The drive to Syracuse from Westchester should take about four hours.  With maddening traffic and pit stops for food, more like six and a half.

I went up to Syracuse this past weekend with my friend Danielle for a triathlon training camp.  We’re both doing the Syracuse half Ironman next month, and this was a chance to get on the course and see how much suffering we’re in for (the answer is a lot).

Fortunately, we also ate well along the way.  Here’s a summary.

Friday
Like I said, the drive up should have been four hours, but accidents galore on 87N backed us up in a big way Friday evening.  By the time we reached the Middletown, NY area, we were both famished.  A jaunt down the main drag turned up every chain restaurant known to man.  We came upon an Italian restaurant and ventured in. Yikes. Not only was the place a ghost town (at 8:30 on a Friday night), it also had an antiseptic, nursing home smell.  We ventured out.

And found a diner.

When in doubt, always choose a diner.  Limitless menus, 24 hour, large portions, consistently bustling, interesting people-watching — you can’t go wrong.

You can barely make out my turkey dinner under all that gravy, but it’s there, and it even came with my favorite, matzo ball soup. Thank god for diners.

Saturday
Wanna break the ice with someone from Syracuse?  Ask, “Hey, what do you think of Wegmans?”  The Syracusans I’ve met display a fervor for this supermarket chain that borders on cultish.  They love Wegmans.

Now I do too.  Let me set the scene: We had just spent the past six hours churning through choppy lake water, battling endless hills and vicious winds on the bike, and topping it all off with a run. We’d burned through countless calories while subsisting on energy gels, sports drinks, bananas and bagels. It’s difficult to explain how badly you want real food after sucking down gel after gel after gel. It’s like in Survivor when a contestant wins a reward challenge and gets to eat a full dinner while everyone else huddles around a campfire roasting grubs.

Well, Wegmans was our reward dinner.  Danielle and I raced over there after training camp was over, and there should have been harps playing and pearly gates, because this… was heaven.

I snapped the above photo and the cashier and her friend burst out laughing. “Why are you taking a picture??” she asked in curious amusement.  ”I’m from out of town and have always heard about Wegmans,” I answered.  She clearly thought I was nuts.

Danielle was all about the Wegmans subs, picking up a turkey with the works.

I fixed myself a container of hot food from the buffet.

I realize it’s a supermarket buffet and regular food, but I can’t convey to you how hungry we were. At this moment, this made me as happy as anything from a four-star Manhattan restaurant. It tasted that spectacular.

Sunday
Along with Wegmans, you also can’t visit Syracuse without stopping at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que. And yes, we have a Dinosaur in Harlem, but the Syracuse location is the original.

Total mob scene, but somehow Danielle and I managed to get a table without any problem.

Dinosaur makes its own barbecue and hot sauces, and they’re set out on the tables.

We shared an appetizer of crispy fried green tomatoes with grated Parmesan.

Our server also mentioned one of the specials as “pork wings.” What in the world does that mean??  When I jokingly questioned it, she didn’t have much of a response.  I don’t think she knew what they were, either.

Danielle’s pulled pork sandwich:

Those three round objects are salt potatoes. I’d never heard of them before, but they’re a big deal in upstate NY.  Small white potatoes boiled in salted water?  I’m not sure, but they are good.

My plate of epic deliciousness, the Tres Hombres: brisket, pork ribs, pulled pork, cole slaw, cornbread and Cajun salt potatoes.

It was a huge plate of food, and I gobbled up every last bite, dipping the meat in Dinosaur’s Wango Tango sauce — barbecue sauce with a kick of habanero.

On the drive home, wouldn’t you know it, more traffic.  That’s what gas stations are for: bathroom breaks and junky food. Behold a Toll House chocolate chip cookie sandwich.

Finally, I should mention Danielle’s parents.  Not only were they gracious hosts who let us crash at their house, not only were they forgiving when I accidentally flooded their basement while taking a shower, but they even sent me home with food.

Danielle’s parents grow gorgeous vegetables and herbs in their back yard, and her mother packed me up a goodie bag of freshly picked produce:

Tomatoes, peppers, parsley and basil (the cucumber is from Danielle’s grandfather).

The first thing I did when I got home?  I made a pot of sauce.

I’m not kidding you, this was possibly the best sauce I’ve ever assembled. It had nothing to do with my cooking, and everything to do with the ingredients. The freshness and vibrancy of flavor were off the charts. I could taste each individual ingredient in a way that I never can when I make sauce normally.

When it comes down to it, that sauce may have been the best thing I ate all weekend.

Dinosaur Bar-B-Que
246 W. Willow St.
Syracuse, NY
315-476-4937