Dear Colleague,
Last night we had citrus chicken and roasted root vegetables (details below), while a cold winter rain confirmed our life at The Home for Wayward Muses in the Salmon Capital of North America.
The soundtrack for cooking was Couperin's Leçons de Ténèbres, performed by a group which contrasted the Catholic music with Arabic instrumental and vocal music between each lesson. Very interesting, and a bit shocking upon first hearing. So for me, a successful recording; it kept my attention through its duration.
The food was comforting and the weather was merely a light rain (and a balmy 34 F / 2 C) so the Couperin recording seemed more appropriate than Vivaldi's Opus 8, no. 4. And it was Boxing Day so some primal need from my childhood for sacred music at this time of year had made itself evident. But just thinking about that Vivaldi concerto got me thinking of the Rousseau arrangement of the Opus 8, no. 1 (Am I wrong in thinking it is one of your favorite encore pieces? Or is that the one piece that might send you to the dentist from the fierce grinding of your molars at the mere mention of it?).
Speaking of Couperin, and French music in general, I've been using Hotteterre's "Ornamented Airs and Brunettes" for beginning traverso students.
Why in the world would I do that, out of all the things that could be done? Well, the melodies themselves are not complicated, have a relatively small tessitura, and are short in duration. I have them practice the pieces sans agréments. They can then focus their attention on tone, breathing, and with people used to the modern flute, remembering the fingerings and embouchure position for notes such as F#, F-natural, and Bb, for example. Once we get the tone, breathing, and blowing issues sorted out, then the ornaments are introduced and then the dental grindstone (speaking of molars . . . ) of music making can begin.
After a few months of wading through the Airs & Brunettes, they start to get comfortable with playing the traverso, playing ornaments without losing time or an excess of air ("you're spewing again" is a regular idée fixe in the studio). Then I introduce them to Hotteterre's L'Art de Préluder. That gets them used to playing in more than one key, and really developing an intimate relationship with the traverso. Then we go for non-French music and they are amazed at how relaxed they feel when faced with passage work that extends over several bars, even one bar, and that 16th-notes seem downright slow by comparison to the seemingly endless supply of notes that must be played in the space of an 8th-note in the heretical Hotteterre and his annoying agréments (those feelings belong to the students, not me!).
To put the orthodontia to better use, here is the Boxing Day Repast:
Citrus Chicken
(adapted from Giada Delaurentis's recipe on the Food Network):
4 chicken breast halves (boneless, skinless)
1 each of lemon, lime, blood orange, thinly sliced
Dash of lemon, lime, or orange juice
Salt and pepper
Pre-heat oven to 400 F / 205 C
Braise chicken in olive oil in an oven-proof skillet/casserole or a Dutch/French oven until lightly browned on both sides.
Remove chicken from pan and line pan with a melange of the sliced citrus.
Place chicken on top of the citrus, season with salt and pepper, and place remaining citrus slices on top of the chicken. Pour the dash of juices around the rest of the pan.
Bake, covered, for 1 hour.
Serves 4-6
Roasted Root Vegetables
1 Rutabaga
3 Parsnips
1 Red garnet yam*
*(Almost any root vegetable may be used here; this is just what I had on hand last night)
Chop rutabaga into 3/4"-1" chunks
Similarly chop the parsnips
Cut yam in half then lengthwise down the middle, then cut those pieces in half again
Put in bowl, lightly coat with olive oil, then season with salt and pepper.
Lightly oil a baking pan and arrange vegetables on it, trying not to overlap or layer.
Bake at 400 F / 205 C for one hour or until the rutabagas are tender.
Serve in large platter with the citrus chicken and watch your hungry diners devour with glee, gusto, and a general sense of civilized voraciousness.
Pears in Red Wine (adapted from Lesley Mackley's The Book of Mediterranean Cooking)
4 whole pears (I prefer red)
3 cups red wine (temperanillo or a temperanillo/garnacha blend)
1 cinnamon stick
3 tablespoons sugar
Remove skin from the pears
In a saucepan large enough to hold the pears, heat the wine, cinnamon stick and sugar, on medium heat (but do not boil), and gently set the pears in the liquid.
Simmer, uncovered, 15-20 minutes, turning the pears once. Basting is welcome but not necessary.
Remove pears, turn up heat and reduce liquid to a syrup texture.
We like to serve the pears on a buckwheat waffle and a wee bit of vanilla ice cream. Pour the wine-syrup on top and add a small garnish of fresh mint leaves.
Follow with a wee dram of Edradour (where they "take it back to the old school" as we say) or a snifter of Cardenal Mendoza, (established 1781), and contemplate your next musical project.
Speaking of next projects, my next project will be to finalize in paper form the "10 Steps to Baroque Ornamentation" that I showed you on your last visit to Salmon Central. After the paper form is settled, the next step will be to make a video recording of the musical examples. Looks as if I'll be in for some dedicated practice on the "Gavotte de Corelli" by Monsiuer Blavet. [And how did that little gem not make its way onto your Blavet recording?]
Until the next time,
I remain,
y.m.h.& o.s.,
quantzalcoatl