Well, as Lance Armstrong and my husband Mark would say, it’s not about the bike. I’m not entirely sure what a 7 time winner of the Tour de France means when he says it’s not about the bike, but I think I do know what Mark means. For weekend riders, it’s a lot about the people. And I’m thinking it might even be a little bit about the food. Eating is a big interest for a lot of bicyclists; eating well, eating right, eating food that tastes good.

I had a pleasant post final class breakfast with a few of my mates this morning in another Wilkes-Barre favorite, the S&W diner. We talked a bit about upcoming rides, about local politics, about coffee, about cooking. One of the items of conversation was the perfect hamburger roll. No doubt there is room for disagreement on what constitutes the perfect roll, but bottom line is that it’s not to be found in those soft and spongy packaged supermarket offerings. A perfect roll has character, but defers to the meat. It delivers substance enough to hold a juicy burger, but is not over the top country bread chewy. It’s the perfect delivery system for the perfect burger, which is a whole other topic of discussion.

I’ve experimented a bit with hamburger roll recipes, and think I found a winner in the Kaiser roll recipe on The Fresh Roll. Check it out. The all important malt powder can be found at alternative grocery stores, which for me means House of Nutrition, in Luzerne, PA.

My photo, my home baked rolls—good even without the burger.

My attempt to grow parsnips in my square foot garden in 2009 was a flat out failure. No growth above ground and none below. By most accounts, parsnip seeds do not winter well in the refrigerator, so I couldn’t even count on a 2010 second chance from 2009’s unused seeds. But I did save them (what’s another pack of seeds crammed in an empty tin?), and took a second shot at a parsnip harvest this past summer.

I am not an experienced gardener—just experienced enough to know that sometimes root veggies can produce an awful lot of greenery above ground and a distressingly awful lot of nothing below. When the leftover parsnip seed that I planted in two square feet of garden in mid July started producing voluminous top growth in September, I was not quite ready to declare success. It’s now November. And the next time somebody says that simple pleasures are the best, I’m not going to roll my eyes. I’m going to remember how happy I was when I pulled these beautiful parsnips out of the ground.

Looking back, I wish I kept gardener’s notes. If I had to pick a few keys to 2010 success, I would have to include planting in mid summer instead of spring, making sure the soil was richly supported with my homemade compost and regular watering, and trusting in the possibility that I am one lucky gardener.

I ordered a Sambuca Salad and received a house salad. (Perhaps I’m nitpicking here, but maybe it would be a good idea to call the house salad the Sambuca salad since that is, after all, the name of the restaurant.) I stuck with the salad I was brought. It was a simple plate of mixed greens, tomato and red onion dressed with feta cheese, olive oil and red wine vinegar. These kinds of simple salads can be really wonderful when they’ve been constructed with care, but this one was off the mark. The vinaigrette was tasteless and the tomatoes (at the height of tomato season in NEPA!) were ice cold and underripe. Refrigerated tomatoes simply do not belong in a salad coming out of good kitchen.

It’s worth repeating that my pasta entree was good. But for a restaurant that earned such high praise in its first year, this dining experience was, on the whole, just not good enough.

Sambuca Grill and Bar, 234 Penn Ave., Scranton 570-961-5205