Scrapbook

School days

2011-09-27T07:12:00.000-04:00

Boy-howdy! So summer gave way to a far brisker (and rainier) autumn, and my Graduate Experience is well under way. How's it going? Well, very well, in fact. I earnestly enjoy my peers, teachers and classes. I feel welcomed; I am impressed with the talent around me. But I'm also still vaguely terrified: that I'm behind, that I don't quite know what's going on, etc...

Taking advantage of beautiful September mornings (with nary a snow flake in sight - I'm looking at you, Winter Term), I've been walking the half hour or so to school.

It goes with the territory, but it's not particularly helpful. I finish my days exhausted, and I realize this is partially from the tension of trying so damn hard. Working diligently is one thing; over-stressing is quite another. I've decided, therefore, that part of my work as a Very Studious Wonderfully Adult Artist In Training is also to depend on myself for praise as well as critique, and to jump off the assumption that I am perfectly impressive and talented enough, thank-you-very-much.

Meanwhile, I am certainly settling into a nice rhythm in Ann Arbor:

My newly-claimed library carrel. Yes, I am quite proud of my little bit of [borrowed] property.

Why, yes, that is Jessye Norman, peering pensively at music before her masterclass.

I'll be holding on to the last vestiges of summer with a lovely bunch of tomatoes that I've happily pickled.

François Delarozière speaks for Penny Stamps

2011-09-23T07:50:00.000-04:00

The Penny Stamps series brings a large array of artists to give talks at U of M. It is part of the the School of Art and Design, but the free lectures are also open to the public. Yesterday's speaker in the Michigan Theater was François Delarozière, the artistic director of La Machine, a French theater troupe of craftsmen, performers and dreamers who create mechanical creatures and structures. These gargantuan constructions are breath-taking: Jules Vernesque visions of the future filled with kindly, automatonic monsters. It was truly inspirational to see the sketches and some of the work that goes into planning and constructing the machines, wholly unpractical and absolutely magical. But the most amazing element was how much a 37-ton hydraulic spider comes to life as it begins to move. Presumably because of a mixture of anthropomorphism and awe of discovery we seldom have past childhood, it was downright moving to see these steel and wood animals walking through the streets. As Delarozière stated, they are alive to us, because motion is life.

La Machine built a spider that "lived" in Liverpool in 2008.

Liverpool poster, via lamachine.co.uk.

An uncommon elephant in Nantes, via Liverpool 360º.

Delarozière will also be speaking tonight at the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit at seven o'clock, for anybody who is local. I highly recommend it!

Musical week-end

2011-09-19T19:43:00.000-04:00

This week-end kicked off the Ann Arbor-based University Musical Society's season, which meant, in conjunction with a Gershwin concert on Friday afternoon and a masterclass with Jessye Norman, a very full musical couple of days for me indeed. (Ah, my life is difficult...)

Ahmad Jamal, via allaboutjazz.

Ahmad Jamal, jazz piano legend, set the right mood and then some on Saturday night. The group, composed of Jamal, Herlin Riley (drums), James Cammack (bass) and Manolo Badrena, filled Hill Auditorium with an electrifying energy. The four men on stage had terrific interplay, and the charisma exuded by Jamal as he played had us enthralled. What a show this 81-year-old can put on! I needed no push to stand and cheer, demanding an encore with the rest of the audience (the foursome obliged), and I left the hall buoyed by my evening.

via Friends of Chamber Music

I didn't have long to wait for another concert, as the Emerson Quartet was on the following afternoon in Rackham Auditorium performing Mozart's last three string quartets (K. 575, K. 589, K. 590), as well as his Adagio and Fugue in c minor (K. 546). There was admittedly a bit of a kerfuffle getting us all into our seats (I pity the ushers who had to maneuver a full house in the newly renumbered system!), but I doubt this is what the audience took away from the concert. The first quartet initially lacked some vigor and articulation for my taste, but the Emersons came into their own for the third movement minuet. In fact, I discovered a previously undiscovered predisposition for minuets in myself yesterday!

So I got little work done this week-end (remember, my life is difficult), but I would say it was well worth it to get to experience such an array of musical talent. I'm certainly looking forward to the continuation of my cultural endeavors in Ann Arbor - Mark Morris Dance Group this week-end at Power Center.

Labor Day week-end

2011-09-05T18:31:00.002-04:00

Joe came to visit me for this last, long week-end before classes begin. Apart from the obvious merit of simply seeing each other, it was a chance for him to discover my new environs, and a chance for me to get some help setting up my new apartment. We ate copiously; we explored. We stocked up on wine. We watched Daria. We set up my internet. All in all, a highly successful goodbye to summer.

Some loot from Saturday's farmer's market excursion.

Saturday night thunder storm.

Walking the Nichols Arboretum.

Apple season is soon upon us...

Rosemary Tom Collins.

Buttermilk biscuit and sorghum syrup from Zingerman's (again).

Parking lot shenanigans.

Dancing with Lanvin

2011-08-30T15:36:00.004-04:00

via The Fashion Spot

Raquel Zimmerman, Karen Elson, Lowell Tautchin and Milo Spijkers (and, briefly, Alber Elbaz) put on their [expensive] dancing shoes for the video accompaniment to Lanvin's Autumn 2011 add campaign.

Hello Ann Arbor!

2011-08-28T16:32:00.001-04:00

It was quite a happy coincidence that I booked my flight to Michigan for yesterday morning, as I made it out of the East Coast Imbroglio in the nick of time. (Although it seems Joe & Roommates are having a grand old time cooped up in Brooklyn having Hurricane Brunch - if I were there, they would have a fourth for Spades...)

Coffee toast to my new surroundings.

And so, friends, after several days of packing and fretting I have moved. I kicked off my first day as a Midwesterner with a brunch at Zingerman's Roadhouse (Oh sour cherry preserves!). I still have a good deal to do to move myself into my new digs, but I'm here and ready to start this adventure!

River Bend Farm

2011-08-23T19:39:00.000-04:00

Our Massachusetts week-end came to to a close yesterday morning with a walk along the Blackstone River from River Bend Farm in Uxbridge. And what a perfect late summer day it was for a stroll, too!

Contemplating the river.

Turtle!

A good deal of mushrooms are cropping up in the wooded areas. I wish I hadn't lost my handy mushroom field guide (I had a phase).

Blue sky; bit of moon.

Canal lock; the "liquid carpet" effect of growth on the water.

Saying goodbye: Brooklyn from the Brooklyn Bridge

2011-08-20T17:26:00.004-04:00

As part of my continuing efforts to revisit my favorite places before leaving them for a while, I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan a couple of days ago. My upcoming departure has become the perfect pretext to enjoy some of the more amazing aspects of New York (and Boston this week-end).

Starting off from the Brooklyn side of affairs. I can't help but get the wind kicked out of me when I see this incredible construction. Thank you, Ken Burns.

Looking forward to Manhattan (hello Statue of Liberty!)...

... and backward to Brooklyn.

Saying goodbye: Manhattan from the High Line

2011-08-18T11:16:00.000-04:00

I'm deep in nostalgia mode as I prepare to ship off to the midwest. Last night I picked up Joe after work and we walked down the West Side from Columbus Circle. Walking the High Line seemed greatly appropriate. We've been enjoying this park since it opened - the various phases of its building and growing progress throughout the seasons. On a sunny evening like yesterday, it offered stunning views of Manhattan, New Jersey and the river.

In the sunset light...

... and against it.

Both of us share a fascination with the buildings of Manhattan, and the seemingly endless stretches of the its urban grid.

Things brewing

2011-08-16T21:16:00.001-04:00

Today was quite probably my last lesson in New York before I move to Ann Arbor for my first term at the University of Michigan's School of Music. I bought a one-way plane ticket for Detroit this afternoon - what an odd feeling to think that I am leaving my beloved east coast! But, as melancholy as I am to leave my haunts and loved ones (and anxious at the prospect of packing up my too-numerous books), I am tremendously excited to start my new, midwestern adventure.

The clouds, too, were brewing up something on the Upper West Side.

Much of my excitement stems from the work I've done this past year: I am proud of my progress, and of how I used my "gap year." I'm ready to meet new people and test out my independent efforts. The summer gave me a taste of this, and I have written a list of goals for myself that build on my experience in California. I want to make good use of those around me, and be open to be put to good use myself. It is a particular pleasure to realize that you are an important and supportive member of your group! Onward to new projects!

Summer food

2011-08-13T20:14:00.004-04:00

Eating in summertime is an occasion to be fêted, as beautiful fruits and vegetables abound. Here are some hot hits of the past week.

Arugula with soy beans, spiced almonds and raspberries.

Muffin and 1989 National Geographic at Commune.

Cured chickpea salad; chicken sandwich.

I consume the muffin; Joe consumes an article on the USSR.

Fried sardines.

Joe demonstrates the tomato salad, may or may not be posing for a mug shot.

Claude François on a Thursday morning

2011-08-11T11:06:00.001-04:00

Dance a bit to get you to the week-end!

Things to do on trips

2011-08-08T11:35:00.001-04:00

At nearly three this morning, I finally arrived from a very long day of airports and airplanes. I've spent a lot of time in transit for the past year: audition flights in the winter, near-weekly trips between New York and Boston, and my hour commutes from Brooklyn to the Upper West Side. What do I do to fill the time so that a) I don't lose my mind to boredom and b) I don't feel that my life is slipping between my fingers in the form of recycled air?

1) I read. This is easiest on the subway, especially if I can sit down, as I sometimes get motion sickness on busses or above-ground trains. When you look around a typical subway car, it's obvious that I'm not the only one who's adopted this method of entertainment. I even enjoy my commutes when they're not at peak hours, because I'm able to have a focused, timed reading session.

2) I learn, memorize and review music. I don't always particularly enjoy this. But "silent practicing" is something that demands a good deal of my time, so if I can fit it into a boring bus trip to pass the time, I feel that I'm killing two birds with one stone.

3) I knit or cross-stitch. (This is very Domestic Young Lady of me.) I don't always have room to bring along supplies, but it's a good alternative to more thinking-heavy distractions.

4) I listen to podcasts. Radiolab and This American Life are favorites, but I also listen to Rachel Maddow, NPR Culturetopedia, Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! and Ted Talks.

5) I cut out pictures. Collages are a favorite of mine, and I've been heartlessly cutting apart magazines for years. So, assuming I have space in my bag and at my seat, and that scissors aren't forbidden, you can find me happily snipping away.

6) I do crosswords. Ah, Will Shortz, you have kept me company on many an excursion!

Horse show

2011-08-06T12:21:00.000-04:00

I used to be an adamant equestrian, but I quit many years ago. However, horses and riding still make me dream, so when I saw that the Pebble Beach Equestrian Classic was going on this week-end, I knew I had to visit. Plus, it was Joe's first horse show, so I had a chance to introduce him to the world of jackets and jodhpurs.

A constant of barns and shows is always a panoply of dogs.

Practice ring.

Tacking up.

Meanwhile, I also took the opportunity to check in with a friend - my one-time pony Trooper, who is now an old fellow, but still just as friendly as he always was. My lovely old companion still recognizes me!

Going in for a nuzzle.

Lamb and cherry stew

2011-08-05T00:17:00.009-04:00

Sunday was our last performance of L'Étoile, and it was a wonderful way to cap off this first summer season. Now that I'm on vacation, I've been playing tourist with Joseph, on visit from Brooklyn, and eating up a storm in restaurants. Tonight, however, I decided to cook.

Lamb stew, with roasted potatoes and zucchini.

Lamb and cherry stew

(serves 4-6)

2 lbs lamb - various cuts, with a few bones for stewing

olive oil

1 large onion

4 cloves garlic

1 8 oz. can tomatoes

2 handfuls fresh sweet red cherries, pitted and halved

2 bay leaves

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1 tsp cayenne pepper

1/2 tbsp turmeric

1 tsp tsp cumin

1/4 cup red (sweet) vermouth

salt, to taste

Remove as much fat as possible from the lamb and cut the meat into pieces. Heat olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan with lid or Dutch oven; pat the meat dry and sear on high heat for a few minutes. Add the onion cut into thin strips and the minced garlic.

Reduce the heat to a medium. Add the tomatoes and halved cherries. Add the herbs, spices and salt, as well as the vermouth. Once the mixture begins to simmer, reduce the heat further to low. Cover the pan and let the stew cook for 1 hour, until the meat falls away from the bone and be split with a fork. Adjust salt to taste. If you've started your stew early in the day as I did, you can let it sit, then reheat it gently before eating (this is a good way to make sure the flavors settle). Remove the bay leaves before serving.

And for dessert, honey-rosemary crème Saint-Honoré with nectarines and blueberries, almonds, Cointreau and rum sauce. Now we sit, round and tired, digesting while watching Hitchcock's Suspicion.

For the love of dachshunds

2011-07-27T12:12:00.008-04:00

"Cave dog," via Terry Pond.

I've never been a dog owner, and I can't foresee myself becoming one, but I have grown to be quite crazy for dachshunds. When I see one trotting along a sidewalk I can't help but melt a little bit inside. So noble! They just look so good natured with their tiny little legs and their long, curious noses welcoming the world!

Dachshunds in the art world, via This Isn't Happiness.

Running specimens, via A Place To Love Dogs.

L'Étoile and Little Women come to fruition

2011-07-24T10:58:00.002-04:00

After four plus weeks of rehearsals at the Opera Academy of California, both L'Étoile and Little Women opened at the end of this week. L'Étoile, an opéra comique by Emmanuel Chabrier, has naturally been heavily on my mind, as its rehearsals have been an integral part of my daily routine. Yet as much time as I have spent with it, Thursday night's première, which I did not sing, offered me the first opportunity to watch the show in its entirety. I was able to realize how decadent and funny the opera is, in no small part thanks to our director Yefim Maizel's exuberant and detailed staging. His insistence on our doing gestures precisely resulted in a continuous and logical thread of motion; all of the starting and stopping in rehearsals came into focus when I was able to see the finished product. With simple props and furniture, the stage became lush. Our limited numbers (and budget!) did not impede his cohesive vision.

King Ouf in disguise in L'Étoile.

Maizel has been crucial in shepherding us into our larger-than-life characters (not least of all because he has the ungrateful job of taking charge of the summer program as a whole), but he was not alone. In rehearsals, our conductor David Sloss and pianist John Ballerino, had the patience to lead a wily troupe of singers through the treacherous phrases of French operetta, along with Marcie Stapp, our language and diction coach. As French is my mother tongue, I have an unfair advantage, but I do recognize how difficult it can be to navigate the clipped, wordy and extremely idiomatic texts, as well as the musical gestures that accompany them. And my cohorts largely have risen to the occasion, producing clear pronunciation and intent. I cannot speak for everyone else, but after the trials and tribulations of rehearsals, piecing together numbers and dialogues, I am excited to perform the show when I arrive at the theater, excited to bring this wonderfully weird world to life: a buffoon king, a young princess, a lovesick pedlar, etc... that manage, for all of their over-the-top hijinks to be earnest and likable characters. Watching the opera on Thursday night from the audience made me look forward to my own Saturday début all the more.

Act II opens with feather fans and the adulation of court ladies.

As we have been preparing L'Étoile in one side of the building, Mark Adamo's 1998 opera Little Women has been rehearsing in the other. I've not had any part in the creation process, so I watched the opening on Friday night, as well as last night's cast, purely as an audience member. As with last week's Idomeneo, I was amazed at the preparation and polish of the endeavor. The singers have tackled music that can be vocally challenging with gusto, no doubt aided by Maestro Jun Nakabayashi's supportive and encouraging conducting. The straightforward, human, element that Nakabayashi has culled in his treatment of the score, director David Cox has found in his approach to the staging. Once again, the means are meager, but he has created in a small, dark theater a warm setting for the March family. He has masterfully ensured that the scenes in which multiple conversations overlap are clear but connected. And he has charged his actors with bringing the characters to life without artifice, a challenge that my fellow singers have met beautifully.

Beth's moving death scene in Little Women.

I watched and took part in this weekend's shows with a sense of pride and accomplishment. The witty, uproarious Étoile and heartfelt Little Women were good complements to each other, and, judging from the enthusiastic applause, both appealed to the impressed audience. For those of you in the San Francisco area, I highly recommend catching both shows: Little Women closes tonight at Fort Mason Center's Southside Theatre at 7.30; L'Étoile plays in the Northside Theatre this afternoon at 2.30, as well as the next Friday (7.30), Saturday (7.30) and Sunday (2.30).

Just Kids

2011-07-20T13:59:00.002-04:00

I finally read Patti Smith's Just Kids last week after lugging it around with me from New York to Boston, and finally San Francisco, for a good many months. (But I am often like this, as I navigate a long list of reading material.) It was a great read, both entertaining and touching. Smith beautifully paints her world, a fascinating time filled with fascinating people.

via two kitties

In the midst of scurrying in and out of long rehearsals, I found welcome inspiration in Just Kids. A career in music grows more and more tangible for me every year, and I enjoy the work that goes in to preparing performance - practicing, research, rehearsals - increasingly. So I loved reading about Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe's dedication to art, even more so because they did not necessarily have a clear view of how their careers would take shape. Both tried their hands in numerous media: Smith's transition into music through visual art, poetry, theater, etc... seems both random and fated to readers who know and love her albums. Their vision was broad, but simultaneously certain. This is often how the most fulfilling and fruitful careers evolve: focus and determination coupled with openness and happenstance.

via pattismith.net

And how the book made me homesick for New York!

Simple summer pasta salad

2011-07-17T21:47:00.008-04:00

After two and a half days of soup and raw garlic (wonderful when one has a cold, tiresome on the senses very quickly), I was more than ready to move on to a solid dinner. So, while preparing my meals-in-mason jars for tomorrow in rehearsals, I also whipped a quick pasta salad to enjoy on the porch.

Zucchini and chickpeas in jars.

Summer pasta salad

(serves 2)

1 cup [whole wheat] pasta, dry

3 large, ripe tomatoes

1/2 Haas avocado

extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar

salt, fresh-ground pepper

3 to 5 leaves fresh basil

Instructions are hardly needed: Boil pasta as directed. Drain the cooked pasta and toss with olive oil in a bowl to let cool. Chop coarsely the tomatoes and the avocado. Toss all of the components together with more olive oil as necessary, a dash of balsamic, salt and pepper to taste. Finely chop the basil and add to the salad before serving.

Sick day

2011-07-15T19:07:00.004-04:00

We're in the most tiring stretch of the program: the final rehearsals, and the openings, of our three productions. Last night was the opening night of Idomeneo; next week Little Women and L'Étoile kick off. These are busy times!

I watched the Idomeneo production with a great deal of admiration and pride - I was rather amazed at what they were able to create with few people, few means and little time. But by the second act I could also feel something far less pleasant brewing as my nose began to run. I was coming down with a head cold.

via cuteoverload

I was was granted permission to miss today's rehearsal run and instead stay at home. The woman with whom I am doubled graciously filled in for me, and I've been staying in bed sleeping and reading The Imperfectionists. Fittingly, my character has a short aria about sneezing, so let's pretend I'm working on my interpretation. Friends, I am quite determined to be in fighting shape within a few days as we head into dress rehearsals!

Count Basie in the morning

2011-07-07T09:38:00.002-04:00

Starting off what is sure to be a long day (two sets of scene dress rehearsals) with some Count Basie as I pack costumes and meals.

Rosemary olive oil cake, pastry cream and peaches

2011-07-04T21:06:00.000-04:00

Considering this is the second olive oil-based cake I present to you, it's evident that I have a real weakness for them... and that I often don't have butter on hand. (I highly encourage you to try this cake, too.) In this version, I've opted to add whole wheat flour and almond meal to the mix, and to top it all off with bourbon-flavored crème patissière and peaches.

Whole wheat rosemary olive oil cake

(adapted from 101 Cookbooks)

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cups almond meal

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

3/4 tsp kosher salt

3 eggs

1 cup olive oil

1 cup milk (preferably whole)

1/4 tsp almond extract

1 tbsp finely chopped fresh rosemary

Place your rack in the middle of the oven; preheat it to 350ºF. Grease a 9-inch-diameter cake pan or 9x5-inch loaf pan. (I used a glass dish, as no cake pans were to be found.)

Sift the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Some of the whole-wheat flour and almond meal will not go through the sieve; throw them back into the bowl.

In another bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk and olive oil, along with the almond extract and rosemary. Gently fold the liquid ingredients into the dry ones. Pour into the prepared pan.

Bake for 40 minutes, or until a test toothpick comes out clean. Let cool 5 to 10 minutes before unmoulding.

Meanwhile, make a small batch of pastry cream...

Crème patissière with bourbon

1 cup whole milk

2 eggs

1/3 cup sugar (or 1/2 cup if you have a sweeter tooth than I)

2 tbsp flour

2 tbsp bourbon

Bring the milk to a simmer at medium low heat in a heavy-bottomed pot. Beat the two eggs in a mixing bowl with the sugar and flour. Pour the simmering milk little by little into the egg mixture while continue to whisk (lest the eggs cook in clumps!). Pour the entire mixture back into the pot, add the bourbon and cook to thicken at medium low heat, stirring continuously. Once thickened, let the cream cool and refrigerate.

The cooled crème patissière and peach slices.

Peal and slice three ripe peaches. You can choose to add sugar, but my specimens were plenty sweet on their own (ah! summer! what a season!). Serve the cake at room temperature with the cooled cream. I opted to assemble everything together, spreading the pastry cream over the cake and adding the peach slices to the top.

Having improvised on the bake ware front (and having no serving plate of the appropriate size) , I decided not to unmould my cake.

The cake, refrigerated and covered, will keep about 2 days.

Breakfast

2011-07-01T10:33:00.000-04:00

I love breakfast, and I always have. In part it's because I've always been a morning person, and a hungry morning person at that. When I was little, I relished this early meal because it meant I could eat anything I wanted: leftovers from the night before, soft-boiled eggs in hotel rooms, thick wedges of camembert... I've always been able to digest just about anything at any early hour. (I also had a period of ostrich-meat cheeseburgers.) When I first went out for an American breakfast, I was amazed and overjoyed to discover that my penchant for large, hot plates of starch, fat and protein was not so odd after all.

As evidenced by the great big world of websites around me, I'm certainly not the only one who's obsessed. I stare hungrily at the offerings of BKFST, xo breakfast, breakfast for dinner and simply breakfast, to name a few. Issue no. 3 of The Gentlewoman had a small feature on how several women start their mornings. It's no wonder that breakfast is so important to people - apart from physical nourishment, it's the ritual that starts off our day. It says a lot about us as people. For my part, I continue to favor substantial, eclectic breakfasts with a mix of savory and sweet.

Summer breakfast: yoghurt with honey, toasted pain de campagne, nectarine.

An outside post and a song to start off the day

2011-06-28T10:30:00.001-04:00

Two short things this morn: 1) I wrote a guest post on my mother's blog about the experience of being in a startup music program.

2) I can't help dancing when this song begins to play - it's certainly a good way to wake up a body that's still tired from the previous night's rehearsal. Dear readers, do you listen to music when you get ready in the morning? What do you choose?

Language in two masterclasses

2011-06-27T10:31:00.001-04:00

The masterclasses keep coming! This week we had two additional classes, each dealing with text and language.

On Thursday, Erie Mills gave class at Old First Church to some of our Little Women cast members with a focus on [American] English diction and, more accurately, phrasing. Far from spending hours nitpicking at vowels and consonants, she urged the performers to sing their text, not as a series of syllables, but as full phrases, concentrating on prosody. This is the same work that we must do in a general musical sense: seeing beyond the collection of individual notes to the phrases they make up. The former instance turns syllables into sentences; the latter pitches into melodies. In both cases, the result is actual meaning.

Looking for fluidity and strength.

Her insistence that the singers approach their pieces naturally and organically extended to the technical issues she addressed as well. Mills urged them to use their entire bodies to support their sound, thinking of a breath's trajectory as going beyond just mouth to lungs and back. Her approach was both energetic and relaxed as she reminded the performers to pace themselves and not to attempt super-human feats: "Remember you love to sing." "Human beings breathe. It's okay."

This emphasis on "humanness" in singing is one I take fully to heart. Yes, we are training ourselves to do extraordinary things with a body part that most people take for granted. But we must also remember that our voices are natural extensions of ourselves after all. Why not approach them in singing, both physically and psychologically, more like we do in familiar, spoken territory?

French vowels.

Marcie Stapp's class on Saturday night in the Southside Theater at Fort Mason dealt with more of the nitty gritty aspects of languages. She tackled major themes of diction in Italian, German and French, each language represented by two performers. But although the focus was on very specific pronunciation questions, Stapp's aim was very similar to Mills': making the text come out, naturally, easily and with the character of its language in mind. The adjustments she made to the singers' approach to sounds were not meant to add more rigid rules to the task of singing, but rather to make singing less difficult. As in Mills' class, the ultimate goal was to communicate humanly, and to do so with as little interference as possible.

Saturday on the marina

2011-06-26T10:11:00.000-04:00

As I had three hours free in my schedule today, I met up with my mother, and we walked from Fort Mason along the marina to take advantage of the fine weather. I proceeded to take pictures of boats with dutiful observance of my family's seafaring history. (Most of us modern generations, I must admit, have long embraced dryer occupations, but we still feel a connection to the ocean.)

Well hello, Bridge!

We rounded back and came to A16 as it was opening, nabbing two walk-up seats for an early dinner before I had to go back for a masterclass.

Beautifully cooked rabbit with wild fennel for my mother.

Monterey squid and halibut over zucchini and eggplant, roasted sunchokes for me.

Back to Fort Mason Center, with one last look at the sea before going into the theater.

Friday night Off the Grid

2011-06-25T10:47:00.000-04:00

Every Friday night from five to ten, the parking lot of the Fort Mason Center, where I spend the bulk of my days in rehearsal, is overtaken by food trucks and tents and the hungry patrons that frequent them. So yesterday, during my break before evening rehearsals, I went down to explore the music and commotion a bit.

Flowers at Prada Menswear sping 2012

2011-06-23T11:05:00.001-04:00

Fancy floral trousers in summer? Prada's spring 2012 menswear collection may be your [expensive] ticket!

19 June, Milan. via Style.com

Masterclass with Sheri Greenawald

2011-06-22T10:50:00.006-04:00

Last night was the first of OAC's masterclass series at Old First Church, and I had the opportunity and great pleasure of singing for Sheri Greenawald. This was my first time doing so, but I had seen her work with others before in San Francisco and Boston, so I had some idea what to expect. As always, Greenawald was detail-driven and supportive, and a riot to watch.

While she did address a few technical concerns as they came up, Greenawald concentrated the bulk of her efforts on reshaping our interpretations. She fastidiously focused our visions of the scene for our arias, our emotional arc as dictated by the text and the music. Especially in the context of a masterclass, where time is limited, reshaping the interpretative form of a piece can work miracles in transforming the performance, so much so that the singing often improves too. More often than not, this task is about honing on the specifics of drama (or comedy, as the case may be), and I find it invaluable to have a pair of experienced eyes to give me a fresh take. Ms. Greenawald, through her work both on and off the stage, certainly fits the bill!

Hatem Nadim, who dutifully braved The Rake's Progress and Roméo et Juliette alike.

I'm a great fan of masterclasses, both as a performer and as an audience member. Their quality, of course, relies largely on the personality and strength of the master teacher, and on the students' ability to implement new ideas quickly. Even the best masterclasses can feel long, as they can clock in at around three hours, often without intermission. But they are quite valuable, and not only for the musicians directly concerned. Most non-musicians I've invited to watch have found it fascinating to witness a piece evolve before their eyes. People with no particular connection to or interest in opera have said that they understand better the appeal of the art form because they've seen what goes into creating a skilled vocal interpretation. I encourage everyone to attend a masterclass!

Adventures in the dunes

2011-06-18T19:02:00.006-04:00

This morning we took a long, adventurous walk in the forest and along the shore in Pebble Beach. Two and half hours later we returned exhausted and fully ready for a lunch by the ocean at Schooner's in Monterey. Let us look back on this périple:

Resting in the forest along Spyglass Hill Golf Course. (Check out my Del Monte Kennel Club Dog Show sweatshirt!)

After a fair amount of to and fro in the woods, we hit the dunes.

Rubber boots do not sand-walking shoes make.

"Maman! Smile for the camera!"

Approaching the shore...

... seemed to take a great deal of time.

Seared chicken breast, sautéed zucchini with olives

2011-06-17T22:28:00.006-04:00

Driving South.

My mother and I met up at San Francisco International, both landing at approximately the same time (she was coming back from France, so she definitely had me beat on the jet lag front). As I'm free until Sunday we drove down to Pebble Beach this afternoon for a short week-end at the sea. I'm certainly looking forward to a few walks by the beach, and slipping back into my familiar role as house cook.

Simple seared spicy chicken breast with rosemary

(serves 2-3)

2 large chicken breasts, halved length-wise

appr. 1 tsp nutmeg

appr. 1 tsp red pepper flakes

2 big sprigs rosemary

large sea salt, to taste

1/2 cup white wine, chicken stock or water

Rub the nutmeg into the pieces of chicken, and place them in a heated cast-iron skillet (preferably) with olive oil on high flame. Let sear about five minutes, until one side is browned a good deal. Add salt, red pepper and half the rosemary. Flip the chicken and let sear the second side.

Add the rest of the rosemary, and more salt as necessary. Add the wine, stock or water and cover loosely with a lid. Lower the heat to medium. Let the chicken cook until done through, approximately five to ten minutes. Let rest a few minutes before serving.

As the chicken is cooking (err... burning under supervision), let's get going on the zucchini:

Sautéed zucchini with olives

(serves 2)

3 small zucchini

3 medium cloves of garlic (or 2 if you're not so garlic happy as we are), minced

5-6 Kalamata olives in brine, minced

salt, to taste

The ingredient list is really for the sake of formatting - here are the less than abundant requirements.

Heat olive oil in a skillet over high flame. Slice the zucchini and add them to the pan.

Let the slices brown, about ten minutes. Add salt (not too much, as the olives are already quite salty themselves), the olives and garlic. Lower heat to medium and let cook five minutes more.

The finished zucchini await their chicken companions on a plate.

Off to San Francisco

2011-06-16T11:13:00.001-04:00

As of this picture, I had yet to fit my various sweaters and cardigans. Oi...

My bags are packed. The laundry and dishes are clean; the rubbish taken out (I forgot to do this before a two-month trip once, which resulted in a rather unwelcome homecoming surprise). Presently I will be on my way to the airport, and off to San Francisco for the next seven weeks.

Carry-on entertainment and necessities: books (About Town and Strong Opinions), notebooks, pens and cartridges, phone, wallet, haphazard embroidery, scores, passports.

I'll be part of Opera Academy of California's start-up summer program. We'll be presenting several master classes and scenes in addition to three full productions (I'll be singing Lazuli in L'Étoile). As the program is new, we will be a relatively small group of singers, so we'll be kept quite busy!

Going away also means finishing-off-the-contents-of-the-fridge meals:

Brown rice fried with lettuce, almonds and an egg for lunch yesterday...

... and eggs scrambled with cottage cheese, turmeric and pumpkin seeds on toast for breakfast today.

Procrastination

2011-06-14T20:41:00.007-04:00

Somehow, my small break became a very long hiatus indeed. But, no matter – here I am now, back and promising not to ignore my Scrapbook any further.

I won’t go into the details of everything I’ve been up to. It’s like that awkward phone conversation with a half-forgotten friend after a long silence; there is simply too much to say, and so there is nothing to say at all.

And, somehow, it also became nearly Summer. To mark the event (driven home by last week's heat wave in New York), I went to Brighton Beach.

It's not surprising that this turned out to be such a long bout of silence on my part. Without the framework of deadlines, even loose, self-appointed ones, things easily fall by the wayside. After all, what's one more day without writing? These are the pleasures of Procrastination, my friends, that unwelcome house guest so familiar to so many of us.

I am a big procrastinator, but I am also generally productive. The magical ingredient is, of course, a concrete motivator. This is usually external: a paper deadline or the start of a rehearsal period. Breaking up the work usually requires a personal commitment to self-imposed micro-accomplishment, however, and I my track record is uneven in this department. A paper is generally relegated to an all-night typing binge, for instance, but I can't get away with this when it comes to memorizing music. I have a long history of cramming for tests, but there are too many factors to control when it comes to performance - movement, harmony, text and character conjured in real time - for me to trust a haphazard memory bank.

Ah! To live on the edge! Charley Chase rides a bike, via Rides a Bike.

Yet things do seem to pile up; I am not perfect, after all. Currently, I'm finishing the process of learning a fair heap of music for a quickly approaching summer program with a certain amount of panic. (As anyone who's had a conversation with me in the past month will tell you.) Therein lies the ugly side of simultaneous predilection toward achievement and procrastination!

Our hero, tired of practicing and memorizing.

I'm still alive!

2011-03-31T21:00:00.002-04:00

via Zootool

The fact that I haven't written anything in a good long time here pains me. Unfortunately, today is not the day I bring you anything particularly brilliant (although that duck is quite mesmerizing, isn't he?). However, Internet, rest assured that I am alive and well - and in the process of finalizing what I'll be up to next year, to boot.

No Musical Missed Connections through Sceneroller

2011-03-17T08:34:00.005-04:00

My mother usually has me read over the posts of her blog before she publishes them (good blogging practice!). In general the articles - on Web 2.0 projects, tech conferences, business books, etc... - are relatively removed from my field of vision and my field of work (although an entrepreneur is entrepreneur, no matter the business, and many tenets of startup projects hold true for musicians). But her most recent post is very much on my turf. Sceneroller, a sort of musical family-tree and connections mapping website, is not centered in classical music, but its growing multi-layer database is a fascinating and potentially very useful tool for anyone interested in the music scene and its history. As such, I've stolen my mother's interesting post from Grade A Entrepreneurs to post here:

Sceneroller is a social music discovery site of a different breed, and a phenomenal complement to the innumerable sites and blogs dedicated to bands and artists, as well as music delivery networks such as Pandora or Soundcloud, orDeezer in Europe. It expresses something that has rarely been captured: the social nature of the music scene. Sceneroller starts the collaborative writing and graphing of the history of local music scenes that connect bands, people, venues and gigs!
The project began with the Che Underground blog that depicts the San Diego underground rock’n'roll scene of the 1980s, where Sceneroller’s co-founder,Matthew Rothenberg, explored his own musical youth. Of the multiple bands that existed back then, only a few were visible online in historical records, and most had disappeared completely, while memories of tunes, thrill, and dramas still linger in the minds of the regulars involved in that scene – and influence newer generations. Albeit ephemeral in nature, music builds lasting bonds – so much so that three years later, the Che Underground site welcomes 16,000 visitors/month and has resurrected most of the San Diego scene. While working at it, Matthew, Jason Brownell and Jonathan Goldin (the other co-founders ofSceneroller) experienced the limitations of the linear blog format, narrated by one voice, and, where people can contribute, but are still dependent on an author. What came out of the blog was a desire from users to explore the scene in any direction they wanted. As a result, the founders of Sceneroller decided to better reflect the tribal world of music by also mapping the interconnections between bands, musicians, venues, and gigs (which they, in turn added to Che Underground) and let users participate in this encyclopedia at whatever level they could. As I looked randomly, I came across this map, showing the complex interconnections of a San Diego band that was active between 1984 and 1987, The Morlocks.
Bands are represented as blue planets that contain members (red stars) who can be musicians, people from the crew, and even fans. They perform in venues (green rectangles), which are themselves containers for gigs (yellow triangles). This approach addresses the limitations of standard family trees and enables readers to see how bands are related through shared musicians and gigs, and their audience within venues. By enabling users to navigate non-linearly,Sceneroller reveals connections that we may not even think of – and that the participants of those bands themselves may have been unaware of.
Sceneroller shows the long tail of the countless bands that never got signed to anything, got signed to independent labels or even to major labels, but never really made it — a sweet spot that basically corresponds to the music scene as we all know and enjoy it even if we attend the shows of famous bands now and then. The unknown or not-so-famous bands can last for years, even decades, either because their musicians have a day-job or made surviving from hand-to-mouth their lifestyle. But more importantly, they create the breeding ground from which a small minority ends up blossoming, where they honed their skills, or got their inspiration. Kurt Cobain, for instance, was a roadie (and remained a big fan) of The Melvins who started in 1983 and still exist 28 years later… And Scenerollerwill also be a catalyst for musicians to meet again, much like with the Che Underground prototype: “We had a reunion concert in May 2009 in San Diego,” says Matthew emotionally. “We hadn’t gotten together in 26 years.”
As I am exploring this extraordinary product, I can’t help thinking that Matthew, by recapturing the ceremonial aspect of the music scene and its surprising intricacies, is doing on a different register something that is somewhat reminiscent of what his father, the extraordinary American poet Jerome Rothenberg did with his ethnopoetics. Small or short-lived, larger or long-lasting (such as Manual Scan whose two main players started to play together in 1976), these unsung bands have framed the largest part of our music oral culture, whose structure and idioms result from the interactions of musicians, people, and places over time.
Sceneroller is in the making (still in Beta), and the company is fixing bugs or interface details. Graphing the music scene is a huge enterprise, so do not expect to find everything you are looking for. Don’t be pissed but, instead, contribute! You will undoubtedly already find gems that will make you smile: Roger McNamee, for example, or the indirect relationship between Siouxie and the Banshees and The Flowers of Romance via Budgie who played for The Slits withPalmolive … So help others discover such gems! For example, “the map of The Morlocks,” Matthew insists, “is based entirely on input from registered users. ANYONE can help curate music history as long as they’re registered. For us, the participatory nature of Sceneroller echoes the do-it-yourself ethos of local music scenes themselves. This is a digital version of the sort of conversation we all had in our respective music scenes when they first happened!”
Today, Sceneroller starts with rock’n'roll, simply because the founders are rock’n'roll musicians, and reaches back 1949 as the earliest date, but as Matthew puts it “There is no reason why this should be limited. I want jazz musicians to start to tell their story because I want to be open.” And then, Matthew added Philippe Kahn right under my eyes!

Cornmeal pudding

2011-03-14T21:02:00.002-04:00

At this point of my living in the United States, I am seldom in situations where I crave a sort of food that is impossible to find. A big part of this is the change that has occurred in the past decade or so in the American supermarket landscape. When we moved here, my mother and I kept running in to nasty food-related surprises. Admittedly, this was partially our fault, as we expected the stocks of basic California supermarkets, rather than specialty gourmet shops, to offer up cheeses and breads in a fashion comparable to their French counterparts. Sometimes, it was a simple problem of miscommunication. For example: in France, milk typically comes in entier (whole), demi-écrémé (partially skimmed) and écrémé/maigre (skim). So, in a misguided attempt to translate American milk packaging, we naturally bought half & half. As neither of us were big milk drinkers, it took us years to figure out this meant half cream, half milk...

But how the times have changed! I've fallen in love with American cheeses - especially with New York and New England creameries churning out a veritable panoply of incredible specimens. Beautiful loaves of bread are no longer rare finds. I even find many of the charcuterie offerings I once missed dearly. Still, a few foods, mostly pre-packaged brands, continue to elude me. While chocolate pudding is a delicious thing indeed, I miss square containers of Danettes au chocolat, or, lately, individually-sized semolina puddings with chocolate sauce. With this in mind, I set out to recreate a similar dessert with what I had on hand in pantry. The result was not a particularly accurate copy, but it did have a similarly smooth thickness in its consistency, and made for a very quick and comforting weeknight dessert.

Cornmeal pudding

(makes 4 to 6 servings)

2 cups milk

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup cornmeal

1/2 tsp salt

2 tbsps dark rum

2 tsps orange zest

1/4 tsp cinnamon

In a heavy saucepan dissolve the sugar into the milk at medium heat. Bring to a simmer and add in the cornmeal and salt, whisking regularly.

Zest about a quarter of an orange and add it to the mixture along with the rum and cinnamon. Alternately, you can choose to spice (or not spice) the thickening pudding any way you'd like: 2 tbsp of brandy, 2 pods of cardamon, 1 tbsp of vanilla or 1 tsp or almond extract, etc...

After a few minutes, the thickened cornmeal will start to bubble on the bottom of the pan and "jump." Make sure to keep stirring at this point to avoid burning the pudding, which should be thick enough to stay trapped in the whisk - if so, you're done!

Transfer either directly to individual ramequins or a larger serving bowl. Serve either cold or warm, with fresh or dried fruit. Or, top the pudding with melted chocolate or caramel. The possibilities are endless!

Braised cabbage with lardons and hazelnuts

2011-03-12T15:29:00.009-05:00

I'm a big cabbage fan, but I recognize that not everyone adores the stuff. With St. Patrick's Day coming up, images of soggy cabbage leaves smelling of wet socks are undoubtedly being conjured up for many by the window displays. But cabbage need not be such a watery affaire! Here is a rather more sensuous take on the vegetable, with plenty of richness from bacon and hazelnuts, and sweetness from onion and red wine.

Braised cabbage with lardons and hazelnuts

(Makes 3 to 4 side servings)

2 thick slices bacon

1 sweet onion

1/8 tsp nutmeg

1/2 head green cabbage

1/2 cup red wine

1/4 hazelnuts

salt and pepper

Cut into small pieces the bacon slices and begin to cook them over medium heat in a thick-bottomed skillet (cast iron is my choice), letting the fat melt. Meanwhile, halve and cut the onion into thin strips. Once the bacon grease has melted to some extent, add the onion, salt and nutmeg, and let it brown and soften, about 5 to 10 minutes.

Julienne the cabbage thinly. Bring the pan to a high heat. When the onion is beginning to caramelize, add the shredded cabbage. Braise it, stirring often in order to avoid burning.

Coarsely chop or break up the hazelnuts and add them to the skillet. Add the red wine. Lower the heat again to medium-low. Add salt and pepper. Cover the pan with a lid or tin foil. Let simmer until soft and browned, about 10 to 15 minutes.

Dreary days

2011-03-06T08:39:00.007-05:00

There's been a fair amount of radio silence in these parts lately. Perhaps I have been very busy, you may think. But, alas, I have no particularly good excuse for overlooking my scrapbook. In fact, it has been my relative absence of activity that has been the real culprit.

I am currently in between projects - or perhaps more appropriately, objectives. Having recently finished a round of auditions, I have not quite started working on my next venture. And, although I continue to have plans of what I want to achieve in my practice and in lessons or coachings, I've had a hard time mustering up the driving force to execute them this past week. I work; I analyze. But the better part of me is not quite there.

Ennui by Walter Richard Sickert, ca. 1914, Tate Collection.

It's a disappointing place to be in: At some point in their development, musicians learn to practice. Something shifts in our approach, understanding and/or capacities that transforms the chore we used to have to do because of external forces (a watchful parent, the threats of a teacher, an approaching concert) into an interesting opportunity to explore. Practicing becomes not simply a hateful means to more glorious endeavors, but an attractive end unto itself (at least some days). I myself have only found the confidence to truly enjoy working alone within the past two or three years. I used to be terrified that I wouldn't manage to recreate any of the sounds that I had achieved in lessons or, worse still, that I would botch my hard-earned new skills by practicing improperly. But, as basic technique became easier and even automatic, I realized I could not only practice as a means of staving off technical decay but as a way to progress on my own terms. I could trust myself to dig into the puzzle unsupervised.

Practice sessions that are focused and productive are energizing and exciting. The importance of a session's concrete goals (mastering a tricky passage, learning a piece, etc...) may even become secondary to the engrossing act of doing - creating and expanding in the moment. On the other hand, too many lackluster sessions are disheartening indeed. You can't help but wonder if you really enjoy what you're doing at all, what the point is.

Of course, this is normal, and in any field of interest or work. There are bound to be humdrum days. But there are also exhilarating days, assuming you are following a path you really do love (I recognize not everyone is in that comfy boat, unfortunately). Maybe you need to shift something in your approach. Maybe you need some form of new, external inspiration. Or maybe you just need to wait it out. As for my own enthusiasm troubles, I'm not too particularly worried - after all, there are flowers starting to appear in Prospect Park.

Sautéed vegetables with goat cheese

2011-02-28T19:59:00.007-05:00

I was craving goat cheese all week-end, yet between travel and social calls, none of that sweet stuff was to be procured. So it was imperative to me that I work it in to my dinner plans tonight. Now, as content as I am to eat toast with thick layers of soft cheese for just about any meal, I felt I should really feed my partner a more balanced offering. I settled on an quick and hearty combination of vegetables that I could adorn with thick globs of young goat cheese.

Sautéed autumn vegetables with goat cheese

(makes 2 servings as a main)

1 large red onion

1 large sweet potato

1 dozen Brussels sprouts

2 cloves garlic

olive oil, for sautéing

1 tbs balsamic vinegar

1/2 sprig fresh rosemary

3 oz. soft goat cheese

salt and pepper

Halve and cut the onion into thin strips, and begin to cook it in olive oil over medium-high heat in a large, heavy-bottomed pan. After 5 minutes salt the onions and add the vinegar. Reduce to medium heat, cover, and let the onion soften, about 10 more minutes.

Peel the sweet potato and cut it into relatively thin slices. Add them to the frying pan uncovered, adding more olive oil as necessary, as well as salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, cut off the ends and quarter the Brussels sprouts. Put them to boil in a medium sauce pan with salt. Once the water is boiling, blanch them for approximately 5 minutes.

When the sweet potato slices are cooked through, add the Brussels sprouts into the mixture, along with the 2 finely chopped garlic cloves and ripped up rosemary. Let everything cook a few minutes longer, and adjust salt and pepper to taste. Once the vegetables are on their serving plates, add a large dollop of goat cheese on each mound. Enjoy!

Searching for Little Miss Prodigy

2011-02-22T20:01:00.008-05:00

In the first chapter of Speak, Memory, Vladimir Nabokov makes a passing allusion to the limits of child prodigies. He describes them as “pretty, curly-headed youngsters waving batons or taming enormous pianos, who eventually turn into second-rate musicians with sad eyes and obscure ailments and something vaguely misshapen about their eunuchoid hindquarters” (Nabokov 25)*.

While I might not phrase it quite the same way, I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment. Why is there such a cult around people who display signs of talent at an early age? Well, some of the answer is obvious, and even reasonable: we are fascinated by abnormality. We are fascinated by genius, and the child who sits at a piano making up musical hits certainly seems genial when his peers are busy eating crayons. But what happens at age twenty? Is our modern-day Mozart still, well, a Mozart? What if he isn’t?

Little Sophie Delphis, showing sure signs of early genius - look at the way she holds that stuffed monkey. Photo by Marylène Delbourg-Delphis.

Some people display prodigious talent at an early age; some don’t. Ultimately, does it really matter? In a way, yes – the Wunderkind has an edge. He has, on a basic level, had more time to practice and hone his ability. Part of the reason an obsession builds around early talent is that it takes a tremendous amount of time and learning to become proficient in any number of fields, especially when the body is expected to achieve extraordinary feats, from violin to gymnastics. An earlier proclivity toward a subject simply means more time.

And the fact that he shows more promise, earlier, may very well mean that our Wunderkind will continue to be better than others in his age bracket even when they are no longer begrudgingly expected to stick small objects up their noses for entertainment purposes. He could very well be a genius, possessing such innately superior abilities that they naturally present themselves early on. But he may simply be on a different learning curve, one that will ultimately level out.

via Cartoon Stock.

Two major problems stem from our fascination with prodigy. The first is the Good Modern Open-Minded Encouraging Parent’s obsession with finding talent at the youngest age possible. Do not enroll your hyperactive two-year-old in a ballet class; do not panic if your child is not voted MVP when a soccer ball is the size of his torso. The second is that, specifically in the arts, the quest for Doing Everything Earlier (much like its cousins Doing Everything Faster and Making Everything Bigger) often results, at best, in a proficient but robotically technical understanding. (At worst it results in shoddy technical foundations that can have quite literally crippling side-effects in later years.) Therein comes the frustrating truth of “second-rate musicians with sad eyes.” Creating art means actually living. How many experiences can an eight-year-old bring to a performance? How many can he bring twenty years later when all he has ever known are practice rooms and concert halls?

Some child prodigies are incontestably superior; some are questionable. Most are, if not mystifying, interesting, or at least pretty adorable. But they are not the be all and end all of accomplishment. They are, innately, outliers, and it is not every parent, teacher and mentor’s job to craft a Child Marvel out of every normal, even precocious, boy or girl. It is high time we stopped glorifying half-baked stabs at achievements just because they were orchestrated by someone who hasn’t yet hit puberty.

But, lest I sound too... crotchety, a bit of good clean fun, courtesy of a very young Beverly Sills, who proves you can make the transition from kiddie wonder to adult artist:

*Nabokov, Vladimir. Speak, Memory. New York: Vintage, 1989.

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookies

2011-02-19T17:19:00.012-05:00

I have a soft spot in my heart for more unconventional flours. In the baking aisle, I stare longingly at the spelt and kamut flours, the corn meals, the bran, etc... Inevitably, I crack, and I bring home some treasured bundle that ends up being used that week and then left in the pantry mercilessly under-appreciated. But this should not be so! Therefore, I have been on a small mission to use up the pantry staples that never quite became staples. Today's offering is a buckwheat take on that beloved icon of baked goods, the chocolate chip cookie.

Buckwheat chocolate chip cookies

1 cup buckwheat flour

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 cup light brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

4 oz. unsalted butter, softened

1/4 cup unsalted almond butter

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbsp vanilla extract

1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350ºF, with rack in the middle. Grease cookie sheets or sheet pans (2 to 3 will be necessary, or you can of course bake in batches).

Cream together the softened butter and white and brown sugar until obtaining a light paste. Beat in the almond butter, then the eggs, salt and vanilla extract.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the buckwheat and all-purpose flours with the baking soda and baking powder. Mix the dry ingredients into the paste with a spatula or wooden spoon.

If using a bar of baking chocolate, cut it up into a variety of sizes with a sharp knife, so as to obtain larger chunks as well as much smaller ones. I used a combination of leftover chips and baking chocolate discs, which resulted in a whole slew of shapes and sizes. Mix chocolate pieces into the batter.

Form tablespoon-sized balls of dough and arrange them on the baking sheet(s). The cookies will not pool or expand outward very much, so they can be relatively close together. Along that same vein, press the balls of dow down slightly with your fingers, as they will not flatten significantly. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes. When removing the cookies from the oven, let them cool at least partially on the sheet, as they will be still too soft to handle. Yields approximately 2 1/2 dozen cookies.

When the cookies are cool, they are soft and chewy, but not in the same dense and gooey way as a typical soft chocolate chip cookie. The buckwheat flour and almond butter add a pleasant nutty depth to the taste of the batter that complements a dark chocolate well. The dough is not very sweet - there is enough sugar in this recipe for my taste, but I think it would certainly not be cloying to up the granulated sugar level to 3/4 cup.

What am I doing here?

2011-02-15T18:19:00.000-05:00

I was waiting at an audition last Saturday when an unfamiliarly enlightened thought struck me: I was not viewing the other singers around me as competition to be feared and loathed. I could hear snatches of warm-ups and last minute rehearsals from the practice rooms, and from these it was clear that the vocal caliber was quite high. But this didn’t throw me into a panic; I didn’t have the compulsion to compare my own shortcomings to these anonymous sounds. Instead, they reassured me of my worth: since we had already gone through a prescreening round, all the singers around me had been in some way selected to audition. Including me. “If the others are impressive,” I thought, “I must be as well, in some capacity.” I felt like an insider, and I felt flattered.

This isn’t usually the situation at an audition, when tension runs high. Moreover, most audition situations are not callbacks or invitation-based exams: in a general “cattle call,” it is exponentially more difficult to feel loved and wanted. (Except perhaps for the consummate egomaniac, but that’s not really the way to go either.) I realize I won’t have the luxury of feeling so cared for at every interview and audition, but it doesn’t mean I cannot synthesize a comfortable atmosphere through my perception of the situation and, more importantly, of myself in it.

via Skandalon

Ideally, we would not need so much comparative input from those around us, being able instead to have an inherent feeling of self-worth. Realistically, however, in a world and a career path where progress is an idée fixe, one person’s worth is constantly placed on a scale with his competition. An audition is not, ultimately, about finding the perfect singer, it means finding the best singer in a given group – so the comparison to others is that much more on candidates’ minds. That’s fine, and necessary, to some extent. It’s also helpful to track one’s own progress with the general level of others more or less in the same boat.

But drawing comparison, and the natural longing for a competitive edge, cannot become a debilitating loss of sense of self. Self-esteem means in part self-knowledge. It means knowing that you are your own working organism, rather than an entirely relative shadow of those around you.

via colormewithchaos

As I’m seeing, it gets easier with age – or rather, with maturity. It also gets easier with experience and a basic list of accomplishments that serve as a stabilizing base. Without these applicable “successes” – concerts, awards, even simple praise – it’s hard to shape a visible form out of the general mass of potential talent and practice hours. In much the same way as children have to develop a sense of their personalities, singers, and other career-people, have to create themselves over time. A balance must be struck between the developing internalized and externally-fueled senses of self.

Clementine olive oil cakes

2011-02-13T19:20:00.003-05:00

Valentine's Day is nearly upon us, although I can't say I really care about flowers and chocolates and romantic dinners - frankly, I don't need a nationally specified date for my loved ones to show me affection. But every holiday has a potential upside in my view, and that is themed cooking. (Had I not been so busy, I would surely have made groundhog-shaped cookies on 2 February...) So, when I had a Sunday afternoon, too many clementines, and an inclination to bake, it was clear that this would be the perfect pretext for heart-shaped goodies.

Clementine olive oil heart cakes

(adapted with little change from Smitten Kitchen)

3 clementines (or 1 to 2 oranges, depending on size)

3/4 cup sugar

2 tbsp Amaretto

1/2 cup tart whole milk yoghurt (or buttermilk)

3 "large" eggs

2/3 cup olive oil

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

The zested clementines declare an impromptu war on the eggs; the knife moderates.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF; grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan or smaller pans amounting to an equivalent volume.

Combine grated zest of the clementines and sugar in a large mixing bowl. Peel the fruit, removing as much pith as possible from the segments, and chop into small pieces. Add to the zest and sugar, along with the Amaretto. Whisk in the olive oil, yoghurt and eggs.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Fold the dry ingredients into the wet mixture, gently and without over-stirring.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan(s). Bake for 50 to 55 minutes (40 to 45 if using smaller moulds) - the top should be a golden brown and an inserted toothpick come out clean. Let the cake(s) sit for 5 to 10 minutes before unmoulding, then cool to room temperature.

Warm and cozy from the oven.

The resulting cakes are moist but very light. Halved, they would happily sandwich whipped cream or orange marmalade. Now that I've made you a bit of dessert, dear readers, will you be my Valentines?

Drunken Tea Time

2011-02-09T20:05:00.001-05:00

On Sunday afternoon, the household wasn't gearing up for the Super Bowl, but we were having roommate tea time. And to make things more interesting, we made it a spiked tea. Joe looked up various gin and tea-based drinks, and came up with a combination that was quite popular all around.

Gin and Tea Punch:

(based on David Kiley's Bloomsbury Punch)

10 oz. gin (Beefeater in our case)

10 to 12 oz. strongly brewed Earl Grey tea

6 oz. fresh-squeezed lemon juice

1/2 cup granulated sugar (or a bit less, to taste)

1/2 oz. orange bitters

1 oz. Cointreau

lemon slices

Here is a helpful diagram of the components (the last is sugar, if you couldn't tell - for which I wouldn't blame you).

Melt the sugar in the tea in a sauce pan (preferably with an enameled interior), stirring regularly over medium heat. Add in other liquids and heat, but do not let boil. Serve in tea cups, with a lemon slice. Makes 4 to 5 servings.

Focus

2011-02-06T21:19:00.000-05:00

The scene: The airport, Air Canada terminal, ten o’clock. I am about to enter the security queue when a terrible realization flashes before me: I’ve left my plastic ziplock bag of liquids and creams on the table by the door at home. (You know, so that I would be sure not to forget it…) At this point, you might ask, “Why is this such a tragedy, Sophie? Surely you can buy makeup and travel-size toothpaste in Montreal?” On this point, you are not mistaken: While a minor inconvenience, the need to purchase emergency audition makeup is certainly not earth shattering. But! I need contact lenses – contacts I am not currently wearing, and contacts I will need to be wearing for my audition. My heart sinks.

A representation of my troubled mien; my large glasses.

Of course, there is no written rule that says I cannot wear glasses while singing, but I would certainly prefer the third of my face that is obstructed from view by my bulky frames to be visible to my audience. Let us call it an unwritten rule, then. Nor am I integrally blind without contacts – I surely won’t be able to recognize any faces, but I probably won’t run into the wall, either. (Probably…) So why can’t I simply go in blurry-eyed?

Focus: when I cannot focus literally, I have a considerably harder time focusing in any other capacity. This was made excruciatingly clear to me last year during a studio class (wherein a teacher’s students attend and sing in an intra-studio masterclass). I went up to sing a relatively fresh piece, was asked to remove my glasses for expressive purposes, and felt immediately out of my element. Not only was the visual world blurry around me, the music sounded more unfamiliar. I struggled with the simple task of counting the beats; I couldn’t remember the words in advance. I was swimming through an aria I had already sung from memory earlier that day.

via pvks

Focus is a keystone to performing – on stage, as well as in any other field (how many books, coaches, and courses are dedicated to finding focus in sports, or business, etc…?) – and it is something that everyone is concerned with finding, refining, or keeping. It is not the same thing as thinking. Often, in fact, we (we singers, and we humans) are told to stop thinking and start doing. Because this is what performance is: the result of months or years of thinking, analyzing and practice come to a head in an instant of action. Concentration funnels all this training. The paradox is that the more focused we are, the more we are able to let ourselves go. It allows actors on stage to be simultaneously desensitized enough to the outside not to be taken aback by disruptions and aware of their surroundings enough to improvise when things go awry. But without focus (and previous, hard work!) you are simply left trying to think and process very fast. In certain cases it works, or at least well enough. But a performance is not about letting others in on the odds and ends of your work process; it is about sublimating these into something greater.

For the sake of our subject matter, let us get back on track. How does my woeful story of missing contacts pan out, you ask? Do I muster up the courage to go in blind? No: I arrive in Montreal, and with a bit of digging and a bit of luck, I come across an office that will fill my prescription without a new eye exam. So my odyssey comes perhaps to an overly neat end, but one that I certainly prefer!

Winter Weeknight salad

2011-02-03T19:49:00.006-05:00

While yesterday's slush spurred me to cook up a hearty dinner of sweet potatoes and baked bluefish (we bought a whole specimen and called him Bernard) covered with bacon and shallots, today seemed like a salad night. The result was a welcome mixture of tart, sweet and rich tastes and textures.

Arugula and pear salad with feta and pumpkin seeds.

The mixture, per plate:

A couple hefty handfuls of arugula or other dark green (spinach, etc..)

Half pear (red Anjou here), quartered and cut into thin slices

1 tbsp pumpkin seeds (pepitas), toasted

1 oz feta

The dressing, for two plates:

1/4 cup kefir or tart plain yogurt

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp lemon juice

salt and pepper to taste

As is generally the case when I cook, I end up using ingredients off the top of my head, and mixing them by sight and taste rather than by strict number. I encourage you to do the same, and to disregard my "recipe" in however many ways you see fit.

Ritual, or "Fear does not prevent danger"

2011-01-31T16:10:00.004-05:00

We all have our little rituals – this is certainly true of singers, whose live performances leave the door open to possible chaos. As I am currently in the thick of auditions, this fact is particularly apparent to me. Auditions are a vulnerable time, and it feels like any bit of extra snatched luck is imperative. So I have my rituals. In reality, of course, their good lies more in the comfort and confidence that “doing things right” imparts than in their power to stroke the Fates in the right direction, but this is not always easy to keep in mind.

via divinehood

The line between comforting superstition and functional necessity is a blurry one, and changes from person to person. Numerous are the accumulated dogmas of singers in “performance mode.” “A” swears that she cannot possibly eat tomatoes; “B” must have steak before a concert. A general list of rules for physical fitness is hard to determine, as each singer has a different relationship to his body, and each body reacts differently to foods or climates. So, the hard-held beliefs of singers are a constantly evolving list of discoveries. A young singer is told by teachers and peers what to do and not to do; over time, through trial and error, he comes up with his own list. Ultimately, which items are physical requirements, and which are purely psychological, is a tricky conclusion to draw…

Creature comforts: ubiquitous cardigan and scarf; music binder and practice log; emergency makeup and hairpins; water bottle; music.

As I have matured vocally and, more importantly, technically, I have pared down the members of my security blanket armada. When once the act of singing seemed like a high-wire act necessitating that all the elements of the universe converge in my favor, I am able now to rely more on the physical certainty of my body and my technique. I need fewer rules, and fewer rituals. I am less afraid of being sick: if I can sing without pain, so be it; if I cannot, I realize I will simply have to wait. I also do not adhere to any particular forbidden foods lists. In fact, most of my little rituals (because they certainly do exist) are not about fearfully avoidingperceived harms as if they were evil omens. Instead, they center on activities that make me feel more energetic, focused and at ease. But, lest I seem sickeningly pragmatic, I will admit two of my favorite irrational talismans: 1) I still hold my breath in cars when driving through tunnels, happily paying respects to this childhood relic of superstition. 2) I still love to hear my mother tell me “La peur n’évite pas le danger” (“Fear does not prevent danger”), which, although not a particularly helpful mantra, always brings a soothing surge of familiarity to my nerves.

The prodigal returns

2011-01-29T17:53:00.003-05:00

I haven't been terribly impressive in my ability to post regularly, have I? Well, if at first you don't succeed, and so on...

But you see? Number 4 on the list clearly states that I shall post twice a week in February. My return is positively epic.

Idomeneo, at Boston Lyric Opera

2010-05-01T08:12:00.005-04:00

I went to see the BLO production of Mozart's Idomeneo last night. It was my first time seeing the opera; in fact, it was my first time hearing a great majority of the music. (By virtue of my being a classical voice major interested in opera, and many companies' reliance on the same tried-and-true audience favorites, this is not a very common occurrence.) I have always grouped Idomeneo with La clemenza di Tito - in part because the latter is also a less familiar piece to me, in part because of both works' more traditional opera seria style, as compared to the beloved Da Ponte offerings. But in listening to the piece last night, it became clear to me that I can also link it to the Requiem in its choruses, considerably more than other Mozart operas. Here the chorus, particularly in the second and third acts, are given complex, pathos-ridden music that is much more than crowd atmosphere creation.

Last night's production was fast-paced and dynamic. The unchanging set of par-ruined Greek columns was simple but visually compelling throughout. The choice of time-period led me to scratch my head as a result of the costuming, however - in particular, if Idomeneo is now returning from the Trojan War, why is the High Priest of Crete a dead ringer for a Greek orthodox patriarch? Three of the main roles were compelling to watch and hear: Jason Collins, as Idomeneo, and Sandra Piques Eddy, as Idamante, were good physical foils to each other and made a strong father-son team. It was upon Idamante's second major scene, the first with his father, that I felt Piques Eddy really turned on, vocally and in her stage presence. To round out the trio was Caroline Worra as Elettra, who sang and moved impressively both in her Act I aria and in her final mad scene. One would hope an Elettra would command the stage, and in these numbers, Worra certainly did.

Between the production design and the majority of the cast, I'm happy to say I had a generally very positive first full taste of Idomeneo.

Thomas Quasthoff masterclass

2010-04-30T16:20:00.003-04:00

Thomas Quasthoff (with Justus Zeyen in a supporting role) gave a masterclass in Jordan Hall at NEC this afternoon. I had, understandably, high expectations for the event, and I was happy that the class did not disappoint.

Quasthoff was both demanding and extremely playful. His masterclass was a performance for the audience to enjoy: he was quippy, and quite charming (hearing him sing portions of the pieces prepared by the four students was another perk). I can only imagine that the prospect of singing German Lieder for one of the reigning champions of the style was as daunting as it was exciting, but the students and masterteachers were able to create some very distinct changes in interpretation.

Based on his own performing style, it was not a surprise to me to hear how much importance Quasthoff puts on the emotional content of the songs. But it was wonderful to hear this approach repeatedly emphasized nonetheless. In the day-to-day routine of conservatory life, as we strive so much to become the most proficient, clean singers we can be, it's easy to lose focus of what actually matters in a performance. Yes - a proper technique is important, but only as a means to a heartfelt interpretation. Over and over, Quasthoff underscored the importance of feeling and living the music as a human rather than a singing machine - pronouncing the text clearly but naturally, imbuing both the piano and vocal lines with a sense of atmosphere, progressing emotionally, using one's imagination, etc... His other repeated concern, that the performers use their entire bodies to create sound, goes hand in hand with the first motif of his lesson. The bottom line is that singers and pianists (and any other instrumentalist as well) must be people above technicians. They must use their entire selves, the outside and the inside, in order to express the notes. They must live, and create for the audience performances informed by their life experiences. Without this full dedication to and sense for the music, they are not creating art at all, but merely a series of audible frequencies of varying lengths.

The prospect of school coming to an end

2010-04-29T00:13:00.005-04:00

I have exactly one week left of classes, this year, and as an undergraduate. In less than one month, I shall have graduated (assuming no unforeseen logistical hiccups, but I am not). So where does this leave me? Starting soon, I am a free agent. For the first time in nearly two decades I shall not be a student. What freedom! What terror!

Mostly, this means a new, large responsibility. It means a great amount of organization, as well as personal accountability. Moreover, it means that I shall have to measure my worth, not by a series of marks and contests, but through inherent self-esteem. Ideally, I will have been doing this already... but I'm not always ideally able to do so. Of course, I won't be completely devoid of outside judgement - far from it, in fact. I will still continue lessons. And, as a hopeful musician, I am entering a life in which I will be judged regularly by outsiders: audition panels, teachers, etc... But I must nonetheless be able to judge my own progress and abilities. I must trust myself.

So this we add to the list of things I must watch closely in the coming year: Organization. Discipline. Self-accountability. Self-worth. I've studied intensively outside of school before - on summer breaks, I've managed quite a bit of learning these past few years. Let's see how I do for more than three months.

I'm actually quite confident, and excited, even. I envision detailed schedules and logs, studious autodidacticism. These are comforting thoughts to someone who, from the age of five, has always dreamt of going back to classes a month into summer vacation.