Actually, I can't prove I did--don't have a scale and didn't weigh myself before or after the North Fork Century last weekend. But I feel heavier, maybe by a pound or two, or at least by the weight of two slices of pie.
Briermere Farms of Riverhead provided pies at the second rest stop of the metric century route, where I ate those slices--first a huge piece of blackberry with a modest amount of whipped cream, and then raspberry, almost as big. The crusts were thin, dark, and crisp; the fillings fragrant, delicious, and not too sweet.
Before Pie: Christine and Kathryn
(photo by Jim)
After polishing off the raspberry, I was tempted to taste yet another--apple, raspberry-cherry, strawberry, blueberry--but contented myself instead with fantasizing about pie-eating contests. After all, I'd just eaten a third of a large pie, and it wasn't even Thanksgiving.
What I'd already had that day: for breakfast: a small slice of coffee cake, small pastry, half a bagel with cream cheese, coffee; at the first rest stop at the Harbes vineyard: a half-piece of pita with humus, a cupful of mixed nuts, good handfuls of strawberries and cherries, a small handful of blueberries, a miniature Larabar, a couple of pieces of candy, and probably more I've forgotten.
At the end of the ride, I had a hot dog, a veggie burger, an ear of corn, a can of Sprite, and a vanilla chocolate-dipped cone from the Mister Softee truck. Back home that evening, Jim and I ate some taramosalata with Afghan bread, cheese, and leftover greens and drank white wine we'd bought at a North Shore vineyard the day before the ride.
So maybe it wasn't just the pie that added the ounces. And maybe if I'd actually finished the metric century I'd planned to (Jim was the only one of the four of us who actually did), I'd have at least the illusion that I'd lost weight--unless I'd eaten too much of the foccaccia that Jim enjoyed at the tasting of Harbes wines at the final rest stop.
After Pie: Mitch, Christine, and Kathryn (photo by Jim)