I genuinely thought that things were slowly getting back to normal. Upon posting it, I walked around the block to Carl at New Deal Fish Market to buy some littleneck clams and giant hake loin to make a creamy, traditional New England clam and fish chowder to honor of our plucky Patriot and seafaring heritage. Carl always has outstanding fish and seafood, let alone a wonderful smile and a few moments to chat, no matter how busy he is (and he’s always busy). As for the chowder, given that the French helped us out greatly during the Revolutionary War, I had no compunction substituting leeks and shallots for onion. (Plus, potato and leek soup? It’s a winning French combination.)

On Friday morning at 6:30am, the radio alarm clock clicked on with the WBUR morning news, giving explicit and frightening instructions to stay indoors and to lock the doors, followed by a “Code Red” emergency robocall with the same information just a few minutes later.

The meme.

Events outside here were being broadcast via TV and web around the world, although I wasn’t allowed to even open the door. We really didn’t know if a madman with an IED strapped to his chest was running around outside. It was hard to know what was exactly going on.

Lockdown Breakfast.

Meanwhile, as some of you have seen on the Food Biker Facebook page, I joked that I “Kept Calm and Made Bacon.” (I wasn’t aware that a meme had already circulated around the Internet with this spin on this phrase.) In fact, I also made strawberry pancakes, and served them with local Grade B maple syrup and cappuccinos.

You all probably know the other key details of Friday, by what you’ve seen or read about this unprecedented manhunt, so there’s no need to recap all that here. However, given that we were ordered to remain indoors, the “lockdown” dinner that evening was prepared of on-hand ingredients: bison meatloaf (with Beekman 1802 Blaak Onion Jam), mashed potatoes, a mixed-green salad, and a bottle of Grand Cru Saint-Émilion.

And then they got the guy.

On Saturday evening, to de-stress and celebrate the conclusion of this nightmarish week, I went over to Chef Dante de Magistris’ restaurant Dante in my neighborhood last night for a knockout dinner, not to mention to help boost our local economy. (As businesses had been shut down everywhere, it particularly hurts a restaurant when you have to close.) As on Tuesday evening at Tupelo, our similarly outstanding server Jeff promptly proceeded to soothe my jangled nerves with the following delectable feast:

• a properly stirred (not shaken) Hendrick’s martini, served with blue cheese stuffed olives
  

  Restaurant Dante here in East Cambridge.

• some rustic Italian bread, served with olive oil, 12-year-old balsamic vinegar, and Pacific sea salt
• arancini (porcini risotto, scamorza, truffle honey)
• a salumi plate
• a white asparagus custard, served with grilled green asparagus with procuitto and shaved parmesan
• a glass of Super Tuscan
• mozzarella en carozza (fried mozzarella, with prosciutto cotto and a raw, spicy tomato sauce)
• a glass of Chianti Classico
• wild boar ragu with gnocchi
• rabbit ragu with tagliatelle
• fratelli (think Italian beignets) with four dipping sauces
• a cappuccino

Fratelli (think Italian beignets)

The light of the setting sun reflected off of buildings across the Charles River in Boston, casting a warm glow of the “golden hour” back on my fair town. A bride and groom were being professionally photographed right outside the window. Dante’s food was outstanding as usual. The Red Line T rolled on its tracks across the Longfellow “salt-and-pepper” bridge, with MBTA service having been restored. As soothing beats of Kaskade softly played in the background, I eventually found myself starting to relax with great food and great company.

It’s now Sunday. I ventured out again this morning with a trip to the supermarket, and it felt good to be outside. I came back home and made fried egg sandwiches with extra sharp cheddar cheese and sausage on English muffins, along with Sumatran drip coffee. This afternoon, it was homemade onion dip, with freshly peeled carrots and celery, followed by a half of a homemade English muffin pizza. Tonight will be chicken caccitore with spaghetti; I just butchered a whole chicken for the braise.

It’s been a long week of lots of comfort food, which blanketed with the sour tastes of sleepless nights, dry mouths and gritted teeth, and chalky antacids. I now recognize that this has all been incredibly frightening, no matter how tough I think I am. I realize that I had pushed my fear aside during Friday’s crisis, but it’s really hitting me now. Again, this happened right here in my neighborhood.

I can imagine that many Americans were largely glued to their TV sets on Friday, watching the events unfold for them on the TV news like some sort of surreal police drama. However, when something like this happens in your neighborhood, and you’re told to barricade yourself indoors and not open the door for anyone except a uniformed police officer, it’s a bit scary and traumatizing if you live here. Although I ultimately rejoice in that justice may ultimately prevail here in Boston, particularly in light of the capture of the second suspect, it’s not all a cause celebration.

Wrapped boats on the Charles River... just like the one the second suspect hid in over in Watertown.

I feel that my quiet neighborhood of East Cambridge had somehow been violated.

In American history, none of us have ever heard of such a “lockdown” before.  Like my fellow resilient Bostonians, I was able to push through and accomplish many tasks last week. We go on. However, the experience really felt a bit like 9/11. I’m guessing that on some level that I’m unconsciously unaware of, it will take some time to recover. I now jump when I hear helicopters or sirens outside. I hope that those reactions will quickly fade.

Sunset here in East Cambridge.

I will keep cooking.
I will keep riding.
I will keep living life to its fullest.

In fact, particularly with Food Biker™, I’m really looking forward to riding around America, and meeting fellow chefs and other Americans all around our great country. In my encounters, maybe I’ll wind up becoming an incredibly minor and informal ambassador for our fair city.

I will, like my fellow Bostonians, will “B-Strong,” de-stress, and celebrate the springtime with some badly needed closure.

At least I’m comforted by the truth that ultimately, you don’t mess with Boston and get away with it.

(Meanwhile, I’ll have another serving of carbs, please.)

Fenway at night.

As this challenging week closes out, people still want to know how we’re managing here in the Hub.

My guess is that we’re doing as well as we can be, given the circumstances. Obviously, it would help if the background drone of media helicopters quieted, the sirens were fewer, and local traffic eased up, particularly as we try to get on with our lives and try to enjoy some normalcy. (Sure, if you’re like me, you may be a bit emotionally raw and frazzled, but that’s what comfort food and fine spirits are for; there will be plenty of that this weekend.) In spite of the situation, I think we’re doing pretty well.

The media continues to focus on our resilience as a city. (For those of you who don’t live here, we actually still consider ourselves to be a “town” as opposed to a “city.”)  Sure, maybe we’re setting a wonderful example for the world.  In more cynical moments, I wonder if the media is trying to spin any obvious positive about Boston they can come up with (aside from our sports team fanaticism).

The Zakim Bridge.

However, the media is actually correct in recognizing that we have a unusual resilience here; it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You know that British WWII slogan “Keep Calm and Carry On,” that’s been especially popular this week on the Internet? Well, that’s pretty much how we roll here in Boston.

For years, I always admired the legendary ability of WWII Londoners who hung in there during the Blitz. With our collective courage having been put to the test this week, it’s clear to me that we embody that same spirit.

In fact, I’ve always seen Boston and London as sister cities, given our shared cultural heritage dating back two-and-a-half centuries. I’m sure that cultural anthropologists would be able to explain subtle and uncanny similarities between our two “towns,” including everything from un-navigable old-school street layouts with wacky rotaries, English street names and architecture, our accents (apparently the Boston accent derived from the English accent), and even shared colloquialisms such as a love of the word “wicked.” Maybe that British steadfast spirit remains in our collective consciousness centuries later.

Comedian Eddie Izzard once joked about having growing up in Europe, “where the history comes from.” Here in Boston, at times I joke to myself that Boston is “where the [American] history comes from.” We’re especially sad that the attack occurred during Patriot’s Day, which is supposed to be a fun day for kids and adults alike. We’ve got Revolutionary War re-enactments, complete with Paul Revere’s ride. We’ve got the big afternoon Red Sox game. Obviously, we have the Boston Marathon.

Nobody wants to work on Patriot’s Day, and it’s how we celebrate spring’s arrival. Unlike those in sunnier climes, we feel that we “earn” our warm weather, after typically suffering a challenging winter. Anyone who wants to bring forth malice and hate on a day where we, here in Boston, enjoy a bit of early spring fever, must have no soul to say the least.

The MBTA Commuter Rail.

Life goes on. A few hours after hearing the bad news, I soothed my nerves by preparing a comfort food dinner of homemade chicken paprikash with wide egg noodles, roasted broccoli with garlic, and cracked open some really good American bourbon whiskey. At one point, I was amazed to find that the kitchen was clean, as I had been robotically cleaning everything without paying attention. The next day, a similar  same thing happened when dirty dishes seemed to magically disappear as I spaced out in grief.

North Point Park and the Museum of Science.

On Tuesday morning, after very little sleep, I got up like the rest of Boston and got right back to work. When I’ve been unable to concentrate on the more thought-requiring work, I’ve thrown myself into more manual tasks. I’ve gone easy about taking motorcycle rides, as that’s something that requires one’s full attention to do it safely.  However, it really felt wonderful to get out yesterday for a nice long ride in the sunshine.

How are we doing here in Boston? We’re doing okay. Really. We’re keeping calm and are carrying on.

Because, that’s what we do.

Making chicken soup or stock doesn't have to be difficult, especially when you're sick at home.

Springtime can bring surprises. New Englanders really appreciate the first few days of sixty-degree temperatures, particularly after a long, hard winter. You can imagine that it’s incredibly frustrating to be sick at home with a nasty cold or flu on the first, warm sunny days of springtime, when it sounds like the whole world is waking up outside and you’re stuck in bed. When I really want to be cruising down the street on my motorcycle, instead I’m fitfully snoozing under the covers, with crumpled tissues strewn about.

However, I have a secret weapon that is so stupidly simple to make that even someone sick at home should have little problem to throw together in about ten minutes.

You want it to simmer. NOT boil.

It’s chicken soup. Lovingly referred to my many as “Jewish Penicillin,” for ages people have known that eating homemade chicken soup is a good thing when you’re sick. There are studies that show that chicken soup can be a help, and obviously it’s nutritive. Heck, even back from my medical school days I remember some random fact about chicken soup being “osmotically correct,” meaning that it’s close to the same osmotic concentration as your own. This is important, as chicken soup does a tremendous job of helping rehydrate you, which is what you really need when you’re sick.

People often ask me for a recipe for chicken soup. Like a lot of cooking, I’m happy to say that it isn’t rocket science, and you don’t need to buy cans of crappy, over-salted canned soup that won’t hydrate you as well (or taste as good) as the homemade stuff. This is a throw-it-together in the pot sort-of-thing (believe me when I say that you really don’t want to be worried about exact proportions when you’re sick), and you’re back in bed in a flash while the soup or stock slowly simmers away on the stove.

Like most dishes, I want readers to focus on the techniques involved, as opposed to focusing on the recipes themselves.  The word of the day is SIMMER.  I’ll get to that in a minute. If you forget everything else in this article, I just want you to remember the word SIMMER.  That’s important.

How do I myself make chicken soup (or stock?)  Here’s the general idea. I throw the following items into a pot:

• One whole chicken cut up into pieces (or largely bones, if I’m just making stock)
• Mirepoix (This is French for chopped carrot, celery, and twice as much onion. How much? Maybe a carrot, one or two celery stalks, plus one large onion.)
• Parsley (particularly the stems)
• A small handful of peppercorns
• Possibly a few bay leaves
• Possibly a lemon wedge

I fill the pot with water, I cover it, and bring it to heat no higher than a SIMMER, and let it go for at least two hours. For chicken soup, I’ll serve the strained broth with the meat.  For stock, I’ll pitch everything except the strained broth. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

What’s the big deal about SIMMERING? The key here is to bring the temperature of the soup/stock where small bubbles come up to the surface. At this point the temperature should be

Mirepoix: 50% onion, 25% carrot, 25% celery. A rough chop is just fine for this application.

somewhere between 180F-200F or so. The key thing is that you don’t want to ever let it get it up to a rapid boil (212F), or the soup/stock will turn cloudy, and it will look pretty unappetizing.

Okay, some of you are already raising your hands with questions. Here we go:

• What about egg noodles? Take the amount of soup/stock that you want to eat, and put that into a smaller, separate pot. For that, it’s now okay to bring that to a BOIL and toss in a handful of egg noodles. Stir and boil the noodles for as long as specified on the box. No need to strain. Just eat it when it’s not mouth-burningly hot..
• You’re probably at home and are sick, so keep it simple. Don’t bother peeling the carrot or celery.  Just make sure your veggies are clean, do a rough chop, and you’re good. As for the onion, just make sure it’s peeled and again, do a rough chop, and toss it into the pot. What about those celery leaves? Throw it into the pot.
• Remember: A stockpot is not a “garbage can.” Don’t just throw every scrap in there and think your soup or stock will come out tasting right.
• What about the scum and liquefied fat that rises to the top? Again, if you’re home sick, don’t worry about it. If you have time, periodically skim it off. (This skimming process is known as “depouillage.” You’re home sick. Skip it. Stay in bed. Let it do it’s thing.
• If you’re shooting for stock, you’re more concerned about cooking the bones as opposed to cooking both meat and bones together (which is soup). It’s your call.
• Whenever I roast a chicken, I save all the bones, cartilage, leftover meat bits, and even the fat – and put into a zip-top bag in the freezer. When I want to make stock, I have it on-hand and throw it in a pot and make stock. Waste not, want not.
• Chicken stock? I always keep a pint in the freezer in a “crabbo” (a plastic one-pint take-out containter) on hand, for deglazing a pan, to make a quick pan sauce, to make gravy, to bang out some last-minute risotto, or to even just enjoy as a quick cup of soup (if I throw some chicken meat in it).
• If you bought a whole chicken, use the neck. However, don’t throw the liver and gizzard into the soup/stock. It’ll give it an off-flavor.
• What’s with the photos of the deboned chicken pieces? I bought a whole, naturally raised chicken (think the good organic stuff; it’s not only better for the environment but it simply tastes better), quickly deboned and deskinned the breasts, including the leg/thigh quarters as single pieces. The chicken went into a zip-top bag, and I tossed it in the freezer for another night’s dinner. Everything else went right into the pot. (Two dinners in one!)
• Made a roast chicken for dinner. Save and freeze the bones for the next time you want to make chicken stock. (For me, I seem to make chicken stock every six weeks or so, and more so during the wintertime.)

Again, chicken soup or chicken stock isn’t rocket science. It’s the ultimate “dump-and-stir” thing, which is what you really want and need when you’re sick.

Debone a whole chicken, freeze the meat, and save it for another night's dinner. Throw the rest in the pot.

So remember: Keep it to a SIMMER (not a boil), keep hydrated with soup and lots of fluids, take two aspirin, and call me in the morning.

Again, here’s more unrehearsed, unscripted footage that’s certainly not the standard Food Biker™ show format.  It’s rough around the edges, but that’s what practice is for. Right? As opposed to the first episode or the show trailer, continuing to polish and edit this footage simply wasn’t going to make it any better.  I hit a point where I decided that I should stop editing and just put it out there, and start focusing on upcoming filming.

Again, in this case, I composed the background music. I used to be far more involved with playing music when I was younger (especially keys and guitar), and it’s been fun to use that side of my brain again.

As for this episode, I bet that most of you out there don’t realize that starting a motorcycle isn’t as simple as you might think.  It’s not like starting a car, as you have a whole bunch of steps to perform before you can ride away.

Thanks again for watching, and let’s get (this motorcycle) started!

And remember…

Take the fork in the road.

Last Wednesday, the first Food Biker trailer launched and I haven’t been booed off the face of the planet. (I’ll take that to be a good sign.)

It’s time to screw my courage to the sticking place and launch the first Food Biker video. It’s likely not the handsomest effort, particularly given that it’s comprised of unrehearsed and unscripted test footage. (Heck, it’s not even the regular Food Biker show format, where I’ll be motorcycling around America and learning from other chefs.)

In this case, I briefly discuss homemade southern-style biscuits, and a few key things you need to remember to make them rise correctly when you’re prepping them.

It may not be much, but it’s a genuine first effort and practice makes perfect. Heck, I even composed the music again for this one.

My hope is that one day in the distant future, I’ll look back at it and will smile at how far the project has come, and most of all – that you’ll be smiling with me too.

Thanks for watching.  And remember…

“Take the fork in the road.” – Food Biker™

It’s time. You’ve waited long enough.

Since I founded Food Biker back in 2009, the actual Food Biker TV show continues to remain my ultimate, long-term goal.

However, one of the key steps to achieving this goal is to actually get the cameras rolling.

Realistically, one can hardly expect that any initial footage will be worthy of being broadcast on a television network. One has to shoot, shoot, and shoot. The more practice, obviously the better the end result.

But when is it good enough to show it to the public?

I’ll be first to admit that what will soon follow is anything but pretty or perfect. However, it’s time to put these very first efforts out to the universe, learn from it, be comfortable that it is what it is, and just keep filming.

To whet your appetite, here’s a 30-second trailer for the show, along with some music I composed for it.

Enjoy.

And remember…

“Take the fork in the road.” - Food Biker™

Riding in the winter is great if you plan ahead.

Winter in New England is not friendly to the two-wheeler in me, but it’s plenty friendly to the two-planker in me! I’ve always felt that downhill skiing is like motorcycling in the snow. Skiing downhill, you’re challenging yourself physically, while the scenery and the wind rush past your face.  When you’re riding, it’s the same–the wind and the scenery blowing past while maintaining balance and focus through those twisties. There’s also the thrill, the risk, the sense of danger-but-not quite. Skiing and riding are about the trip, too–having no real place to get to, just cruising along, enjoying the ride.

So while this two-planker’s is sad that winter in New England is coming to a close, the two-wheeler in me is thrilled. Regular motorcycle-riding season is just around the corner.

And I say “regular” because I am one of those guys who rides year-round. Why just the other day, it was gorgeous: 40 degrees, bright sunshine, potholes, road salt, and sand! Everything a late-winter rider could want.

Skiing and motorcycling are two sides of the same coin.

But what if you’re not nuts like me and your bike has been sitting for a bit? Well, here are a few important, non-riding season maintenance tips I’ve picked up over the years:

• Start your bike a few times during your non-riding season, even if you do leave it on a trickle-charger. It can’t hurt, and I find that it makes starting the bike easier in the spring.
• Change your oil and oil filter in the spring, particularly if you’re running regular “dinosaur” oil as opposed to synthetic. It tends to oxidize when it’s just sitting there all winter, and contaminants can damage your seals during long-term storage.
• Make an effort to put your bike away clean and waxed for the winter, and covered with a breathable cover. You’ll thank yourself in the early spring to a clean bike during your first ride, and any contaminants will have been removed long before they could stain the bike during storage.
• If you can, lift the pressure off the tires to help prevent tire flat spots from forming. During the winter, I typically try to roll a stored vehicle to different locations in the garage, so the bike isn’t just sitting in the same location for long periods of time. Have a center-stand? Use it. Also, keep those tires well inflated before storing it.
• Put some fuel stabilizer in your tank. That’ll help the gasoline from leaving a varnish-like residue in your fuel system. In the spring, be sure to fill up with some fresh gasoline.
• Stuff some crumpled plastic bags in the ends of your exhaust pipes. That’ll keep mice from setting up shop there.

Want to get crazy and do some early season riding?  Keep these tips in mind:

• Drivers (cagers) aren’t used to seeing motorcyclists out on the road this time of year. Be especially aware that they might not see you coming. Heck, it seems like bad drivers cut me off more frequently during the winter than during the rest of the year.
• A heated seat, vest, or grips are a godsend. You’ll thank yourself later. Trust me.
• Dress more warmly than you think you will need to. Often, I wear what I wear to go skiing to keep warm. Keep in mind that although it might be cold, it gets super-cold at high speeds due to the wind-chill, and you can quickly suffer frostbite.
• Be on high alert for road hazards (salt, sand, black ice, potholes). One bad skid could cost you your life.
• Check your registration and inspection stickers. Many motorcycle stickers expire at the year’s end, so don’t get pulled over with an expired sticker.
• Thinking about stopping in at the bar for a nip of whisky in the middle of your ride to warm you up? It’s not a good idea, as it’ll make you feel warm at the time. However, you’ll actually make yourself colder as your peripheral blood vessels will dilate and your core will cool down. Besides, alcohol and riding never mix. Save it as something to look forward to at the end of your riding day.
• A full-face helmet not only offers you more crash protection, but obviously keeps you warmer in colder weather.
• Stop a bit more frequently to warm up a bit. It may sound like common sense, but your body may lose heat faster than you think.
• If there are aftermarket removable fairings, grip shields, or windscreens available for your bike, they can lengthen your riding sessions many times over due to decreased fatigue from wind stress and temperature drop.
• Remember that in early spring, you typically get warm sunny days and the temperature still drops sharply at night. Plan ahead for this per your ride and your clothing choices.

Keep warm, and I’ll see you out there on the road and on the slopes!

My favorite candy bar when skiing. Put it in your jacket pocket, and it'll slightly freeze to change its consistency. (Read the halloween post about favorite candy bars.)

Dear Food Biker,

I’m having food angst! I’ve recently started dating a chef and he’s coming over on Friday night for dinner and I have no idea what to make!! I was at his house last weekend and he actually had appetizers: Oysters (seriously, oysters–at home!), bread with brie, and this bacon, garlic, onion spread that was amazing. Now I feel like everything I make is crap. I want to impress without looking like I’m trying too hard. Any quick and easy (non-pasta) recipes you’d like to offer up?

Signed,

Dating a Chef
Brattleboro, VT

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Dear DaC,

Huge props for your date for the oysters. Believe it or not, having them at home is actually much cheaper and easier than most people realize. I often serve them at home when I have guests, and it’s fun and interactive–but more on that in another post!

Serving oysters to guests at home has wow factor.

The least amount of pressure for any kind of entertaining is “make one, buy one”. No one will have an issue if you set out a simple, beautiful appetizer plate of antipasti. Get thee to the market and pick up a few different kinds of olives, one cheese (I suggest a chevre, as it’s light and pairs nicely with olives), and some roasted red peppers. Add a few crackers or slices of baguette and you’re done.

Don’t want to do that? Okay, then, here are two more super-easy, delicious appetizers.

• Buy a small round of brie and a good baguette. Slice the brie and baguette, place the cheese onto the bread slices. Drizzle with honey. Broil until bubbly and golden. Heaven on earth.
• Most markets carry some kind of reasonably decent prosciutto. Buy a package of it, then head over to the cheese case and buy some gorgonzola. Finally, find a package of dried figs. Cut the figs in half, stuff with a small piece of the cheese, then wrap with a slice of the prosciutto. (This is great because you can do it the night before. If you do, cover the serving plate tightly with plastic wrap, and store in the chill-chest. Take them out about 1/2 hour before serving so that they come up to room temperature.)

Let fresh ingredients speak for themselves.

Now, that’s the “buy one”, and we’re on to the “make one”. First and foremost, never assume that everything you make is crap and that every chef you encounter expects a gourmet meal. Anyone who knows that I went to culinary school assumes that I expect a Châteauneuf-du-Pape served with Beef Wellington, but it’s simply not true. Chefs know that cooking is an act of generosity. And, most decent human beings will appreciate the fact that you’re inviting them into your home to serve them a home-cooked meal. So, don’t feel self-conscious for a moment. Chefs are often more understanding about preparing food for someone else than would be your average dinner guest. And besides, when you thinking about food 24/7, it’s nice to sit back and enjoy the ride for a change!

Okay, so what to make? First and most important: Do not learn a new recipe for Friday night. Ask yourself: What is the best thing I make for myself? Is it a recipe a relative passed on to me? Is it a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich? Whatever it is that you love to cook for yourself, make it for your chef-friend. Add a simple green salad, a bottle of wine, and a smile and I guarantee you will have a happy guest. (If you and your guest don’t drink alcohol, a nice option is Italian lemon soda. It’s clean, crisp, and not too sweet.)

Even a simple homemade stew will do the trick.

Okay, so say your favorite is, oh, Quisp cereal and you don’t want to go that route. Well, I’d go with stew (or chili). One-pot meals are forgiving, easy to make, and can be made ahead of time and reheated when guests arrive. The basics behind any stew are pretty much the same, whether meat- or vegetarian-based.

• Finely chop up one onion, one carrot, and one piece of celery. Don’t have all three? Just go with the onion.
• In a large pot, set over medium heat, heat up two tablespoons of olive oil.
• Add the veggies and a pinch of salt. Stir occasionally, cooking until veggies are soft.
• If using meat, you can go with either chicken or beef. If so, cut up your meat into evenly-sized cubes, and, after the veggies are soft, add the meat cubes to the pot. Cook over medium heat until the meat has browned. (Note: If you want to go vegetarian, then use hearty, solid root vegetables in place of the meat. A good combo would be turnips, winter squash, and mushrooms. You could also include a hearty grain such as quinoa or bulgur.)
• Once the meat (or veggies) have browned, sprinkle them with two tablespoons of flour. Stir to coat everything with the flour. (Don’t panic–this is going to look weird and sludgy, but that’s okay.)
• Cook for about two more minutes, stirring the sludgy mixture.
• Next, add three cups of either chicken broth, vegetable broth, or beef broth. (I like the Kitchen Basics brand.)
• Set this over low heat, stir occasionally, and in about 1/2 hour, you’re going to have stew. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

But again, do not stress about racing to learn a new recipe for Friday night: Chefs are super-grateful when anyone cooks for them, even if it turns out to be a bowl of Quisp.

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Even chefs will appreciate a humble bowl of cereal. It's your company that's important.

Have a culinary, beverage, or a motorcycle related question of your own, dear reader?  Submit your questions to dearfoodbiker@foodbiker.com, and let us know where it is you’re from!

The classic "Aviation" cocktail.

The first day of winter, and the holiday season has arrived once again in the Land of the Bean and the Cod, where the Lodges speak only to Cabots, and the Cabots speak only to God.

Granted the Cabots nor Lodges would enjoy the weather that blew in today, but I’m sure they’d talk about it. (Everyone talks about the weather in New England.) And while I may find it harder to bundle up appropriately for winter jaunts on the motorcycle, that doesn’t mean that I stop riding for the season. As long as the roads remain clear, and it’s dry out, I’ll still ride in low temperatures during the winter. Although I used to lower my motorcycle insurance in the off-season, it just doesn’t make sense anymore.  However, the battery trickler is on more frequently, as it does get cold in the garage and I find myself busy filling my motorcycle’s Christmas stocking with all the tiny niggling parts that I never got around to ordering during the regular riding season.

So while the bike is on the battery trickler, toasty and warm in the garage, waiting for those dry, sunny winter days, what am I doing to keep me toasty and warm? Having a cocktail!

Creme de Violette. Magic in a bottle.

Sometimes called an Aviator, the Aviation is its proper name, and it is, without question, one of the most perfect gin delivery systems around. The Aviation has its origins around the turn of the 20th century, when flying was a  novelty. It’s got a stunning, pale blue color that cocktail historians attribute to either the color of jet fuel or the sky. An Aviation will set you flying rather quickly, with its potent mix of gin and two liqueurs. Be warned–these go down the hatch a little bit too easily. Although it has cherry and lemon overtones, it’s very well balanced, and not overly sweet like too many of the liqueur bombs currently so popular.

So, why in the world is this drink so fantastic? I credit it to the inclusion of Creme de Violette.  Until recently, this heady purple elixir was unavailable in the U.S., but it’s once again available. Creme de Violette imparts the delicate flavor and aroma of violets, which complement the floral notes in gin.

Rob Iurilli, Abagail's stalwart bar manager.

When I’m not mixing one of these up at home, I can be found enjoying them at Abigail’s, in Kendall Square, Cambridge. Last year, I had the good fortune to strike up a conversation with the their bar manager, Rob Iurilli (formerly of  the B-Side)–and while many bartenders either haven’t heard of an Aviation, or sling what amounts to a gin sour–Rob does a masterful job. I mean, masterful to the point of perfect. I have road-tested this beverage in some of Boston and Cambridge’s finest establishments and no one comes close. I highly suggest you sidle up to the bar at Abagail’s, order up a few Island Creek oysters, and ask Rob to mix you the perfect Aviation. He’ll do so with a smile, and I can guarantee that there are few better ways than to start your evening festivities.

Island Creek Oysters. Perfection on the half-shell.

However, if you can’t make it Abigail’s, then I suggest you try this incredible drink in the comfort of your own home.  Here’s the “Aviation” recipe, dating back to 1911.  Make sure you get the proportions right! (The recipe below makes two drinks. Just cut ‘em in half for one!)

• 3  oz. good gin, such as Hendricks™, Blue Coat™, Cardinal™, or Bombay Sapphire™
• 1  oz. Luxardo™ maraschino cherry liqueur
• 1  oz. Freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1/2  oz. Creme de Violette
• Maraschino cherries for garnish, or, a lemon peel if you prefer

Shake all ingredients with ice in a shaker.
Strain into a cocktail glass.
Garnish with a Maraschino Cherry.

Abagail's "Aviation" cocktail. I couldn't wait until after the photo shoot to start enjoying it.

As always, please drink responsibly and I wish all of you dear readers a wonderful, tasty, and elegant holiday season. Santé!

(P.S.: Lynne Becker’s Libation Laboratory has the full story on the history of the Aviation cocktail here. Great job, Lynne!)