Posts Tagged ‘Pashley Clubman’

By request: Cycling and foodie things

January 25, 2012
The FridgeaDog

Leftovers — they're what's for dinner. And breakfast. And lunch. Annnnd dinner. ...

Egad. Eighteen degrees with a high of 57 forecast. That sort of thing is a shock to the system. It’s also SOP in Colorado. The trick is finding the sweet spot for a longish bike ride in that temperature range. That, and trying to stay out of the wind.

I’ve been road testing bikes again — a Pashley Clubman and a Bike Friday New World Tourist — but I feel like riding one of my own machines today, maybe the Voodoo Nakisi MonsterCrosser®.

The thing is a tank but it’s become my go-to bike for some reason. The 700×38 rubber suits pavement, gravel and single-track alike, and the low end of 22×26 means I can climb a tree if being chased by an angry reader.

Speaking of angry readers, James wants “more cycling and foodie things, less politics.” We’ve covered cycling, so let’s move on to foodie things.

I’ve been trying to stretch the food dollar lately, having bid adios to Los Zopilotes de San Diego. And it ain’t easy, because I dearly love to commit eating.

Pork chops are a fave, and the other day I pulled a pound and a half of same from the freezer to thaw. But I got to thinking that a pork chop disappears pretty damn’ fast, as in during one meal, unless you’re a nibbler, which I am not.

Enchiladas, beans and posole

Leftover enchiladas, beans and posole. Much more of this sort of eating and Tom Tancredo will demand that I produce a birth certificate or be deported. Hah! Slipped some politics in there, didn't I?

So I diced a pound of the chops and made a pot of posole, which inspired the cooking of a pot of pintos with chipotle and the assembly of some sausage-and-cheddar enchiladas in red chile sauce. We’re still eating on that mess — in fact, Herself brown-bagged a small container of leftovers to work for lunch.

The remaining red sauce, beans and sausage, meanwhile, will get turned into tonight’s dinner of sausage-and-bean burritos smothered in red with a side of posole and salad.

And that half-pound of pork that didn’t make it into the posole? It was featured in last night’s nuclear kung pao pork with rice. The leftovers from that will be my lunch today.

So there you have it. How to stretch your swine into a fine line, by Chef Dog. Bon appétit.

Little wheels keep on turnin’. …

January 3, 2012

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to flat you.

Off the back as usual, I didn’t get around to my first ride of the year until today.

I’m road-testing a couple of bikes for Adventure Cyclist — a Pashley Clubman and a Bike Friday New World Tourist Select — and today it was the folding bike’s turn under the fat bastard. I was gentle, inflicting only an hour’s worth of light spinning on the poor little thing.

Despite some unseasonably warm weather following our last snow there was still a fair amount of ice and snow on the deck, and I found myself wishing I’d ordered up a set of fenders with the NWT. But what the hell? I’ll take a wet butt outdoors over a dry one indoors, especially after a heavy morning of networking via Facebook, Twitter, website comments and phone.

All was going swimmingly until the homebound leg when I heard a tick … tick … tick … coming from down below. I thought I’d picked up a goathead, and saw what I thought was one on the front tire, but it seemed lodged solidly in there — and this was a Kevlar-belted tire, mind you — so I kept on going rather than stop to pull it and then deal with the roadside flat repair.

When I got home, what I thought was the ass-end of a goathead wiped right off the front tire. So I checked the rear tire and found what looked like a homemade, half-assed caltrop in there. Kevlar, Schmevlar — that sucker shot right through it like a small beer through a tall Irishman. I pulled it out and psssssssssshhhhhhhhh. …

So tomorrow I get to fix my first flat on a teeny wheel. Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?

Pip pip, cheerio, wot?

September 22, 2011

One of my reasons for going to Sin City this year was to ID bicycles that want reviewing in the pages of Adventure Cyclist, and did I come home with a beauty — a Pashley Clubman.

The folks at Pashley have been making bikes for the better part of quite some time — since 1926, to be precise — and they seem to have it more or less dialed in at this point. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a bike draw as many eyeballs as this one has in the short time we’ve spent together. Everybody notices it, even people who couldn’t care less about bicycles. It’s that sharp.

The Clubman reminds me of the bikes I bought when I got back into cycling in the early Eighties: steel frameset, non-aero brake levers, quill stem, eight-speed downtube shifting, 36-spoke wheels, toeclips and straps; a real blast from the past, and clad all in shiny black and silver, too.

I have to swap out the stem before I can put any serious miles on it — I need to get up and out quite a piece to accommodate my geriatric spinal column — and frankly, I can’t wait.

Meanwhile, at least we can gaze fondly upon it. Here are a few pix.