TFL and I just got back from seeing a production of Don Giovanni. The sight of Donna Elvira in dominatrix costume was a little jarring, but the production was decent overall.
A couple of really wonderful voices, and the rest solid enough that you weren't waiting for the next cringe-inducing moment.
Mozart is always wonderful, is he not?
We like to think that we have fairly interesting and diverse musical tastes around here.
Classical, jazz, rock and roll.
Some blues, some fado, some gospel.
A little of this, a bit of that.
But not so much hip hop or rap. We have one or two cds of Outkast, Ludacris, Mystikal (what is it with these k's?) and Jedi Mind Tricks. You know, standard fare that I mostly blame on Boy. Ok, and GirlChild. And maybe my godson (I blame him for Ludacris).
Anyway, it seemed like a gap. So along with some Rolling Stones and Soundgarden I picked up a few other new cds. The combination of Amazon and YouTube is deadly, and it turns fatal when GirlChild sits down with me. But instead of coming away with an order for cds from 50 Cent and Mary J. Blige (I always want to say Bilge and that's just not right) we succumbed to the temptations of MC Solaar and M.I.A.
That's ok. They'll sit comfortably with some of our Orishas recordings.
A somewhat unusual assortment of good friends came over for Pizza Night last night. It was chaos--everyone crammed into the kitchen, cooking and chopping and eating and drinking and carrying on several different conversations at once.
We made a Mexican pizza (hot sauce instead of pizza sauce, and cheddar instead of mozzarella), and a Hawaiian pizza but with turkey instead of ham because the deli made a mistake. GirlChild made a rosemary-potato pizza that was heavenly. It was all pretty yummy. And we made Ugly Cake for dessert, which was just pure evil.
And then they kidnapped me and forced me to play Rock Band. It was a riot. I will draw a veil over how much alcohol was consumed. But we had an excellent time mocking my hopelessly inept performance on guitar (they only let me try that once!) and slightly more ept performance on drums. Everyone else did an outstanding job, of course. Frankly, I monopolized the microphone and had a great time doing so--even on the songs I didn't even know and accordingly failed.
I feel that the next time I play it I should dig out some of those absurd outfits from my days in the band... And there will be a next time, because that was just way too much fun.
Here is a demonstration of why I did not become an opera singer. Well, this, and I lacked the glorious voice. Pay no attention to the image, which is awful, but just listen.
Somebody's playing Fur Elise as though it's an up-tempo, angry rock anthem, and they're doing it badly but with lots of thumping.
They need to stop it. Now.
In other news: GirlChild and I are home. Hospitals are not restful. She has a splint on her nose. I have a crick in my back from the hour of sleep I got on the chair in her room last night. TFL got us cinnamon rolls at the phenomenal Swedish restaurant near the hospital.
Do we cook comfort food to comfort ourselves, or others, or both?
I did go home and make pasties with TFL. We made about three dozen of them, which means quite a few dinners. Each one is wrapped in a buttery pastry crust, only slightly smaller than you would use for a pie. We used organic veggies and grass-fed beef, and they are wonderful. Some of them are set aside for our friends who can use all the comfort they can get, and who actually know what pasties are.
GirlChild came home from her tournament with two new frisbees, a snazzy jersey, and a sprained nose. We don't think it's actually broken, but it's definitely swollen and gashed. She's still pretty.
Now the kitchen has been cleaned up, the last pasties are cooling, I've read the latest on Mr. Squirmy's Unfortunate Adventure (breaking my heart yet again), and now I'm listening to Casals play Bach's Cello Suites while I read for class.* When the world is at its maddest, as it certainly is right now, Bach at least is sane.
*I'm not really reading for class. I have the reading in front of me, but I'm watching GirlChild assemble canvases for her painting class. And posting, I guess.
True Comfort Pasties
5 lbs each carrots, potatoes, and ground beef (preferably relatively high fat-content)
1 large rutabaga
5 lbs flour
salt and pepper
a pound or two or three of butter
some Crisco
Slice up all the (peeled and rinsed) veggies, potatoes last. Slice them fairly thin, and not larger around than a quarter (preferably closer to nickle size). Throw them into a very large bowl and mix them up with the meat. You have to do this by hand, really. My preferred method is to have TFL do it, and he does so very well. Add salt and pepper -- just sprinkle whatever amount seems best.
For the pastry, you can use whatever butter crust recipe you like, or you can do what I do: measure out roughly 2 cups of flour and a teaspoon of salt into a bowl. Cut in a stick of butter and a quarter cup of shortening until it's almost mealy. Add some ice water, not too much, and rub the mixture lightly between your (cold) fingertips until it starts to hang together. Each batch is enough for 4-5 pasties, depending on how big you make them.
Roll out the pastry, put a fair amount of the meat mixture in it, fold it in half and crimp the edges together. Put them on cookie sheets and bake them at 375 for about 50 minutes, depending on your oven. Don't forget to put little slits in the top and maybe swipe some butter across the top for a more golden crust.
This recipe makes a ton. It has to be baked in shifts, obviously, with the mixture going back in the fridge in between. You wash your hands a lot during the process, you wear out your rolling pin and your feet, and you make a fairly sizable mess.
Also, they're probably bad for you.
Eat them with ketchup and drink a glass of milk with your dinner.
I was sitting at my computer with my noise canceling headphones on, working on my case chart for American Law of Rhetoric and Race (phenomenal if sometimes stomach-turning class, if you ever get the chance to take it). A song by a Scottish band was ending, and I heard some bagpipes at the end of it, and I thought, huh. I don't remember bagpipes at the end of this song.
And then the bagpipes kept going, but the next song was starting, and I have my Nano on shuffle, so... This was odd.
I should say that it was after 11 at night. And the windows were closed.
So I took off my headphones, and the bagpipes were still playing. Uh... I walked back to look out at the neighbor's yard, and sure enough--there was a bagpiper, piping away. He played for nearly half an hour too.
I heard a (possibly apocryphal) story once about a village in Spain that kept the Moors away by playing bagpipes, which scared the living daylights out of them. What did the Scots do, to create something so incredibly loud? And yet, somehow it makes you start to tap your toes.
The angry businessman in the video is lots of fun to go clubbing with. Just thought you'd like to know.
My favorite guitarist playing music by one of my favorite composers:
If you have extra money around, my parents would tell you to give it to the missions. I say, give it to literacy programs. (My explanation for that statement is another subject for another post.) But sometimes kids (and adults) need more than someone teaching them the ABC's. They need inspiration, and hope, and a reason to care. And they need fun. Involving children in the arts has been proven, time and again, to be one of the most cost-effective and generally effective ways to improve their lives over the long term.
Last night I had the opportunity to go to a gala benefiting a local, internationally renowned children's choir. These singers are amazing. One of the neatest parts of a wonderful evening was seeing alumni of the choir come back, showing that they are thriving and, not coincidentally I think, still involved in music.
Give kids a reason to care, and a chance to show their stuff. Give to the arts.
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