In the heart of Toronto's Distillery District.... eh? Right, in the midst of the Baudrillardian funfair (not my term, but I like it) that is the Distillery District... the Ontario Spring Water Sake Company, aka Izumi. Brewed on premises, a pretty small shop, unfortunately toji wasn't there or we could have had an interesting conversation.
I was very much hoping to buy a few things, support the good fight. But, not without sampling first. Near as I can tell, everything sold is a variation on a single batch (made from California grown rice, I'm guessing it's Kakuho rose, brewed with sake yeast #7.) Pretty much everything was nama... nama nama... nama cho... genshu nama nama... Didn't try the nigori, because, surely, it was just unfiltered nama nama... or genshu nama nama...
Mildly embarrassed at the prospect of leaving empty-handed (having wangled a free sampling), I noted on the chalkboard, batches #36 and #38. A pair of small-batch arabashiri. That's the spirit. Nama nama and genshu both, both much drier, and cleaner, than the regular releases, but both still very much off-dry to my taste. Both were very faint of nose, but very fruit forward with the melon, followed by a pronounced bitter finish. If anything, the ever so slighty stronger 38 (18% vs. 17.9%) was less syrupy and a bit more bright and jangly than the 36.
Friday morning, October 21st. Took an early morning bus from Philadelphia to New York's Port Authority, cycled down to Penn Station, met my cycling buddy from Brasil, Y., and hopped on the 11:14 Long Island Railroad service to Montauk, the eastern tip of Long Island. Our second "loaded" tour together, our first on road bikes
GPS is a wonderful thing, and getting off at Bridgehampton station, we cycled the hard 2 miles to our first stop, Long Island's most enigmatic winery, 
Approaching the tasting room, which was all but empty. Amongst the Gods which we had unwittingly summoned, the Lord of Fair Weather and the Lord of Empty Tasting Rooms were our foremost companions. I should note that the ever so crafty Lord of Ill-Conceived Shopping was also present along the way.
Our pourer had recently visited both Gravner and Radikon, and we had a full slate of Friulian-inspired wines to try. The highlights were a Tocai Friulano, two actually, both appearing varietally correct, though only one really pleasing; and the Meditazione (above), a skin-fermented blend of Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Tocai, Muscat Ottonel (!), and Pinot Grigo. Wild! 
Their Ramato fell a bit short of the mark for me, but in general, it was an adventuresome portfolio. A not-quite-Jurassic chardonnay, Malvasia Biancas, and a pair of quite reasonable Blaufrankisches. The Refosco and Lagrein were both sold out, but we were given access to far beyond the normal tasting, and the effort, even if slightly wide of the mark, is very much appreciated. Chapeau!
Hmm... two miles covered in two hours, two loaves of bread (freshly baked with the winery's lees, and delivered as we were tasting) and three bottles of wine strapped to bikes now. Not a good sign. Only 40 miles to cover today, barely a warm up, but still...
Head down, we cycled strong for the next couple of hours, but on a long and lonely stretch, in which the sea sounded on both sides, and hunger pangs began to rise, this clam bar beckoned shortly before reaching Montauk.
$30 for a Lobster Roll and a bottle of local beer! Jeez... I mean, I feel it is always imperative, on these cycling trips, to sample the local fare, but this was painful. Tasty, but painful.
We reached Montauk with sunset approaching, but it turned out we had another 6 miles to go to actually reach the Lighthouse, which, if we were to say we cycled the length of the island, was a must. And, up until reaching the village, our route had been reasonably flat, and me, with a racing gears set up, felt reasonably confident that I'd survive. Unfortunately... this last stretch was very hilly. And it got dark. And it got cold. And my GPS battery died... fortunately, we had clothes (aha! loaded touring!) And we had a backup GPS! Woohoo! Fully chilled, we got to our "motel", basically, a set of rooms over the dodgiest dive bar on the island, but there were two queen size beds, the room was reasonably clean, and warm, and the shower had absolutely no flow control. It was glorious. Hot shower, followed by a great meal in the town's "best restaurant", 
Serious day of cycling today. Leaving Montauk, passed the tallest structure in town. Dubbed, "Montaukparnasse"...
Oh Gods of Shopping, why would you put a "Last Day Sale" at the surf shop just as we leave town? Don't you know that we have 115 miles to cover??? It was a minor disaster. Everything, $5. I bought 3 t-shirts for my friends' kids (staying at their place tonight), plus two jackets for the Mrs. Y. nearly came away with a wetsuit. And a kayak.
Now, the shorter route would have been to stay on the South Fork and proceed straight west, but we decided we would tack on an extra 20 miles and cut up to the North Fork, where most of the L.I. wineries are. This required a couple of bridges and a two-leg ferry journey to and from Shelter Island. You will note the cycling jersey, a fundraiser for the Japan tsunami.
Beginning the North Fork wine trail.
And not 50 meters from that last sign, our first stop, 
By now, we were falling more than a bit behind our intended pace. Four bottles of wine, 2 loaves of bread, and half a surf shop...
Next stop, not 3 miles later, 
We also had some lunch, one loaf of bread (to lighten our load, of course) and some jamon iberico that Y. somehow wangled in with him. Don't ask, I don't want to know.
Now several hours behind schedule, we finally made it back to the Hamptons, passing this very fancy McDonald's. Why didn't we stop for some nuggets??
By this time it was evident that there was no way we were going to make it to our destination within an hour of sunset, so we had to make new plans, and that was, get to a train station. Looking at the schedules, we had few choices, and a tight schedule to keep to, with a further 2 hours on a local train in order to make it to my friends' house for the night. All in all, we cycled about 70 miles in 10 hours, including ferry rides, wine tasting, eating, and shopping (we stopped at not one but two more bike shops looking for geegaws and doodads... I do have some extra bright yellow handle tape now). Not too bad, I suppose. And in speaking with one of the bike shop owners, it seems that 70 miles per day loaded is not an unreasonable upper limit.
Arrive at my friend's place we did. And a great dinner followed by a deep sleep. But given our glacial pace, and our absolute need to reach the Wall Street piers in Manhattan by 12:35 it was a quick exit and a not entirely pressure free 40 mile ride the next morning.
Would you believe, Brooklyn?
Crossing the Williamsburg Bridge... a bit off course and costing us time, my GPS absolutely refused to recognize the Brooklyn Bridge - it would have been shorter, more direct, and allowed us time to cycle round the WTC memorial, but it didn't work out. A nice ride all the same, and awesome that the bridges in NYC are so bike friendly.
Made it to Pier 11, for the Sandy Hook ferry, with 10 minutes to spare.
Hmm... bike seems very much more laden than when we began. Sensibly, a water bottle was ditched for more important items. This has inspired our next business concept, attempting to latch a case worth of wine to the frame of the bike... stay tuned.
Having reached New Jersey, and crossing to the barrier island community of Sea Bright...
Lunch on Longbranch beach
Through the farmlands of Monmouth County, the last few, slow, painful miles to Freehold, NJ, where we arrived at my in-laws' house approximately 3 minutes ahead of schedule. My father-in-law couldn't believe it, but there we were, 80 miles later. Originally, we were going to spend the night and cycle down to Philly the next day, but having ridden that 70 mile stretch before, I knew that it was fairly uninspiring terrain, and frankly, I wanted to get home to the kids.
Yet another trip that incorporated both exercise and the gaining of weight. First stop after deplaning, 
Although, yes, we ate the famous oysters, this local dish, berbigão, was definitely the highlight - literally hundreds, maybe thousands of cockles, stewed with potatoes and served with rice, farofa (powdered manioc), and also what I can best describe as a manioc-based poi. How DO they open all those cockles though? Hard work. Delicious!
Big avocado! Must be the humidity/gravity/timezone.
Biker's repast of fried polenta, palm hearts salad, and caipirinha.
Rice fields near Ilhota. I don't know what the breed of rice is in this area, but it was very tasty.
Bananas near Luiz Alves. Acres, and acres of banana plantations.
I'd always imagined chicken coops to be smellier.
Oddly, I enjoyed the Peruvian food better at the restaurant literally around the corner from my friend's place than I did in Peru... well, I exaggerate a little, but... and yes, this is what you think it is.
Porto Belo may not be up to much, but it does host some fantastic baked goods.
How did it take a week to actually eat some proper beef? Our celebratory post-cyclethon dinner.
Washed down with some surprisingly decent Brasilian wine. Not particularly interesting, but not bad, not "fake", not aspiring to any international stylings, which was nice.
Moqueca, Brasilian fish stew. The coconut milk and corander had me a bit confused, with the right level of heat this could have passed for Thai (but brought back to center with some local chili concoctions.)
And finally, last meal, a family barbecue, churrasca, in the built-in fire pit... must get me one of these.
On a mountain-biking (300 km in 3 days - we learned later on that it was intended as a 6 day ride) trip in the south of Brasil, in the state of Santa Catarina, we overnighted in the town of Luiz Alves, a municipality with about 9,000 residents and 25 cachaça distilleries. A solid ratio, and a fine place to kick off a hard day's riding.
My riding partner was not so keen on this liquor, but a glass at dinner changed his mind - smooth and delicious.
Spezia was recommended by the owner of the hotel we stayed in, and despite it being a sleepy Monday morning at 7... ok, 9, they rustled up someone other than the puppy to show us around. 1km down, 120km to cover today.
The cane fields surround the town, not so obvious amidst all the banana plantations, but nonetheless, locally grown. After the juice is pressed, it is collected in these large open fermentation vessels.
The only still on the property, but a hefty size.
Aging room for the young cachaça, aged 1-2 years and intended for mixed drinks.
The barrel room - oak barrels, most printed with the names of various Bourbon distilleries, but apparently not previously used. Didn't quite understand this. The room isn't exactly open to the elements, but it was very warm and humid.
Of course, alcohol to clean makes sense, but it didn't inspire much confidence.
Which was, of course, very, very wrong. DELICIOUS, 15 years old, smooth and textured, full of flavour, including a mild hint of vanilla, from the oak no doubt. Wow.
Interesting, informative tour, but we had a lot of cycling ahead of us this day, so really we had to push off, but wait, what's this? A tasting bar??
Well, you can guess what happened next. Only the lack of storage space prevented the strapping of barrels to the bikes - only a single bottle of that lovely 15 year old elixir. The light weaving along the dirt paths that morning suggest it was for the best.
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