Clementine olive oil cakes

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

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

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

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"

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

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

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.