In which I discover that Manitoba does not have the thickest topsoil in the world

January already, you say? The end of January? Time does fly...

After a too-short but wonderful trip to the east coast to see friends and family I was home in California over break. I didn't do much, which was exactly what I wanted. By the end I didn't want to leave the safety and comfort of home, but as I was flying back to Toronto I remembered how lucky I am to be in school studying something I love. When one takes the time to stop and count one's blessings, it is amazing how many one can find.

Back in Toronto, school started up with a vengeance. Most of my classes are the same; no more French or Spanish, but with the addition of Italian. We've already had one master class for the ADV program, a repeat of one we had in the fall with Wendy Nielsen. It was really interesting and helpful to have the chance to work with her again, and she once more gave both fantastic individual coachings and a public class on Friday. I'm making some recordings for summer programs in a few days so I went over some of the repertoire I'll be singing for that (some Schubert, Wolf, and Messiaen). In my Concert Repertoire class (taught by my voice teacher, Monica) we're now studying Fauré's song cycle "La Bonne Chanson." I wasn't familiar with it before but I'm so glad we have the chance to delve into it now; late Fauré is so satisfying to sing (and is fascinatingly chromatic and different).

We're also in the thick of music rehearsals for Calisto. Last night there was a bat squeaking around in the rehearsal room, Mazzoleni Hall! Somehow this led to a protracted discussion about bats and then California and then agriculture, and I was informed that Manitoba does NOT have the thickest topsoil in the world! Apparently it's in this former marshland area north of Toronto.

What else novel to report? A furry denizen, Paulie the polydactyl cat (kitten)! He is seven months old now, I think, but about as big as a fully-grown cat. He is rather rambunctious. He enjoys playing games and trying to be as annoying as possible, and he has amazing paws. And a lopped-off ear. He is also dangerously cute, which makes up for him rattling toys about in the middle of the night and attacking your feet when you try to walk across the kitchen. He is quite wonderful. Zenith takes the cake, of course, but that's no surprise...

Since returning I've made some pretty tasty bread (a pain de mie) and, just this evening, some molasses-almond-walnut-dried fruit granola and some chocolate chip banana bread. Recipes to follow, but a picture of tonight's efforts for the moment:

And now I shall delve into something girly and discuss bras, which may alienate a portion of my readers. Sorry 'bout that...

Today on my bike ride home I stopped in at Secrets from your sister because I ride past it every day, and because I'd noticed they had a big "sale" sign in the window. It's a bra shop and I knew I'd heard something good about it in one of the free Toronto magazines or something, so I figured I'd stop in. Turns out that, though it's not in the nicest of neighborhoods and is situated across the street from a discount store that's lit up like a circus, it is priced WAY out of my league. The bras run from about $120 to $190 and the sales rack didn't have anything in my size. Despite the fact that I arrived with my backpack, lunchbox, and biking gear, they were surprisingly friendly and took the time to fit me properly even though I explained that I probably wouldn't buy anything. I've known for some months that I've been wearing the wrong bra size, but unfortunately I also discovered that my band size isn't made by most bra manufacturers. It turns out I need a size 30 and I guess there isn't much of a market for anything below 32. I didn't even know that sizes below 32 existed until I measured myself a few months ago and was confused by the numbers... consequently I'd been keeping my eyes open for bras with a size 30 band but hadn't even seen any in any stores since then. Anyway, though I didn't buy anything, the salespeople at the store were very helpful and very kind. It was a strangely empowering experience, and I felt more comfortable there than I have in most stores I've wandered into in Toronto--and I wasn't even wearing a shirt. And people were poking me. Now that says something! Hopefully this will also serve as a reminder to those of you that haven't been recently fitted that... you're probably wearing the wrong bra size! Because apparently most of us are! Including me! So, you might want to see if there's another friendly place like this in your area and get yourself properly sized up. So to speak.

And, as a coda to this disjointed post, then I went to Economy Fruit and the Economy Fruit Lady was back! She had been gone for a long time and I was despairing a bit, but I am so happy that she has returned.

A pianist, a bassoonist, and a soprano take Georg Friedrich Haas to Niagara Falls...

(An image of the Toronto Christmas parade a few weeks ago.)

Oh oh oh. (Ho ho ho?) It sure has been a while. I vacillate between wanting to update this blog every few days and forgetting about it for weeks. I think many things have happened recently, though I typically have forgotten most of them. We celebrated American Thanksgiving here a few weeks ago, on the Sunday after normal Thanksgiving. It was strange to be here and to know that everyone in the States was gathering for big meals and family while we were in classes, as usual. Luckily--thankfully--the Comrades upstairs joined us in a feast a few days later. I bought a free-ranged, Mennonite-raised chicken from Gasparro's meat market and made a dizzying array of dishes including: the roasted chicken (simple, with herbs), polenta stuffing (both vegetarian and with meat), a warm cabbage salad with pomegranate, a mushroom bread pudding (for the vegetarian entree), and two kinds of desserts (an apple-pear pie with a cheddar cheese crust and almond/chocolate macarons). Ryan made some mashed potatoes and Comrade MM made a delicious "sexy squash soup" and really fantastic Brussels sprouts, both from recipes in the New York Times. My recipes came from Gourmet magazine; though I changed most of them heavily I think they're all very interesting and you may enjoy clicking the links above to see them for yourselves. The bread I used in the bread pudding was also home-made and has been quite a hit recently--it's the one from a few posts back that we ate with soup. This is my third time making this recipe, and I've been changing it up with a few other additions/substitutions including wheat berries, sunflower seeds, oats, molasses, yogurt, lower-fat milk, etc., as well as making loaves instead of rolls.

(Ye olde Canadian Christmas tractor? It reminded me of Davis.)

Originally I'd thought I'd write a post about Christmas in Canada. It seems to come awfully early here, though perhaps I was largely sheltered from the holiday marketing in New Haven, Connecticut. There was is little in the way of big-box retail downtown, within student reach, and I was so busy that I guess I avoided it. Here, though, it smacks you in the face on November 1st. It felt a little forced in the beginning, but now that we're actually midway through December all of the lights and decorations are beautiful. There are a number of lit-up houses on our street and of course the department stores and malls all have lots of displays. Many of the corner groceries sell Christmas trees and wreathes, so the air is perfumed when you ride by. Ryan and I went to the Distillery District last weekend to have dinner and discovered that it is turned into a Weihnachts festival, complete with Weihnachtswurst and little wooden stands selling little gifts. It was rather lovely, though cold. In fact, winter seems to have finally arrived--today was positively (negatively?) frigid! It has also snowed a few times over the past few weeks, though nothing has stayed for long. My voice teacher, Monica Whicher, gave a beautiful recital last weekend of holiday music with harp (a bit like the album I recently recorded). It was wonderful (and instructive) to watch and hear her sing. She has a commanding stage presence in that she invites you into the space she creates and holds you rapt from beginning to end. I was very glad I had the opportunity to see her perform.

We've also had a smattering of excellent master class artists recently, most notably Sir Roger Norrington. Perhaps some more musings on him later, as what he had to say about period performance practice--particularly vibrato--was very interesting, but I think I would like to move on to the joke which I began in the title.

It is not so much a joke as real life, as Ryan, a bassoonist friend from The GGS, and I did take Mr. Haas to Niagara Falls. But it was a funny, somewhat surreal experience which I shall recount here:

After a few mishaps with the renting of the car (the bassoonist doesn't have a license but wanted to use his credit card, and the two names had to match; Ryan was to drive but doesn't have a credit card; and I arrived to help them out of the mess by officially renting the car myself) that put us a bit late to pick up Mr. Haas, we were on our way. He is extremely soft-spoken (and for those of you who don't know, he's an Austrian-born spectralist composer best known for the piece "in vain" which the New Music Ensemble performed a few days ago and which occurs, in parts, in complete darkness) and kind. His English is good, though he worries it is not good enough. He is always able to make himself understood, though, and I had fun talking to him a bit in German. He was happy to talk about his music and about his inspirations, though he seemed more animated when we started discussing Death Valley.

As a side note: when my dad and I were in the Southwest this summer we realized that about 80-90% of the people we encountered similarly exploring the Great Outdoors were either French or German. A bit of a mystery, I guess. How do you explain a bunch of Germans in southeastern Utah? Is it because the Euro is stronger than the dollar? Why aren't they in New York? Haas explained that it was his first time in a desert, ever. Perhaps we are too quick to dismiss the profound (and unique) natural beauty of our own country, even when we are enjoying it. Recalling the German landscape, and perhaps even the Romantic ideals of nature, it does make more sense that they would want to see our country. Anyway, I digress...

The day was overcast and cold and the trip relatively uneventful. We arrived in Niagara Falls City, a garish strip of blinking lights and towering hotels advertising breakfast specials. It's hard to imagine an uglier city, except maybe Las Vegas. They're rather similar. There are a lot of casinos and such. But, just as we passed an Alpine-themed restaurant advertising a $1.99 breakfast special and covered with murals of people in Lederhosen (closed, but up for sale!), I caught a glimpse of the falls. And they really are beautiful. I'm sure because we were there with a composer I was more attuned to the sounds they made than I might have been otherwise. Standing above the falls, the crashing sound of the water is not very strong. The sound of the river as it flows along is full of higher-pitched, gentle sloshings in counterpoint with the rumble from way down below. The volume of the water and depth and breadth of the falls is incredible. I know there are bigger ones out there (Victoria Falls, Iguazu Falls, probably others), but I haven't seen them. Haas pointed out that it is hard to train your eyes on one particular spot on the falls: you want to keep following the water, making that continuous glissando that appears in so many of his works. It was a little like being in a stationary car when a truck is pulling forward. Though you're immobile, you feel like you're going backward. In the same way, the water made you feel as if you were shrinking and the falls were growing. A little Alice-in-Wonderland-esque.

We walked around them for a while and eventually decided to try to make it to the other side of the gorge, America! So we walked to a bridge which had a little building with a funny little turnstile and a 50 cent toll. After collecting the proper change, we all pushed through and walked across the bridge. On the other side we passed through customs and I was finally in America after so many months! How exciting! I called home! On the other side of the gorge you can walk along the falls and the river, and over a series of bridges, to traverse the span of the island and falls. When we finished exploring it was almost nightfall (and very cold) so we looked for somewhere to eat. Nothing gave. There was a pitiful Christmas market, like in the Distillery, but on a Wednesday no one was out and about save ourselves and a few hardy vendors. Eventually we reached a giant casino, bedecked in stained glass and architecturally rather similar to a mega-church from the 1970s. Slightly creepy. Across the street: a TGI Fridays. Ryan and I had never been and Haas was hungry, so we went in. There literally wasn't a single vegetarian item on the menu, though they accommodated Ryan's request for a vegetarian pasta without question. Mr. Haas, luckily, seemed very happy with his steak (he is German, after all... and then I remembered the meals I had in Regensburg which, despite my efforts to the contrary while ordering, always seemed to result in a boiled hotdog floating forlornly in a soup tureen).

He very generously treated us to dinner in America and we traipsed back in the cold, over the bridge, through Canadian customs, and back along the river. By then the falls were illuminated in colored lights. Perhaps it was only in contrast to the beacons of consumerism--the giant guitar of the Hard Rock Cafe, the flashing signs and neon lights--but they were actually somewhat beautiful. It was nicer when, just as we were leaving, the lights became just white and the brilliance of the cascading water was illuminated further. In the huge plume of mist that results from the falling water in the Canadian falls the lights created circles of rainbows which seemed more like nebulae, images from the Hubble Space Telescope, than anything else.

The next night was the first performance of "in vain." I had heard slips and snatches, bits here and there, but not the whole piece. The effect was incredible. I haven't had an experience like that for a long time, probably not since hearing El Niño live at Carnegie Hall a few Decembers ago. There were moments of extreme beauty despite all the microtones grating against each other, something that usually gives me a headache. Because we often categorize those sounds as "noise" rather than music, parts of the piece were distinctly non-human and sounded more like machines than anything I'd heard in a concert hall. I had one strong mental image of an airplane flying happily through an Alpine meadow. Not a real airplane, but one which was native to that clime. I don't know why. The parts of the piece that were to be played in complete darkness were wonderful. I don't always like the dark. I'm not afraid of it, but with my bad eyes I think I value the light even more than I might otherwise. I especially love the sun now, when sunset comes so early. Anyway, I wasn't sure if the whole "pitch black" thing would come across as a gimmick. When the first period of blackness came, I was actually more frustrated that they hadn't achieved a true blackout. The exit signs were covered but light seeped around the edges, and the person controlling the light cues in the box was apparently inattentive and some light entered from there. I closed my eyes against the distractions and listened. In many ways it felt like a more true concert experience than what I normally enjoy. My mind often wanders, which I don't feel to be a detriment, but sometimes it wanders to inconsequential things and I begin to watch people. With a blackout, you are both alone with the orchestra and together with the other darkened bodies, but you are free to listen in a sort of stillness that comes from this sensory deprivation. The second blackout section is interrupted by flashes of light which become stronger and last longer as the piece progresses. These too were strangely powerful, another form of percussion. They were also very beautiful. You do not want the blackness to end, to be returned forcibly to the humdrum of people and clothing and faces and instruments and walls and chairs. I was so grateful for the opportunity to meet Mr. Haas, to see Niagara, and to experience his music.

Finally, here is a link to some beautiful pictures (and a little information) about one of my favorite types of squid.

Unrest

What an interesting few days it has been. This week saw another visiting master class artist, this time Timothy Noble. Working with him was illuminating and I feel like I made some fantastic progress. Hopefully I can keep it up! The issue with "quick fixes" on technique, as Ryan and I were discussing, is that one can become overzealous (or over-reliant) and then a fix can quickly become another fault. Such it is with life as a whole, I think. Anyway, it was once more a fascinating experience to work with yet another great teacher privately and to hear and watch him work with the other students in the master class on Friday. We're very lucky that, in the AD program, we'll get to work with both Timothy Noble and Wendy Nielsen (the previous master class artist) again in the spring. We're very lucky that we get to have master classes with so many talented musicians and teachers! And private lessons too! Ryan was busy as well, as he played at Beethoven sonata for Leon Fleisher, who is a quasi-faculty member at The Glenn Gould School, on Friday morning and with his trio for James Boyd, another visiting master class person, on Thursday. (Clearly I was also rather busy in the office last week.)

After the hustle and bustle I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I will begin rehearsing La Calisto next weekend so I was hoping to polish up the first act and learn some more Schubert and Messiaen (and continue working on technique, using my new tools!) in relative calm. However, I woke up feeling a little inexplicably sorrowful on Saturday. Nothing was really wrong, so I wasn't sure what was pressing on my mind. It was the day of The Game, so I was following along on my computer in the morning and absentmindedly waiting for the noon kickoff. I wasn't particularly concerned with the outcome; in fact, I expected we would lose (again... we haven't won since my freshman year). Quite frankly, I'm proud that my university devotes more resources to providing a stellar undergraduate education than to the football team. That's why we're better than Harvard. Ahem...

Anyway, I was poking about facebook when I first came across this video of the student protests at UC Davis: (warning--the video is graphic and disturbing, particularly at the beginning) http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=WmJmmnMkuEM# . I haven't been paying that much attention to the Occupy Wall Street protests. I saw a bit of footage of the Oakland riots and of course the New York Times will post photographs and articles from time to time. I knew that UC Berkeley students and been treated unfairly but I must confess that I didn't watch any of the videos (of them being beaten with clubs and assaulted by the police) at the time. I'm happy that the Occupy Wall Street protests are happening, and I definitely believe that we all--especially the top earners--need to be paying more taxes, but I don't have a problem with people making money or being successful. So, it would perhaps be safe to say that I'm really glad other people are doing the dirty work for me. Perhaps--though it is unlikely--you have not heard about what transpired. Though news reports are often conflicting, it seems that a group of students decided to camp out on the large quad area at UCD on Thursday. They received permission from the chancellor to do so. They provided food to many people, including passersby and the police (even the police officer that later sprayed the students. He was, by a student account, quite friendly at the time). On Friday the chancellor decided that the students could not stay. She ordered them to leave. Most of the students did disperse and most of the tents were packed away. It seems that about 10 tents remained by 3:30, when the police arrived. I believe that at this time they were told to pack up their belongings, so they put the tents away. However, the police still wanted to arrest some of the students. So, they began to arrest people. The students that were there (initially about 20) began to form a seated circle, with their legs crossed and arms linked, but left a pathway for the police to move in and out. More and more students began to arrive to watch the unfolding scene. Eventually, and without warning, the police began to spray the seated students with pepper spray. When the students did not move, the police sprayed into their mouths. When they tried to protect themselves with their clothing, the police sprayed under their garments. The police held people to the ground. I believe that 11 students were taken to the hospital to be treated for pepper spray-related injuries. Some were reportedly coughing up blood over an hour later.

It is one thing to read about what happened and another thing entirely to watch it unfold, if only from the safety of your computer screen. I almost started crying, not just because you can clearly hear screams of anguish from the sprayed students but because watching their reaction to the police is also deeply frightening, even if it is ultimately uplifting. Perhaps that's a funny way to express my feelings. I don't mean to imply that I believe the students were in the wrong, or that the actions of the police were in any way justified. In fact, I believe the students have provided a shining example of bravery and calm in the face of brutality and oppression. They're amazing. What is frightening is the sheer power they exude, the power of a group verdict, the power of a clan in the face of this armed, hostile other. Perhaps awesome (in its original sense) is a better word for them. The students prove here the impact of nonviolent protest. Though the video is disturbing, I highly recommend that you watch it to the end.

So. All that is unfolding, and I watch the video, and the football game begins, and we are typically losing... and then I hear that a woman was killed at the tailgate. It seems that some student (who was sober) lost control of a UHaul truck and crashed it into three women, killing one and injuring two others. Yet the festivities continued. I suppose I understand why they wanted to continue The Game, but it seems awfully callous. I don't know. What a tragedy for the family and friends of the woman killed and for the poor student, who will have to live with the consequences of his mistake for the rest of his life.

Oh, and then we lost the football game, 45-7. Oh well.

With all that, my sadness upon waking suddenly seemed rather justified.

In other (happier) news, a Toronto outlet will be selling the Etherea CD (now released in hard copy), which is still performing quite well. We got a really wonderful review in Opera News, also rather exciting. I did manage to learn the music I wanted to learn. Comrade MM made a wonderfully delicious Indian meal in which Ryan and I shared on Saturday night, full of various curries. I had originally planned to write my next post about Canada and Christmas, as Canadians seem to start celebrating awfully early, and indeed Ryan and I encountered their big Christmas parade today (Santa was there!), but it all seems a little trivial now. I will post pictures and thoughts at a later date, though.

In closing, I do highly encourage all of you to read about the UCD protests and to consider contacting the chancellor if you feel strongly about the situation, no matter where your loyalties lie. If you are interested in writing to her, here is a link to an online form: http://chancellor.ucdavis.edu/contact.php

Here are also some links to articles which I have found interesting or illuminating:

an article by a UCD professor on militarization of the police
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-ostertag/uc-davis-protest_b_1103039.html

an opinion editorial by UC Berkeley professor and poet laureate Robert Hass, who was beaten by the police
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/20/opinion/sunday/at-occupy-berkeley-beat-poets-has-new-meaning.html?ref=opinion

an interview with a student who was pepper sprayed at UCD
http://boingboing.net/2011/11/20/ucdeyetwitness.html

Encounters with the Pantheon in Downtown Toronto

So. It has been a really long time. I think a lot of things have happened, but I've been busy so I haven't noticed. Really, the most eventful moments have probably been in the kitchen. Oh, and the CD I released with Etherea that has been selling rather well. The digital release was on November 1st and it is available in hard-copy starting on Tuesday, the 15th. Currently we're 14 in the nation-wide "Billboard" charts and still number two (after falling from number one, which we held for a week) in the "traditional" new releases on iTunes. Ahead of Lang Lang and behind Hélene Grimaud.

Otherwise life is chugging along at its usual pace: lots of singing mixed in with some learning and then the boring "life" stuff. Halloween came and went; Ryan and I didn't do anything eventful (other than make dinner and help to hand out a little candy) because it fell on a Monday. November entered the picture and with it came the end of daylight savings. Now it is pitch dark by 5:30, which is a little sad. On the plus side we didn't get any of that pre-Halloween storm that blanketed the East Coast and the weather has been perhaps unseasonably warm. It might snow later in the week, but if it does it will probably just be a dusting. Otherwise I've been chipping away at learning La Calisto, thinking about technique, and working on some shorter assignments for school.

We have another ADP master class this Friday with the baritone Timothy Noble but luckily for me there is slightly less pressure as I'm not singing in the class itself, just in my coaching with him (we alternate, so all of us sing publicly in three classes but in private lessons for all six visiting master class artists, plus there are two extra classes this year, with Susan Graham and Ian Bostridge). I'm not sure what I'll be working on for Mr. Noble, but I've had Schubert on the brain of late so it may be some of that. My teacher recommended two songs of his to me: a short but beautiful one called "Florios Lied" (the only drawback being that about 45% of it sits on an F-natural, right in the passaggio...) and a 13-or-so minute long Blumenballade (or flower ballad) called "Viola." "Viola" is pretty awesome. It is somewhat like a giant version of the Goethe poem/Mozart Lied "Das Veilchen," but grafted onto a piano sonata or something like that. The poem (and song) alternates stanzas of storytelling with a refrain that, as one eventually realizes, rings with funeral knells for the dead violet. Per usual, the song is not so much about the different flowers of spring as it is about unrequited love. Poor Viola just gets too excited, stops paying any attention to anything but the coming of Spring, and then freezes to death. The music that falls between the refrain stanzas (there are a few strophes between each refrain) changes from strophe to strophe, with different textures and figurations in the piano reflecting the changing sentiments. It is rather nice. Highly recommend a listen.

So. I'm sure there are more things to talk about and think about, but for now I will segue to a photo essay, which will surely prompt memories...

Aha!

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far away, we made butternut squash ravioli for dinner. Ryan and Comrade J are working the assembly line:

I went to see Mlle P. in a ceremony at her school a few weeks ago because she was nominated for an award and her parents couldn't make it. Her school is French immersion, so it was interesting for me to witness both Canadian public education and also hear a little Ontario French. Here she is proudly displaying her certificate!

That Friday, after attending the ceremony, I went to the Royal Ontario Museum (we had the week off for a fall break/extra rehearsals). It is the subject of some controversy, as a prominent architect was hired to update the building and he wound up designing this "crystal" that juts out from the original facade. The museum is next door to the school and I happen to think that it looks very pretty from the outside, but I have to agree with some of the critics when I say that I'm not sure it does much for the interior. The museum is somewhat confusingly organized, with a collection that is very strong in some aspects but lacking in others. The crystal is made of big windows, as the name might suggest, but these are also blocked to prevent harmful light from damaging the collections. So, one winds up wandering amongst dinosaur skeletons in a sort of strangely white atmosphere. Not my favorite. There were some smaller collections of art of all sorts, including a few beautiful early pieces and some interesting folk art, as well as a large collection of Asian pottery. Some of the most interesting pieces of Asian work were the early "native" pottery examples, actually, not the beautifully-formed pots with jade-colored glaze. Perhaps unsurprisingly, early Chinese pottery looks a lot like Anasazi/pueblo work from the American Southwest.

One of my favorite pieces, however, was a wooden sculpture of the Virgin Mary standing with the infant Christ in a crescent moon. It struck me as oddly similar to the Artemis/Diana-Selene conflation that occurred in the post-Classical era...

The trees are less golden now than they appear here, but there are still leaves left on the branches:

Since then, I've clearly been busy with some interesting food.

On Halloween, I baked "Pane Francese," following a recipe from Mr. Hitz's book, to have with roasted vegetables and buckwheat groats:

One loaf is topped with poppy seeds and the other with sesame seeds.

I also must have made stir-fry of some sort involving zucchini, and then noticed how beautiful they are in cross-section!

Last Sunday I made a pie crust with a little whole wheat flour because apples were on sale at Economy Fruit. So, I made an apple pie augmented with some leftover Thanksgiving cranberry sauce and some almonds and oats.

Not pictured is the quiche I made later in the day with the remaining half of the pie crust. Talk about a fancy dinner! Quiche and pie! It was a good quiche. To make it less eggy, since Ryan doesn't really like eggs, I spiced it up with some garam masala. Yum!

The next night I decided I wanted to have some aioli, so I made it and lightly cooked some vegetables for dipping. It was reminiscent of some very good meals I had this summer at a friend's house! However, I was at a loss as to what I should do with the remaining egg whites. Until I decided to make French macarons: almond cookies, of course, with a raspberry-dark chocolate ganache. And they were pretty much divine. I highly recommend them. They are also apparently notoriously difficult to make but really behaved quite well. Not too tricky! I followed a recipe from Gourmet.com but made a few changes to their ganache.

Another picture, just for good measure:

A few days later I made my usual sojourn to Economy Fruit and picked up the following cornucopia-worthy items for only $6.50. The woman who works at the checkout might just actually be Demeter/Ceres. Seriously. Cere-ously.

The one drawback is that I have had to get very, very creative with the cabbage. Cabbage salad. Cabbage in couscous. Home-made falafel with cabbage. Andddd... that brings us to last night's dinner: minestrone soup.
I made vegetable stock by roasting vegetables and then made soup and bread in the evening. Here's the soup, bubbling away (before I added the cabbage):

And the bread, which was made following another recipe from Gourmet magazine involving bulgur wheat (and let me tell you... it is delicious!! I literally pulled one of the rolls out of the oven and ate it. The recipe made 12 medium-sized rolls and one medium-sized loaf):

And that, folks, is all for now. I need to spend some more time thinking about cabbage-filled recipes.

Thanksgivings

More busy days following each other, and falling faster than the leaves. It's hard to believe that it's past the middle of October. I actually wrote the first half of this post around the 12th or so, thinking I'd finish it a few days later, and here it is already the 23rd.

A few weekends ago was Thanksgiving, a seemingly less-entrenched holiday than in the States but with the same general traditions and customs: turkey, stuffing, lots of different vegetables in rich autumnal colors, and a cornucopia of desserts. What are missing are the less-savory features of American Thanksgiving: the crazy shopping day, the sports games on television, even less marketing of food... The Communists planned a big dinner with five other adults and another child, plus us and the three of them, so Comrade MM was busy in the kitchen for days. Because they can't have gluten she has been experimenting over the past weeks with different pie crusts and finally found a very delicious alternative. It doesn't behave quite like the crusts I'm used to (those have much more elastic dough, whereas this crumbles a bit), but it bakes beautifully and has a pleasing nutty color and taste. I made my favorite flourless chocolate torte (from The Joy of Pastry, an excellent book given to me by my Aunt Karen when I was in junior high and still in much use. And if you follow the link you can see that it is now rather inexpensive on Amazon! Get a copy for yourself!). I make a few changes to the recipe and I've included it below in case you're interested. It's simple, reliable, and really delicious. Comrade M got her free-range turkey from the Italian butchers down a few blocks on Bloor Street, Vince Gasparro's Meat Market (retail & wholesale!). I went there a few weeks ago when Ryan was out of town to buy a few sausages and had a great time chatting with them in Italian. Vegetables came from Economy Fruit and the grocery store, and table decorations were provided by Mlle P and myself. Comrade MM's old dog, Millie, (both elderly and no longer hers full-time) came to visit too. So, overall, the house was full of people, activity, and good food. The only bummer was that I was rather sick and had a fever and my nose was running like a champion marathoner.

The first vocal master class happened last Friday too, with John Mac Master. This was for the (generally) younger students in the Performance Diploma Program. I wasn't sure what to expect from him, having spent a while looking at his somewhat imposing photograph and redacting his rather thorough bio, but so thoroughly enjoyed hearing and watching him work with the other singers. He was very generous with his time and delightfully funny and self-effacing, but most importantly he was able to work very effectively with them on technique problems. Most voice master classes seem to skirt these issues for fear of stepping on the toes of their usual teachers or frightening the singers, but he chose to focus on the most basic element, breathing/support, and talk about it effectively and clearly. Despite going through about a roll of toilet paper for my running nose and running a fever (I did my best to sequester myself to a deserted section of chairs in the back row; we're required to attend all master classes and I thought it would be bad form to miss the first one) I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I went up to thank him afterward and was tickled to discover that even he had noticed: he told me he'd been hoping I would sing because he could see my face and it was very expressive. (Which hopefully also means that he couldn't hear me honking away...)

So that was Friday the 7th. The following Friday we had auditions for the spring opera, coincidentally Cavalli's La Calisto. For those of you who somehow managed to escape hearing me talking about this opera for an entire year while I was writing my senior essay, this is an amazing work that (in my opinion, at any rate) provides an insightful commentary on the state of moral decrepitude in Venice at the middle of the 17th century. I first heard/saw the opera in my junior year when I was taking Professor ER's class on Cavalli and was entranced by both the audaciousness of the libretto and the beauty of the score. That led to a term paper about the work, which I further developed into my senior essay, and the rest is history. Or something. Though if I get a DMA, just think: an entire real thesis about Cavalli/Faustini's mythologically-themed operas. Yes. So exciting. So anyway, we had auditions; I sang that incredible recitative/lament/recitative bit from the end of Il Giasone about being hacked into little pieces and hoped that the panel would glean from that my (perhaps unreasonably) undying love for Cavalli in general, and for La Calisto in particular.

And then it was a busy weekend of concerts (Gidon Kremer and his trio playing wacko Russian music by everyone's favorite, Gubaidulina, and Louis Lortie tickling the ivories throughout the entirety of Liszt's Années de pèlerinage). (Oh, and Lortie gave a masterclass on Friday as well. I went, and really learned a lot. I must confess that I'm not a big Liszt fan, but Lortie's discussion of voicing and color helped me to appreciate the music and the importance of Liszt as a composer and artist.)

And then all of that was followed by a busier week of classes (I sang in every single one, so lots of music to prepare), visitors (Ryan had a recital on Friday night and the composer of one of the pieces, Secrets of Antikythera, was staying with us), master classes (including one with Wendy Nielsen for the ADP voice students entailing individual coachings and then six of us singing in class, including me), recitals (Ryan's aforementioned), and trying not think about the audition results (which still hadn't been posted). The week came and went, I managed to prepare all of my music, I had an illuminating coaching with Wendy Nielsen (she's wonderful!), I made a lot of cookies for Ryan's recital, and finally it was Friday. There was only a minor disaster with the programs: misinformation had made it to the master class database and I'd prepared the wrong list. There were nine minutes to spare so a new set of programs were printed... good thing I was there... The master class was just as interesting as the coaching, and I was particularly impressed by Ms. Nielsen's ability to connect whatever technique point she was talking about with both the student singing and with the other students in attendance. Many of us have similar problems, of course, so she was able to help us fix the issues as we were working on them and also to use the other students with similar tendencies as further examples. Genius! Plus it's always incredibly gratifying to work with a teacher and feel like you're making progress, and to hear that progress so clearly exemplified by the other students as well. And in the middle of master class, right before I was supposed to sing, they posted the results of the opera auditions. And I'll be playing Calisto come March. I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity and still a little floored that I really, truly, actually get to sing this music.

Ryan's recital was wonderful and went off without a hitch, and then he and the composer left for the States, magnetic resonators in tow, and flew on an airline that gave him lots of free cookies and beer (Ryan was very happy). And he'll be down there for the rest of the week recording the piece and we have the week off at school so I'm going to maybe actually see a bit of Toronto, instead of just shuttling back between home and school.

And last night I saw Thomas Cooley (yay for Yale and people I know!) and Russell Braun sing beautifully in a concert of Mahler's Kindertotenlieder and Das Lied von der Erde. And this afternoon I'm going to see a concert of Zarzuela music performed by, among others, my Spanish teacher.

Oh, and I almost forgot: Ryan and I made lasagna from scratch this past Wednesday (Ryan made the pasta and I did the assembly) and it was really quite delicious. He has some pictures on his phone so I'll have to get them from him later.

Finally: the promised recipe for the flourless chocolate torte with candied ginger

Ingredients
1/4 c. butter
1 lb semisweet chocolate, in pieces
1/4 c. heavy cream
2 tsp vanilla
5 large eggs, separated
pinch o' salt
~1/2 c brown sugar (or a little less, depending on the chocolate. You can also use white sugar; I just prefer brown)
1/4 c ground hazelnuts
1/4 c finely chopped candied ginger
confectioner's sugar/cocoa powder for decoration, should you wish to use it

Directions

With the oven preheated to 350ºC, grease/flour a springform pan

Melt the butter and chocolate on a double boiler. When melted, remove from heat and add the cream and vanilla (and stir).

Beat the egg whites and salt until they form soft peaks, and then add the sugar and beat until the whites form stiff peaks.

Lightly beat the egg yolks and then fold them into the beaten egg whites. Don't over-mix. Then add the chocolate mixture and again stir gently. Add the hazelnuts and ginger. Don't stir too much! Don't let it deflate!

Pour it into the pan and bake for 30-40 minutes, or until it is set. Let it cool before you do anything with it. And if you feel like it, make a stencil and dust with the sugar/cocoa powder to make an interesting design. Or just eat it.

Mlle P dancing, with a maple-leaf flourless chocolate torte in the foreground (and an experimental pumpkin pie that was truly delicious and which we ate for breakfast on Thanksgiving).

Next time I'll have to post my cookie recipes. I've added a rather good peanut butter one to my repertoire.

Challah for the Holidays

(Challidays?)

More bread!

I guess I spent the past year focusing on the whole wheat bread recipe I published a few entries ago, because I had forgotten about the surprisingly successful challah recipe that appears in Mr. Ciril "I want to scare off your pants" Hitz' book a few pages later. I decided to make some last Sunday after realizing we were low on bread and out of whole wheat flour (and I was too cold to go outside in the rain and chill to get some more) and despite killing the initial yeast in the sponge, having to add more, and letting it rise for far longer than suggested, it turned out rather delicious! Slightly more dense than the cotton-candyesque challah one can find, but still delicious and fluffy. So that's all to say that Mr. Hitz really won't fail you this time. And you don't have to have a weird steaming tray in your oven.

One begins with a sponge.
Combine:
1 1/3 c flour
1/2 c 75ºF water
~6 tsp instant yeast

Mix it up and allow it to sit, covered and undisturbed, for a half hour.

At this point it might be good to set out the following ingredients so that everything is ready to go.

Anyway, after a half hour, combine the following:
The sponge
3 2/3 c flour
1/3 c sugar (I always use brown sugar)
2 tsp salt
2 tbsp honey
2 tbsp 70º water (have more on the ready)
3 whole eggs
2 egg yolks
4 tbsp oil (he calls for vegetable oil, I used olive oil)

Mix it up for a while. He says eight minutes on low speed with your dough hook and another 8 on a faster speed. I used my hands and had to add some extra water and was confused because the yeast wasn't working very well.

Anyway, after it's nicely mixed up, make sure your bowl is coated with a little oil and allow it to rise for 1.25 hours, or until doubled in size. If your yeast was dead like mine, you can always mix up some more instant yeast in some water, add it, and allow it to sit some more. Apparently this is forgiving bread.

After it has doubled, separate the dough into some smaller balls and let them rest for 20 minutes or so. Then, roll them into strands and braid them together. Be creative! Make it look pretty! Have fun! I've made this recipe a few times and have found that I tend to make a very large but compact loaf. I bet that it would work even better, though, and perhaps be lighter and fluffier, if it were slightly more spread. I'll try that next time. Or perhaps some smaller rolls... it makes a lot of bread...

Let it rest for another hour at room temperature, until it doubles again in size. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Before you put it in the oven, brush the loaf with a mixture of the egg whites and some milk and sprinkle with salt/sesame seeds/poppy seeds/other fun and delicious things.

And bake it until it looks pretty brown and puffy. It will probably be 20 to 30 minutes depending on the size of the loaf.

And there you go! It should emerge beautiful and resplendent and bedecked with little sesame seeds or poppy seeds or whatever you decided to put on top.

Just beware: it makes a lot of bread. See the pictures? Ryan and I haven't finished this loaf yet and I made it five days ago. If you're a single person, and particularly a single person who isn't carbo-loading for a marathon, you may want to halve the recipe. Or think of other uses... I KNOW! I need to make French toast!!! Just in time for Canadian Thanksgiving.

In other news, I have succumbed to the same cold that has had Comrade J in and out of bed for the past week it seems (perhaps not that long? but he has been rather ill). I'm trying to fight it off with goldenseal, spirulina, zinc, sage tea, and mental fortitude. However, my nose may have the better of me. We shall see!

And, in closing, an evil basement centipede (medium-sized):

(they get much larger)

To Famous People: where are your short bios?

A short introductory note:

As part of my job, I compile biographies for the various visiting artists. These are used on our website (150 words) and also in our programs (we have about a page of space). I assumed that this would entail pulling said biographies off of the webpages of said famous visiting artists. But, surprisingly, not one of them had a short form biography! And I'm talking about seriously famous people. What gives?

So with that, read on...

HELLO MUSICIAN FRIENDS,

I write you this blog post to PLEAD that you follow the advice of every single person I've ever heard talk about self-promotion and actually include a short bio on your website.

Now, if you're like me and have commitment fears and don't actually have a website then I guess you can pass for now. Though you should have a short bio rattling around on your computer somewhere... But if you're a famous person--say, one of the many famous people coming to our school to do master classes--PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE tell me where you're hiding your short-form bio!

The funny thing is, I know you all know you're supposed to have a short bio. People are always asking me for short bios. They need something small to fit in the CD jacket (that's right! forthcoming Etherea Christmas CD! to be reviewed in Opera News just in time for the holidays! More on that later in October, when it's actually released). They don't actually care about you that much. They want to have the wham and bang and recent stuff and they won't actually read about the past. So I know you're all writing them. I know they're somewhere. I know someone is using them. Why the heck aren't they on your website?

Yes, it's always really nice to know a lot of things about you, Mr./Miss/Ms./Mrs. famous musician. In fact, those personal details can really flesh you out as an individual and make me want to support you and enjoy your music even more. Though, Real Live Famous Person, that might not include your Maine Coon cat. I'm sure he's cute and fuzzy, and I like cats a whole lot, but even I think it's a little weird that he appears in your bio. But, for heaven's sake, when someone like me is writing a bio that will appear in your program for a public master class that you're teaching at a well-known school, I might just edit it down to a size so that only the part about your cat remains. I have that 150 word limit for the website, or that page limit for the program, and if you don't edit it down to a manageable size... who will? I can't include another page just to list the concert halls you appeared in on tour, unfortunately. The budget doesn't allow it! The trees are screaming in protest! And so poor hapless Lucy has to sit there with the delete key and try to figure out what actually matters. For some instruments that's easy, but sometimes (here's looking at you, wacky percussion/brass/harp players) I can't figure out what's what. And I might just take out that one detail that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Like your cat.

So do us all a favor: include a short bio on your website! And if the cat's really important, put him in your picture like these stellar examples:

Simon Carrington

John Cage

(actually he has two)

Frank Zappa

Even David Bowie!

And Bob Dylan!