08.29.2010 by Andrea
I love eating. Obviously, hence this blog. I loathe, let me repeat, LOATHE, the art of working out. The perspiration, the preparation. Now let’s be honest, I always enjoy the end results, and since I appear to be eating for three I must perform vigorous exercises throughout the week. My saving grace has been bootcamps. You’re squired away in a small room, doing calisthenics and you have a trainer type directing you through the class. A great big sweaty mess, but you feel breathless and accomplished at the end of the hour.
Living in the Pacific NW has its attributes and drawbacks. One thing that Northwesterner’s love is the 5k race. Typically not painful and then one can indulge in a mass breakfast post race.
I’ve been able to conquer a few of these races and then boldly have signed up for half marathons thinking the benefits of carbo loading would outweigh the actual race. Umm, WRONG!!!!
I will probably continue to perpetuate this angry cycle. One of my pals, J, is a naturally gifted athlete. I’m a firm believer that she has those quick twitch muscles that allows her to run at any time, and any distances. Me? I’m a professional spectator. Running means grinding out an experience, pounding the pavement and hoping desperately that the end is in sight. So I’ve developed the wog, a walk/jog. It works for me and apparently millions who follow Jeff Galloway. It’s how I survive.
This past summer we, J and I, decided to kickoff summer with rock hard runners bodies and lofty running goals. We registered early and eagerly anticipated a beautiful course. Needless to say it would have probably behooved me to sell my race bib.
But I didn’t. So the day before, we attend the expo, and then I coerced J into swinging by Pyramid Brewery for a quick bite to eat.
Being that I am major purveyor of Pyramid beverages, on several occasions I’ve dined at the brewhouse with no problems. I love the chop salad and presumed I would enjoy the macaroni and cheese as well. It is my favorite food and I’m on a constant quest to find the best.
Since we were on a mission to ingest carbs, it seemed reasonable to opt for the multi cheese, calorically laden, gooey mass of tastiness.
Pyramid was hopping that evening, so service was a bit pokey. I dug into our entree with gusto. I figured a good meal would pre-determine my race fortune. Much like my training, the m & c fell short of the goal. My face must have been awash with emotions as J, was poised to take a bite. I nodded forlornly, she too had the bite of disappointment. We quickly reviewed the cheeses in our concoction and then came to a quick conclusion. They interfered with one anothers flavors. We attempted to revive the dish by dipping each forkful into a side of bleu cheese dressing to no avail. Upon further discussion with our server we were informed that had we gone with the supplemental ham the flavor would have dispersed better. For such a hearty portion we kept tinkering with each bite. Salt? No. Pepper? Valiant effort. Finally we gave in and left a third of the dish to be recycled.
So the hunt continues. Where should I go next to find the best mac and cheese?