This is our family way --- Romanian, Hungarian way --- of making what we call Chicken Stew and Dumplings. We always called it stew, but never thickened the broth so technically it's soup.
However, in order to understand this recipe I am going to give the original recipe and then explain how I do it today.
Historically, both Grandmas and my mom for years would start with a whole chicken, cut up --- put into a big pot and covered with water. Add a whole onion, whole carrot, large stalk of celery, possibly a turnip, salt and pepper and paprika. (Mom would throw in about 6 pepper corns.) Simmer on the stove (gentle boil) --- at least an hour or two.
In their time, the mark of a great cook was to be able to make clear and yet delicious broth so you didn't cut anything up. Periodically you would skim the top to remove foam, little bits, etc.
When the meat was literally falling off the bones, you would use a strainer to remove the chicken and veggies, make sure the broth was as clear as can be, make sure the pot was also clear of "little bits" and put the broth back into the pot. Turn the heat onto med-low.
Then remove bones and skin from the chicken, cut the meat into bite-size pieces and add to broth. (usually some of the meat was saved out for other things like sandwiches). Cut the carrot into bite-size pieces and add to broth. Put the turnip, celery and onion into a side dish to be served separately. Peel two or three medium potatoes, cut into bite-size pieces and add to the broth.
Let the broth begin to boil as you make the dumplings (the potatoes need to boil about 10 minutes) ---
Okay --- before I get to the dumplings ---
today, I do not buy a whole chicken and boil it for hours ----
I use chicken tenders and a box of chicken broth (no MSG)
So today, I put a tablespoon or two of olive oil in the pot, chop up a small onion, cut the chicken, 4 - 6 tenders, into bite-size pieces and saute the onion and chicken in the oil until brown. I season it with Montreal steak seasoning, paprika and garlic powder. You can also add sliced mushrooms, about 1/2 cup of chopped brussel sprouts or celery. I cut up 2 - 3 medium potatoes, and 4 - 6 small carrots and add them to the mix.
When the chicken is browned, I add one box of chicken broth; bring it to a gentle boil and let it boil for about 10 minutes while I make the dumplings:
Dumplings ---- there are a variety of dumpling recipes from the ones we make to the ones that are huge and are really biscuit dough (with milk and baking soda added) boiled in the broth. But this is our family way --- just three ingredients, egg, flour, salt --- this is also our noodle recipe; the only differences between noodles and dumplings is the size, shape, and the amount of flour; noodle dough is stiffer (more flour)
ANYWAY:
DUMPLINGS:
Use one egg for each 1/2 c of flour --- generally 2 eggs/1 cup. Put flour in medium bowl; crack eggs and put on top of flour. Add about 1/4 teaspoon salt. With a fork begin to whip the eggs into the flour, until the two are mixed together. Take the mixture out of bowl and place on LIGHTLY floured area; kneed gently until dough is smooth. You might add a bit of flour as you kneed the dough so it won't be sticky.
When dough is SMOOTH, roll it into a long round coil or rope --- generally I cut the dough into 2 - 4 pieces and make 2-4 separate "ropes" --- the width of the rope will determine how wide you want your dumplings. I generally make the dumplings about the width of a quarter.
Now how you cut the dumplings is up to you --- My grandmothers used a spoon, so did Mom. However, I have lately begun to use my kitchen shears and just cut pieces --- about 1/2 in wide and drop them into the boiling broth. It doesn't take long to cook the dumplings --- just a couple of minutes and then it's done and ready to eat!
Michael likes it topped with parmesan cheese.
Mom never cut up the onion because Poppy didn't like onion pieces in his soup; but I like the pieces.
Other things to add --- peas, cut up turnip (which is sweeter than potatoes), thinly sliced cabbage instead of the brussel sprouts, small broccoli flowerets, etc. Be careful if you add corn because it's sweet and will change the flavor ---
For DREW AND DJ: Poppy's favorite soup was tomato soup and dumplings.
to Everyone: One of Grandma's favorite breakfasts, was when her mom would roll out the dumpling dough and make little stuffed dumplings (like raviolis) --- she would stuff them with jelly and then put them into simmering milk (don't let the milk hit a full boil or it can burn). To make these, cut the rolled dough into two inch squares, add about a half/three-quarter teaspoon of jelly, fold into a triangle and crimp the edges. --- or raise the edges into a little bundle and crimp the top.
There you go.
Comfort food for today.
cherry blossoms
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Comfort Food
The last time I wrote here was September 1st --- since then Erin and Jeremy got married, we cast, rehearsed, and premiered our "Obsession" at the Croswell, Precious, the cat, had two surgeries and finally lost all of her teeth and now lives with her brother Charlie at Eric's house in Chicago (she now is called Francis Gum . . .), I have updated and published both "Jack and the Beanstalk" and "Pinocchio" for upcoming concerts, Michael and I are in the process of rewriting the "Pinocchio" libretto to include puppets, I spent Thanksgiving with Michael for the first time in 6 years, I went to San Francisco to see Leah in "Turandot", we did family Christmas in Michigan and now I'm back in Vegas with Michael for the holidays. . . . oh and I have knitted/crocheted a baby blanket, a bunting, a baby sweater vest and hat for Jolie's soon-to-be-born little boy, and an afghan for Jonathan and Marissa's wedding and right now I'm working on a hat for Jere and a scarf for Michael.
So there is good reason why I haven't written much.
Nonetheless, one of my early New Year's resolutions is to get back to this so here I am.
Last night I was at Alan's holiday party, and had an interesting discussion with a guy who sets up credit card systems for businesses. Obviously working with computers he has to have a feel for math and he said that he did. But he had some very interesting questions about music.
Now before I go on, I need to explain that I know that music and math go hand-in-hand. There are tons of studies that prove this, but I know this first hand, so I'm always surprised when someone embraces one and doesn't embrace the other.
Anyway,
He doesn't understand music, and his wife/girl friend (I never did find out) is very frustrated by that. He just never "got into it," doesn't remember music in the house, doesn't know how to listen to it --- was surprised when I told him I heard music as he spoke ---meaning I heard music in his words. (Which I do.)
Anyway, it became clear after a short time that he had determined that he was not going to understand so it really didn't matter what I told him. But he did ask one question --- does music soothe you? "Well of course," I said.
Today as I was making chicken stew and dumplings, I realized that music is like comfort food.
This time of year, chicken stew and dumplings is just something I crave --- it's cold outside (even in Vegas), but more than that it brings back all of those memories. And you know, the holidays are as much about memories as it is about celebrating.
In our family chicken stew and dumplings is a staple; both of my grandmothers made it on a weekly basis; it was the "go-to" dinner for us all.
On Christmas day, Michael and I played our Christmas music all day --- it's as much about the memories as the celebration there, too.
So I've decided to add recipes to this blog and I'm going to begin with chicken stew and dumplings.
To my family --- this is the first installment --- it goes along with the kitchen towels I gave you all.
So there is good reason why I haven't written much.
Nonetheless, one of my early New Year's resolutions is to get back to this so here I am.
Last night I was at Alan's holiday party, and had an interesting discussion with a guy who sets up credit card systems for businesses. Obviously working with computers he has to have a feel for math and he said that he did. But he had some very interesting questions about music.
Now before I go on, I need to explain that I know that music and math go hand-in-hand. There are tons of studies that prove this, but I know this first hand, so I'm always surprised when someone embraces one and doesn't embrace the other.
Anyway,
He doesn't understand music, and his wife/girl friend (I never did find out) is very frustrated by that. He just never "got into it," doesn't remember music in the house, doesn't know how to listen to it --- was surprised when I told him I heard music as he spoke ---meaning I heard music in his words. (Which I do.)
Anyway, it became clear after a short time that he had determined that he was not going to understand so it really didn't matter what I told him. But he did ask one question --- does music soothe you? "Well of course," I said.
Today as I was making chicken stew and dumplings, I realized that music is like comfort food.
This time of year, chicken stew and dumplings is just something I crave --- it's cold outside (even in Vegas), but more than that it brings back all of those memories. And you know, the holidays are as much about memories as it is about celebrating.
In our family chicken stew and dumplings is a staple; both of my grandmothers made it on a weekly basis; it was the "go-to" dinner for us all.
On Christmas day, Michael and I played our Christmas music all day --- it's as much about the memories as the celebration there, too.
So I've decided to add recipes to this blog and I'm going to begin with chicken stew and dumplings.
To my family --- this is the first installment --- it goes along with the kitchen towels I gave you all.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
September 1st --- all ready?
September. I dreaded September for years and years --- starting when I was six. When I was five I had no idea what school was, but I did when I was six. That's when the dreams would start just as school was approaching. Not nightmares really, but anxious dreams where I rehearsed everything about school for several weeks before "the big day". Those dreams generally lasted for the first weeks of school --- at least into October -- then I'd relax and the dreams would be gone --- until the next year. The dreams, by the way, lasted until I stopped teaching --- hmmm --- in my thirties.
Now I have those dreams whenever I prepare for a performance. They've already started for "Obsession." But in performance dreams, the music swirls again and again. My worst show dreams were when I directed "George M" because it was all Cohen music and NONE of it was slow! You can't sleep with "You're a Grand Old Flag" going on relentlessly in your brain.
At least some of the music I wrote for "Obsession" is "ballady" enough to still sleep with. And the good news is as the music swirls, I hear variations that help with the writing --- you know when you're writing show music you have several basic themes that need to recreate themselves, depending on the scene. At least that's how I look at the music.
So I've gotten some great stuff written from the dreams --- in the original Frankenstein symphony piece that we wrote, there was a song that Victor, the scientist, sings in the third movement questioning all of his choices. Because of the swirling, I realized that this song should be put into the first act, in the very beginning. We're now using it for the student scene when Victor first goes to the university and starts his quest to find the secret of life. Michael and I are very pleased with how this whole scene has turned out. I hope the scene is as good on stage as we feel it is on paper.
Oops --- shouldn't have said that --- tonight that will be part of my dream!
Now I have those dreams whenever I prepare for a performance. They've already started for "Obsession." But in performance dreams, the music swirls again and again. My worst show dreams were when I directed "George M" because it was all Cohen music and NONE of it was slow! You can't sleep with "You're a Grand Old Flag" going on relentlessly in your brain.
At least some of the music I wrote for "Obsession" is "ballady" enough to still sleep with. And the good news is as the music swirls, I hear variations that help with the writing --- you know when you're writing show music you have several basic themes that need to recreate themselves, depending on the scene. At least that's how I look at the music.
So I've gotten some great stuff written from the dreams --- in the original Frankenstein symphony piece that we wrote, there was a song that Victor, the scientist, sings in the third movement questioning all of his choices. Because of the swirling, I realized that this song should be put into the first act, in the very beginning. We're now using it for the student scene when Victor first goes to the university and starts his quest to find the secret of life. Michael and I are very pleased with how this whole scene has turned out. I hope the scene is as good on stage as we feel it is on paper.
Oops --- shouldn't have said that --- tonight that will be part of my dream!
Friday, August 26, 2011
getting ready for performance
So tonight I join 30+ people to do a review "43 Summers at the Croswell" which will run for three performances this weekend.
The Croswell Opera House is officially the oldest continuously running theatre in Michigan and unofficially the third oldest continuously running theatre in the USA. It opened in 1866 and because Adrian was on the railroad route from Boston to Chicago, the Croswell was on "the circuit" and for years had national celebrities performing there including John Philip Sousa and Maude Adams (and a bunch of others that I can never remember). In the early part of the 20th century it switched from being a vaudeville house to being a movie house. Then in 1967, when the Butterfield group decided to close it as a movie theatre, a private group purchased the building and the Croswell continued on, once again producing live theatre.
The Croswell's success for the last 43 years has come primarily from musicals, and that's what the review is all about this weekend, featuring songs from so many shows --- from Pirates of Penzance to Rent.
This is the theatre where we are going to premiere our show, "Obsession", and the artistic director is a dear friend of mine, so of course, I said "yes" when asked to be in the review.
I'm having a great time, but I have forgotten just how much work it is performing. I'm tired!
But every night, no matter how tired or sore I am (I didn't know I had those muscles!), I am exhilarated every time I get on stage.
The house lights dim, the spot light shines, the music starts, and I'm alive.
That's what the Croswell has done for me --- and countless others who have graced her stage since 1866. The Croswell is home to so many of us. WE are a rather ornery and dysfunctional family; the Croswell ghosts do their best to corral us --- yes of course there are ghosts! But the show goes on --- no matter what is going on backstage.
My dearest and closest friends all come from the Croswell. I met my husband there. My son first sang on her stage when he was three.
Now, part of the cast of this revue are kids my son grew up with who now are toting their own children into the theatre to become the next generation of "Croswell Kids."
We are blessed to have this building in our midst. http://www.facebook.com/TheCroswell
The Croswell Opera House is officially the oldest continuously running theatre in Michigan and unofficially the third oldest continuously running theatre in the USA. It opened in 1866 and because Adrian was on the railroad route from Boston to Chicago, the Croswell was on "the circuit" and for years had national celebrities performing there including John Philip Sousa and Maude Adams (and a bunch of others that I can never remember). In the early part of the 20th century it switched from being a vaudeville house to being a movie house. Then in 1967, when the Butterfield group decided to close it as a movie theatre, a private group purchased the building and the Croswell continued on, once again producing live theatre.
The Croswell's success for the last 43 years has come primarily from musicals, and that's what the review is all about this weekend, featuring songs from so many shows --- from Pirates of Penzance to Rent.
This is the theatre where we are going to premiere our show, "Obsession", and the artistic director is a dear friend of mine, so of course, I said "yes" when asked to be in the review.
I'm having a great time, but I have forgotten just how much work it is performing. I'm tired!
But every night, no matter how tired or sore I am (I didn't know I had those muscles!), I am exhilarated every time I get on stage.
The house lights dim, the spot light shines, the music starts, and I'm alive.
That's what the Croswell has done for me --- and countless others who have graced her stage since 1866. The Croswell is home to so many of us. WE are a rather ornery and dysfunctional family; the Croswell ghosts do their best to corral us --- yes of course there are ghosts! But the show goes on --- no matter what is going on backstage.
My dearest and closest friends all come from the Croswell. I met my husband there. My son first sang on her stage when he was three.
Now, part of the cast of this revue are kids my son grew up with who now are toting their own children into the theatre to become the next generation of "Croswell Kids."
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Morning Commute - the video
so the idea of putting a quick video of Morning Commute stuck with me all day --- here it is. The video portion is all free stock footage, so please don't get too wrapped up in what you see; it's what you hear that I care about.
the car is not broken!
The car is not broken! which is very good news. Yesterday, while driving to pick up Nolan at the airport -- Nolan who is like my brother and is an actor and is currently staying with us while he performs for the Croswell show this weekend --- anyway, yesterday, while driving to pick up Nolan at the airport, I hit a piece of drywall with a metal piece sticking up. I couldn't miss it; I was pinned in my traffic -- no where to go but straight. argh
Anyway, when I got to the airport I turned off the engine to check the car; as I did the car began to smoke. Someone nearby said that he smelled antifreeze, so as Nolan came out, we checked stuff; popped the hood and removed the radiator cap; added about a 1/2 gallon of water; drove to the nearest gas station; added antifreeze; limped the car home (50 miles away); and drove it to the garage.
The good news is this morning the garage called --- they can't find anything wrong with the car.
So who knows why it smoked yesterday and why we had to add water and antifreeze to the radiator. It has healed itself!
I wrote a symphony piece about driving --- I call it Morning Commute and every time I play it on Finale (Finale is the musical notation software program I use) the piece makes me laugh. I hear the traffic, the turn signal, the passing cars, the monotony of going the same way in the same way every day, the surprise of seeing something new. It ends with the car door closing and the key fob beep to lock the door. I want to hear it live, but I'm going to have to create a reason for someone to play it, so I guess I have to put it into a musical piece.
Finding a home for music that I write is a challenge.
Several years ago Michael and I wrote a piece as an auction item for very dear friends of ours --- the Toncres. It's called "You Are Everything to Me" and we actually have performed it several times -- for the Toncres, in an ASO concert, a Hillsdale Chorale concert, and we've sung the song at several weddings. But it still didn't have "a home" --- until last week when Michael and I realized it belongs in "Semi-Private" so I'm pleased.
One of the very first pieces I wrote as an adult didn't have a home for literally 30 years; so I deliberately worked it into "Jack and the Beanstalk." Now it's the cloud music as Jack is climbing the beanstalk.
Compositions need homes.
I've got to figure out a way to share "Morning Commute" with you. hmmmm. I suppose I could create a video.
Anyway, when I got to the airport I turned off the engine to check the car; as I did the car began to smoke. Someone nearby said that he smelled antifreeze, so as Nolan came out, we checked stuff; popped the hood and removed the radiator cap; added about a 1/2 gallon of water; drove to the nearest gas station; added antifreeze; limped the car home (50 miles away); and drove it to the garage.
The good news is this morning the garage called --- they can't find anything wrong with the car.
So who knows why it smoked yesterday and why we had to add water and antifreeze to the radiator. It has healed itself!
I wrote a symphony piece about driving --- I call it Morning Commute and every time I play it on Finale (Finale is the musical notation software program I use) the piece makes me laugh. I hear the traffic, the turn signal, the passing cars, the monotony of going the same way in the same way every day, the surprise of seeing something new. It ends with the car door closing and the key fob beep to lock the door. I want to hear it live, but I'm going to have to create a reason for someone to play it, so I guess I have to put it into a musical piece.
Finding a home for music that I write is a challenge.
Several years ago Michael and I wrote a piece as an auction item for very dear friends of ours --- the Toncres. It's called "You Are Everything to Me" and we actually have performed it several times -- for the Toncres, in an ASO concert, a Hillsdale Chorale concert, and we've sung the song at several weddings. But it still didn't have "a home" --- until last week when Michael and I realized it belongs in "Semi-Private" so I'm pleased.
One of the very first pieces I wrote as an adult didn't have a home for literally 30 years; so I deliberately worked it into "Jack and the Beanstalk." Now it's the cloud music as Jack is climbing the beanstalk.
Compositions need homes.
I've got to figure out a way to share "Morning Commute" with you. hmmmm. I suppose I could create a video.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Cleaning Up
This morning I sat at the computer first, so I had to put my glasses on. When I walked into the kitchen to fix breakfast I still had the glasses on and I could see just how dirty the stovetop was --- OMG!!!!!
The world looks so much better fuzzy!
Seeing the dirty stove reminded me of my mom. We (I) finally pushed her to have her cataracts removed when she cleaned her solid glass stove top so hard she took the burner markings off. She thought she was cleaning up a spill that had covered the markings. Mom was shocked when she finally had the cataracts removed. She had no idea how blind she had been. She told me she hadn't realized that her sofa had a pattern in it; she thought it was just blocks of color.
I lost my mother this time last year --- August 20th, 2010 --- to be exact. I miss her. She had a completely unique way of looking at the world; we teased about "the world according to Margaret." But it's true, and as I look back I realize that she taught me to "think out of the box."
Her passing really hit me hard. It had happened so fast and was completely unexpected --- and just 9 months after I lost my youngest brother to a heart attack which also happened so fast and was completely unexpected. Last year was a long story and I don't want to dwell on it; I am grateful to my family -- to my husband --- we all learned just how strong we can be together.
After my mother's passing, I was a wreck, very emotional, the world was very fuzzy, filled with too much clutter, emotions spilling over everything.
But Thank God for Leah. She knew what was going on for me --- she had just lost her dad two years before.
She said, "Betsy, I need you to write me some music."
So I wrote. I write best when I have a deadline and I had a deadline; Leah was coming to Adrian for a concert in February and I had to have the music ready for her.
I said to her, "it's going to be sad," and she said, "The sadder, the better."
So I wrote about my mom.
At first, the emotion was so raw that I couldn't get through any of the notes without sobbing. It's a good thing that most of the writing was me alone in the house with the cats.
But as I wrote, the composition took hold and began to have it's own life, as compositions do, and I found myself putting those emotions into beautiful patterns. I began to hear my mother's voice, not just my memories of what she "would" say, but what she DID say to me after losing her son, about what her world had come to. Now writing this to you --- I do NOT want you to think that my mom purposefully died. That's not the case. What we found out is that my mom had had a brain aneurysm for probably 30 years and had literally put the daily headache out of her mind everyday. Actually the headaches had subsided when she had her cataracts removed, so for the last couple of years she had been feeling better. But it was just her time. She couldn't stop the aneurysm anymore, and it took her.
Anyway, so I created the music; the piece; and the piece took all of that raw, fuzzy hot emotion and put it into patterns and swirls, beautiful notes.
And now I can play the music and think of my mother and not sob uncontrollably.
In fact, the "piece" is now part of a larger piece still in my head --- another musical to be written once "Obsession" has premiered. The new piece is called "Semi-Private" and takes place in a hospital room. But it's about family and loss and discovery -- but more about that later.
Nonetheless, I guess you can say I cleaned up. I put those emotions in a beautiful box and tied it with a bow --- a gift --- something to pull out and share with others. My mother was a gift.
That's what music does for me.
The world looks so much better fuzzy!
Seeing the dirty stove reminded me of my mom. We (I) finally pushed her to have her cataracts removed when she cleaned her solid glass stove top so hard she took the burner markings off. She thought she was cleaning up a spill that had covered the markings. Mom was shocked when she finally had the cataracts removed. She had no idea how blind she had been. She told me she hadn't realized that her sofa had a pattern in it; she thought it was just blocks of color.
I lost my mother this time last year --- August 20th, 2010 --- to be exact. I miss her. She had a completely unique way of looking at the world; we teased about "the world according to Margaret." But it's true, and as I look back I realize that she taught me to "think out of the box."
Her passing really hit me hard. It had happened so fast and was completely unexpected --- and just 9 months after I lost my youngest brother to a heart attack which also happened so fast and was completely unexpected. Last year was a long story and I don't want to dwell on it; I am grateful to my family -- to my husband --- we all learned just how strong we can be together.
After my mother's passing, I was a wreck, very emotional, the world was very fuzzy, filled with too much clutter, emotions spilling over everything.
But Thank God for Leah. She knew what was going on for me --- she had just lost her dad two years before.
She said, "Betsy, I need you to write me some music."
So I wrote. I write best when I have a deadline and I had a deadline; Leah was coming to Adrian for a concert in February and I had to have the music ready for her.
I said to her, "it's going to be sad," and she said, "The sadder, the better."
So I wrote about my mom.
At first, the emotion was so raw that I couldn't get through any of the notes without sobbing. It's a good thing that most of the writing was me alone in the house with the cats.
But as I wrote, the composition took hold and began to have it's own life, as compositions do, and I found myself putting those emotions into beautiful patterns. I began to hear my mother's voice, not just my memories of what she "would" say, but what she DID say to me after losing her son, about what her world had come to. Now writing this to you --- I do NOT want you to think that my mom purposefully died. That's not the case. What we found out is that my mom had had a brain aneurysm for probably 30 years and had literally put the daily headache out of her mind everyday. Actually the headaches had subsided when she had her cataracts removed, so for the last couple of years she had been feeling better. But it was just her time. She couldn't stop the aneurysm anymore, and it took her.
Anyway, so I created the music; the piece; and the piece took all of that raw, fuzzy hot emotion and put it into patterns and swirls, beautiful notes.
And now I can play the music and think of my mother and not sob uncontrollably.
In fact, the "piece" is now part of a larger piece still in my head --- another musical to be written once "Obsession" has premiered. The new piece is called "Semi-Private" and takes place in a hospital room. But it's about family and loss and discovery -- but more about that later.
Nonetheless, I guess you can say I cleaned up. I put those emotions in a beautiful box and tied it with a bow --- a gift --- something to pull out and share with others. My mother was a gift.
That's what music does for me.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Dropping Drew off at work
So I just got back from dropping Drew off at work. Drew is my son and today is his first day at his new job. His car is off limits until he and his buddy find the right pipe for his broken muffler, and his wife is at work, so I dropped him off.
I'm so excited about his new job because it brings a lot of his talents together --- first and foremost, my son, Drew, is a fabulous guitarist, great singer, all around excellent musician and performer. He should be; I started him out early, tapping rhythms out on my belly when I was pregnant. And of course he heard my music everyday because I was singing and playing the piano everyday.
But in today's world the joke:
"What do you call a guitarist that just broke up with his girlfriend? . . . Homeless"
is more true than funny.
So Drew, like lots of entertainers, waited tables. And Drew, like lots of entertainers, is a natural at teaching. So today he starts at LISD -- Lenawee (County) Intermediate School District -- as the culinary arts teaching assistant.
Food and music go hand in hand in our family.
I come from a family of really great cooks and so does Michael, my husband. We both love to cook, and Drew loves to cook, too.
In fact friends kid that the best time to come to my house to eat is when I've had a bad day because that means I'm chopping. I love the rhythm of chopping; the patterns; the feel of the knife and the satisfaction of looking at uniform pieces of onion or pepper or mushroom.
In "Jack and the Beanstalk" the giant's wife cooks up a meal for Jack, so of course, when I was translating the story into music I had to put in the chopping sounds. Now when I chop it's very steady and even, not too fast, not too slow, and, to be the most efficient, with as little extra movement as possible. So the first time we did "Jack" with the ASO (Adrian Symphony Orchestra) that's how the drummer played the beat.
But listening afterwards to the recording, I realized that although it was correct according to the actual sounds, it was a little boring. So for the performance we did with Davis High School, I added more syncopation to the beats. Hmmm. I'm still not sure if I like it; the piece is going to be performed again in January so that's one of the things I'll have to work on.
Next time I chop, I'll have to think about the music and decide how to fix it.
I'm so excited about his new job because it brings a lot of his talents together --- first and foremost, my son, Drew, is a fabulous guitarist, great singer, all around excellent musician and performer. He should be; I started him out early, tapping rhythms out on my belly when I was pregnant. And of course he heard my music everyday because I was singing and playing the piano everyday.
But in today's world the joke:
"What do you call a guitarist that just broke up with his girlfriend? . . . Homeless"
is more true than funny.
So Drew, like lots of entertainers, waited tables. And Drew, like lots of entertainers, is a natural at teaching. So today he starts at LISD -- Lenawee (County) Intermediate School District -- as the culinary arts teaching assistant.
Food and music go hand in hand in our family.
I come from a family of really great cooks and so does Michael, my husband. We both love to cook, and Drew loves to cook, too.
In fact friends kid that the best time to come to my house to eat is when I've had a bad day because that means I'm chopping. I love the rhythm of chopping; the patterns; the feel of the knife and the satisfaction of looking at uniform pieces of onion or pepper or mushroom.
In "Jack and the Beanstalk" the giant's wife cooks up a meal for Jack, so of course, when I was translating the story into music I had to put in the chopping sounds. Now when I chop it's very steady and even, not too fast, not too slow, and, to be the most efficient, with as little extra movement as possible. So the first time we did "Jack" with the ASO (Adrian Symphony Orchestra) that's how the drummer played the beat.
But listening afterwards to the recording, I realized that although it was correct according to the actual sounds, it was a little boring. So for the performance we did with Davis High School, I added more syncopation to the beats. Hmmm. I'm still not sure if I like it; the piece is going to be performed again in January so that's one of the things I'll have to work on.
Next time I chop, I'll have to think about the music and decide how to fix it.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Getting ready to publish
We are finally there --- the point where I stop messing with the notes --- okay well that's not completely true; I'm always messing with the notes. BUT, today I can begin to put the score together. I have to start today because I'm meeting with the music director on Thursday and I should hand the piano score to her.
So today, I begin.
The short story is I've been writing a show -- a musical -- with my husband, and it's going to premiere in November.
The long story is how I got to this place.
For a very long time I thought that everyone heard what I did; everyone had music hanging out in their head, singing along with the fan whirling or the wheels skimming across the pavement.
It wasn't until I was actually in the middle of writing one of our first pieces that was performed that I learned that I'm the only one hearing what I hear.
Quite a shock to me.
But that's a story for another day.
Today let me just say that I "formally" started music when I was four. We were living in Grand Rapids, MI, driving downtown, and there was a huge picture of a grand piano painted on the side of a brick building, all shiny black in contrast to the red brick surrounding what probably was an ad for a local store. And I said, "I want that." So my dad bought it for me. Well not the big shiny black grand, but a lovely piano nonetheless that my mom loved because "the wood was so pretty" and it was "french provincial". Only after they bought the piano did they find out that not every piano teacher would teach a 4 year old. But they found one. I don't remember his name --- and later on my mother told me he was a drunk and needed the money --- but I loved it all the same. I never complained about practicing, or going to lessons. And as soon as I learned "Blue Moon" probably when I was seven or eight --- you know "Da, Da Daahhh. Da, da-di-da-di-daaahhh." --- I played variations for hours and hours and hours after school.
Even then I was composing; but no one knew it or even paid attention --- well my dad did ---- sometimes. "Margaret!" he'd say to my mother. "Does she HAVE to play the piano now?"
I guess the lesson for new parents is "be careful what you wish for" and "think before you give them the noisy toy."
So today, I begin.
The short story is I've been writing a show -- a musical -- with my husband, and it's going to premiere in November.
The long story is how I got to this place.
For a very long time I thought that everyone heard what I did; everyone had music hanging out in their head, singing along with the fan whirling or the wheels skimming across the pavement.
It wasn't until I was actually in the middle of writing one of our first pieces that was performed that I learned that I'm the only one hearing what I hear.
Quite a shock to me.
But that's a story for another day.
Today let me just say that I "formally" started music when I was four. We were living in Grand Rapids, MI, driving downtown, and there was a huge picture of a grand piano painted on the side of a brick building, all shiny black in contrast to the red brick surrounding what probably was an ad for a local store. And I said, "I want that." So my dad bought it for me. Well not the big shiny black grand, but a lovely piano nonetheless that my mom loved because "the wood was so pretty" and it was "french provincial". Only after they bought the piano did they find out that not every piano teacher would teach a 4 year old. But they found one. I don't remember his name --- and later on my mother told me he was a drunk and needed the money --- but I loved it all the same. I never complained about practicing, or going to lessons. And as soon as I learned "Blue Moon" probably when I was seven or eight --- you know "Da, Da Daahhh. Da, da-di-da-di-daaahhh." --- I played variations for hours and hours and hours after school.
Even then I was composing; but no one knew it or even paid attention --- well my dad did ---- sometimes. "Margaret!" he'd say to my mother. "Does she HAVE to play the piano now?"
I guess the lesson for new parents is "be careful what you wish for" and "think before you give them the noisy toy."
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