A lot of you have been asking when I will start a new a cappella group. Well folks, the time has come. I'm pooling together singers for a brand-new group specialising in contemporary a cappella repertoire. I'm passionate about the stuff and it's my musical drug of choice. There is so much exciting new repertoire out there and I'm thinking of forming a group who are prepared to tackle anything experimental, exciting, new and different.
Basic requirements from my side
1 x 2 hour rehearsal in SE London per week to start off with.
Open mind/voice/attitude.
Some contemporary music experience would be fab, but not necessary.
Availability with prior arrangement for gigs.
That's all folks. If you have an up-for-it attitude and fancy a go at exploring some new repertoire drop me a line. Ideally looking for an 8-person (SSAATTBB) lineup.
geocham@aol.com / 07789 114918
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Thursday, 22 September 2011
An inner voice through outer expression?
Excited by: Tosca at Cadogan Hall this evening
Listening to: Different bits and bobs by Grainger
Listening to: Different bits and bobs by Grainger
Cups of coffee achieved: 1, regular.
"Sometimes in the past when I was going to perform a piece again I would listen to old recordings and try to reproduce the material. This time I realized that carrying around old information, trying to get everything in, and still be in the moment just doesn't work."
Meredith Monk
The compositional ethos of American composer Meredith Monk has always been of much musicological debate. Monk believes in teaching by ear and, despite many criticisms, maintains that the 'inner voice' of the music is so often lost when ink is put to paper and music is confined to the page. For this reason, Monk relies on a huge collection of recordings, videos, notes, sketches and her memory to recreate her most important works. For a safety of authenticity, she also largely limits the performance of her works to her beloved vocal ensemble - her closest musical allies, many of which have been working with her from the very beginnings of her career. By returning to works, some over 50 years old, her pieces often naturally evolve and develop over time – a product of the aural tradition she maintains at the centre of her pedagogical method. To what extent does Monk have to excavate the past to find that spark of originality and freshness that keeps us, as she would say, 'in the moment' of the present? As we move further into the 21st century, and Monk becomes more of a seminal figure in American 20th and 21st-century music, is there a fundamental conflict between developmental innovation through her performances and maintaining a compositional authenticity her most seminal works?
"Sometimes in the past when I was going to perform a piece again I would listen to old recordings and try to reproduce the material. This time I realized that carrying around old information, trying to get everything in, and still be in the moment just doesn't work."
Meredith Monk
The compositional ethos of American composer Meredith Monk has always been of much musicological debate. Monk believes in teaching by ear and, despite many criticisms, maintains that the 'inner voice' of the music is so often lost when ink is put to paper and music is confined to the page. For this reason, Monk relies on a huge collection of recordings, videos, notes, sketches and her memory to recreate her most important works. For a safety of authenticity, she also largely limits the performance of her works to her beloved vocal ensemble - her closest musical allies, many of which have been working with her from the very beginnings of her career. By returning to works, some over 50 years old, her pieces often naturally evolve and develop over time – a product of the aural tradition she maintains at the centre of her pedagogical method. To what extent does Monk have to excavate the past to find that spark of originality and freshness that keeps us, as she would say, 'in the moment' of the present? As we move further into the 21st century, and Monk becomes more of a seminal figure in American 20th and 21st-century music, is there a fundamental conflict between developmental innovation through her performances and maintaining a compositional authenticity her most seminal works?
It is a necessary and crucial part of a performers’ work making a piece their own. This is especially true in contemporary compositions and pieces not yet performed. Monk often composes for certain members of her vocal ensemble, and arias are tailored to specific voices. The composition of Monk’s work, in essence, is often unfinished without the performer. This is a statement not only true of Monk’s work, but of any composition written for a performer in mind. Each voice is unique, and this is something Monk understands more than any composer around today. Her compositional journey began when experimenting at the piano in the ‘60s. It was from here that she discovered the use of what we would describe as ‘extended techniques’ other than just singing. The term strikes fear in the hearts of Monk lovers as one of those terms so often used to describe contemporary composers’ style which is faintly beyond the norm. Monk’s vocal style is simply the way her voice and her compositions have developed; they are an extension of nothing but her own creativity, imagination and personal style of singing. Just as a bel canto singer would mature through teaching and practice, so Monk continually creates new ‘extensions’ to her voice through her experimenting at the piano and trying out new ideas with her vocal ensemble.
One of her most haunting works, Gotham Lullaby is a prime example of how text in Monk’s music develops through each performance. The example below shows text used by Monk in the opening phrase of the work in two separate recordings: Dolmen Music recording from 1980 and a live performance from Santa Fe in 2004.
1980 Dolmen Music recording
Lyrics: [weh(lala) tih] [wah ta nah neh nala sahnanananananana teh] [wah la la -, la la la la]
2004 Live performance
Lyrics: [wah lah so] [wah lah lah ley lah lah lah seh na na seh] [wah la la - , la la la la]
This is divided into three smaller sub phrases and as in every recording, phrasing usually never changes. Monk’s general contour of phrase structure and melody remains constant. Although aspects of the melodic line in Gotham Lullaby ebb and flow their way around a central ‘core’ phrasing structure, they never move too far away from a designated structure. The placement of stress on certain syllables also remains rather constant, giving us a sense of regular and recognisable phrasing. Constraint, in a very loose form, is certainly integral to the development of Monk’s work. It allows us to roughly sing along and recognise her charming, dreamy melodies whilst keeping her iconic works typically ‘Monk.’ Anyone can hum along to Gotham Lullaby, but an authentic performance can only be one given by the composer, or people who have directly been taught by her. Choosing text, or more the process of improvising on what syllables and sounds to use, is a paramount part of the performance within Monk’s compositions.
Text in general is a tricky issue when it comes to performing Monk. A select few of her choral works are now available through the publishers Boosey & Hawks. This is a brave move for Monk and one which could hugely affect the fundamental principles of performance she holds dear to her heart. Each score has been meticulously edited, extensive programme notes have been given and even recordings of certain sounds have been uploaded onto Monk’s website. To accompany learning from the page, Monk advocates listening to CDs and watching DVDs of all her published scores. In many ways, this is a fundamental part of the learning process. Another pedagogical problem rears its ugly head in written descriptions of how to make sounds with the voice which are not usually used within singing. Often a text-based description is needed, as standard music notation is unable to express all the timbral and expressive qualities of a certain sound or gesture. Once again, we find ourselves back to the problematic idea of the ‘extended technique.’ Often what can be recorded, played back and learnt within seconds takes lines and lines of overly-wordy descriptions and ambiguous programme notes. Monk writes her own concise and extremely helpful notes to accompany her scores. In my mind, this is an absolutely vital tool in the important pedagogical exchange of performance technique between composer and performer. Although not a live exchange of ideas and thoughts, this is the closest Monk can possibly get to teaching these works to choirs, and the fact that her choral music is getting out to the wider world can only be a good thing.
Monk sees her vocal development as a constant process of excavation. This implies a deep sense of personal history and principals in her work dating back to her first vocal experiments at the piano in the 60s. Of course, what Monk is aiming to ‘excavate’ is the new, the fresh, the original and that sound or gesture that can fully encapsulate a moment of emotion.
“By digging into my own voice I’m uncovering feelings and energies for which we don’t have words – it’s like shades of feeling, early human utterance, and essential human nature”
The use of full words in Monk’s work is very rare. It could be seen that her use of sounds is rather alienating to listeners and potential performers as her ‘sounds’ do not convey ideas as explicitly as language. In my view, this is quite the opposite. By not using a recognisable vernacular, Monk transcends her vocal works into a realm of universal understanding. No matter what language is spoken, it is possible to interpret Monk’s sounds however you wish and come to your own conclusions. This seems a rather primal way of seeing song as a method of absolute communication through music and sound alone. Monk’s ‘text’ (if we can call it that) is ruled by sound, and, as mentioned above, phrasing. The two intertwine organically into pieces that are most definitely recognisable, but are able to move through time and warp themselves into new and fresh versions through each performance. As a performer of her own music, which is usually at the keyboard, Monk is a master of pleasing both her regular and first-time listeners. Her compositional style allows iconic works to stay firmly within the minds of those in the know; what we listen to is what we expect it to be. However, at the same time, it is an exciting prospect to know that each time we do listen, there will be that certain something within the performance that makes it original. Monk is a Buddhist, and I’ve often thought that through her song performances she is searching for that ultimate moment; a musical enlightenment.
“To get to that authenticity, you really keep going down to the bone, to the honesty, and the inevitability of something”
One thing is sure – for Monk, composition is a pouring out of the heart and soul. It is far more than a cerebral process for process sake. I wonder what would happen if more composers dared to do such a thing and search for that deepest emotion, rather than deepest thought. Authenticity is its nature is the core truthfulness of origins. Monk’s music aims for a glorious outer expression of deep inner emotion, and for that reason her music is surely a beautiful example of artistic originality and integrity.
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Simple Pleasures
Excited by: Getting home to my flat after a manic Edinburgh week
Listening to: The Oxford Gargoyles' new album 'Flyin' Right'
Cups of coffee achieved: 3 train coffees, bleurgh.
Let's start with a joke...
'knock knock'
'who's there?'
'knock knock'
'who's there?'
'knock knock'
'who's there?'
.....
'Steve Reich'
I always remember when an old tutor of mine told me this. It's my standard musical geek joke to bring out at any minimalist gig. I was lucky enough to head out to the late night prom last Wednesday and see the stellar team that was Steve Reich, Mats Bergstrom, Rainer Romer, Ensemble Modern and Synergy Vocals. It was packed! There was an incredible sense of occasion with a great mix of prommers.
Thing is, from this gig and from the same programme I saw a couple of years back at the Fesitval Hall, I have come to learn a really important thing - for me, minimalism is such a great entry into the world of 'classical' music. I have to say I was always the one with my pencil tirelessly trying to figure out when semiquavers change to quavers, when the line is passed between instruments, when and why Reich changes the lines the way he does. As I lay in the arena of the Albert Hall (yes, many people were laying down. Very odd hearing Reich and seeing the huge UFO-like sound reflectors above you) I just closed my eyes and let everything wash over me. Suddenly I really got a sense that this music, especially 'Music for Eighteen Musicians', just works. I was engrossed, bedazzled and generally so impressed by the whole thing.
I have to admit - hearing 'Clapping Music' in the Albert Hall is a bit of a joke. Even the best of UFO-esque acoustic technology couldn't hide the fact that when heard closely it sounded like three people clapping due to the horrendous echo. But hey, what can we do? we're lumbered with the palace of hellish acoustics which is the Albert Hall, so I suppose we have to just accept that. 'Music for Eighteen Musicians', however worked a lot better, due to the bigger forces involved. No prizes for guessing the size of the ensemble. What makes this work simply magical is Reich's use of incredibly varied textures and timbres underpinned by a rhythmic drive which seems to saunter you along this beautiful musical journey. Something else Reich just seems to bask in is using voices as instruments as the incredible Synergy Vocals showed us. Synergy deliver the parts on mic with crystal clarity - they shine through but never overpower any of the other instruments.For Reich it seems, everyone is equal, and this produces such a refreshing sound. Every time I see Synergy, I just want to see them again and again. They are a real credit to contemporary vocal music. A wonderful wonderful ensemble
So my tip for this week? Have a listen to Music for Eighteen Musicians. Don't try and sit there analysing it, but just let it be the wonderfully crafted piece of music that it is.
Listening to: The Oxford Gargoyles' new album 'Flyin' Right'
Cups of coffee achieved: 3 train coffees, bleurgh.
Let's start with a joke...
'knock knock'
'who's there?'
'knock knock'
'who's there?'
'knock knock'
'who's there?'
.....
'Steve Reich'
I always remember when an old tutor of mine told me this. It's my standard musical geek joke to bring out at any minimalist gig. I was lucky enough to head out to the late night prom last Wednesday and see the stellar team that was Steve Reich, Mats Bergstrom, Rainer Romer, Ensemble Modern and Synergy Vocals. It was packed! There was an incredible sense of occasion with a great mix of prommers.
Thing is, from this gig and from the same programme I saw a couple of years back at the Fesitval Hall, I have come to learn a really important thing - for me, minimalism is such a great entry into the world of 'classical' music. I have to say I was always the one with my pencil tirelessly trying to figure out when semiquavers change to quavers, when the line is passed between instruments, when and why Reich changes the lines the way he does. As I lay in the arena of the Albert Hall (yes, many people were laying down. Very odd hearing Reich and seeing the huge UFO-like sound reflectors above you) I just closed my eyes and let everything wash over me. Suddenly I really got a sense that this music, especially 'Music for Eighteen Musicians', just works. I was engrossed, bedazzled and generally so impressed by the whole thing.
I have to admit - hearing 'Clapping Music' in the Albert Hall is a bit of a joke. Even the best of UFO-esque acoustic technology couldn't hide the fact that when heard closely it sounded like three people clapping due to the horrendous echo. But hey, what can we do? we're lumbered with the palace of hellish acoustics which is the Albert Hall, so I suppose we have to just accept that. 'Music for Eighteen Musicians', however worked a lot better, due to the bigger forces involved. No prizes for guessing the size of the ensemble. What makes this work simply magical is Reich's use of incredibly varied textures and timbres underpinned by a rhythmic drive which seems to saunter you along this beautiful musical journey. Something else Reich just seems to bask in is using voices as instruments as the incredible Synergy Vocals showed us. Synergy deliver the parts on mic with crystal clarity - they shine through but never overpower any of the other instruments.For Reich it seems, everyone is equal, and this produces such a refreshing sound. Every time I see Synergy, I just want to see them again and again. They are a real credit to contemporary vocal music. A wonderful wonderful ensemble
So my tip for this week? Have a listen to Music for Eighteen Musicians. Don't try and sit there analysing it, but just let it be the wonderfully crafted piece of music that it is.
Thursday, 21 July 2011
Certainly classical, hardly clubbing: Yellow Lounge London opening
Excited by: a very large gin and tonic
Listening to: Linda Hirst's recording of Berio's 'Sequenza III'
Cups of coffee achieved: 2, large but mellow...
Those who know me well know about my eclectic (some have described it more as ‘horrendous’) taste in music. From P. Diddy to Penderecki to Pergolesi, my ipod on shuffle is basically a prolonged session of musical schizophrenia. As a regular clubber in London and a lover of club culture, the idea of the new Yellow Lounge ‘classical music club’ night seemed perfect. This was supposed to encompass everything I believe in. I had grand visions of the Yellow Lounge freeing up classical music to the masses, dispelling elitism and of course helping good old Boulez with his most elegant suggestion of blowing up the opera houses. However, what I got was an incredible ‘classical’ concert, but a less than average ‘clubbing’ experience.
What the Yellow Lounge execells in doing is offering an informal platform for some of Universal’s most incredible classical artists. The sassy Danielle de Niese shined on stage last night, performing arias from her new (and highly recommended) CD ‘Beauty of the Baroque.’ Not only was she accompanied by a wonderfully fresh and dynamic consort, but she revelled in this informal setting quite simply beaming with enjoyment and enthusiasm for this repertoire. Bringing a sexiness to Baroque music is something I always think can be faux and sickly – it also troubles me seeing sopranos regularly stroking their cleavage on any slight mention of ‘dying’ and ‘torment.’ Danielle brings a cheekier and more playful side to the proceedings. Her wonderfully simple account of Dowland’s ‘Come again’ (you get the idea...) really showed that playing it cool often works wonders for sexual suggestion. All of her songs were packed full of high-octane energy, never faltering even with the background noise of chattering and the clinking of beer bottles.
As soon as Danielle had finished her wonderful performance we were treated to a DJ set accompanied by some ethereal video art which was, in a word ‘nice.’ Unfortunately that’s as far as I can go; having a drink, a sit down and a chit chat over this worked perfectly, but it was, after all, ethereal furniture music, just there as a background. Yellow Lounge is a bar culture, with an informal concert platform. To describe this as ‘clubbing’ is really quite misleading. Clubbing culture is all about the experience - the highs of having your body pulse to a bass beat; those indescribable moments of tension waiting for the beat to kick back in; manic dancing like there’s no tomorrow; the feeling of deafness as you leave the club and the world sounds like a different place; staying up till the early hours of the morning waiting for your favourite tune you’ve requested from the DJ... all these are part of the culture I love and that were all, sadly, missing. I obviously don’t expect people to be boogying on down to the latest Gabriel Prokofiev or requesting Ligeti remixes for their mates’ 21st birthday, but I don’t get how this can work, without it being a ‘turn up, listen quietly and leave’ affair – in other words, like any other concert you would go to needless of the setting.
I love the concept of Yellow Lounge and I was really hoping for something special. What I got was a little disappointing – maybe its because I enjoy clubbing so much. Just before I left around midnight, a guy spilt half his vodka and orange on me. Rather than freaking out about my white shirt being ruined, at that moment I smirked at a glimmer of the post-club activities I am so used to, and sauntered back home via my local kebab van. Classical ‘clubbing’ it wasn’t. A fabulous performance out of a concert-hall setting, it was. For now, I’ll stick to my regular haunts for my clubbing needs. For the habitual night-owl expecting an alternative clubbing experience, Yellow Lounge is currently a bit too clean, a bit too coy and to the average Joe, a bit too ‘classical.’
Monday, 27 June 2011
Flashmob revolution
Excited by: The fact Jessica Duchen posted about our little 'disturbance'
Listening to: Some dull documentary on surgical instruments
Cups of coffee achieved: 1, and no less than nine glasses of water, yes, nine.
The weekend has been baking hot. I'm currently waiting for this so called 'storm' that is supposed to be cooling us all down. Looking out of my window, it certainly isn't heading SW7 way in the near future. Yesterday I was so pleased to head into the fabulous St Alfege's church in Greenwich to sing various pieces by our wonderful home-grown Tallis including his mass-ive (heh) 'Spem in Alium' for 40 voices.
Post concert we braved the heat of the tube and headed to the British Museum where we did this:
The sound quality doesn't do it justice at all. The Englightenment Gallery really was a beautiful place to do it, and as the conductor Katie Hawks said:
"It was amazing singing such an incredible piece in such a special place. Perhaps it might remind our silent museums that music is very much part of enlightenment... Lots of people were bowled over by the experience."
I have to admit - generally I hate flashmobs. There is nothing worse than a glee-esque choir popping up singing Michael Jackson in your face. The Swingles' tube 'Soul Bossa Nova' flashmob still remains one of my favorites however, and their acting is nothing short of bafta worthy. They prove flashmobs, when done well, are a good laugh. Recently I saw a mob (hardly any 'flash' involved) of University a cappella students doing a cringe-worthy (anyone who hates a cappella terms turn away now) 'mash up' (apologies) of various songs on the Southbank. Not only was it sung badly; they ended up singing in a circle. Dull. I've got plans for a Meredith Monk, Berio and Ligeti to be introduced to the ever-growing canon. May this be the start of the flashmob revolution to bring some decent, well sung music to the public...
Listening to: Some dull documentary on surgical instruments
Cups of coffee achieved: 1, and no less than nine glasses of water, yes, nine.
The weekend has been baking hot. I'm currently waiting for this so called 'storm' that is supposed to be cooling us all down. Looking out of my window, it certainly isn't heading SW7 way in the near future. Yesterday I was so pleased to head into the fabulous St Alfege's church in Greenwich to sing various pieces by our wonderful home-grown Tallis including his mass-ive (heh) 'Spem in Alium' for 40 voices.
Post concert we braved the heat of the tube and headed to the British Museum where we did this:
The sound quality doesn't do it justice at all. The Englightenment Gallery really was a beautiful place to do it, and as the conductor Katie Hawks said:
"It was amazing singing such an incredible piece in such a special place. Perhaps it might remind our silent museums that music is very much part of enlightenment... Lots of people were bowled over by the experience."
I have to admit - generally I hate flashmobs. There is nothing worse than a glee-esque choir popping up singing Michael Jackson in your face. The Swingles' tube 'Soul Bossa Nova' flashmob still remains one of my favorites however, and their acting is nothing short of bafta worthy. They prove flashmobs, when done well, are a good laugh. Recently I saw a mob (hardly any 'flash' involved) of University a cappella students doing a cringe-worthy (anyone who hates a cappella terms turn away now) 'mash up' (apologies) of various songs on the Southbank. Not only was it sung badly; they ended up singing in a circle. Dull. I've got plans for a Meredith Monk, Berio and Ligeti to be introduced to the ever-growing canon. May this be the start of the flashmob revolution to bring some decent, well sung music to the public...
Saturday, 26 March 2011
My (eagerly awaited) Eurovision Top 5
Excited by: My tom yum soup bubbling downstairs
Listening to: Eurovision 2011
Cups of coffee achieved: 2 pots. Urgh.
I'll keep this short and sweet. Some stellar tracks this year, so here is my top 5:
5) ISRAEL - 'Ding Dong'. Yes, Dana international is back. This is no 'Diva', but it does the job. Also being the crazy Jewish tranny she is, she of course gets some fit shirtless men involved in the routine. Marvellous.
4) ESTONIA - 'Rockefella Street'. Don't ask me why. I like the way '1 2 celebrate... down the Rockefella Street' doesn't really rhyme.
3) BELARUS - 'I love Belarus'. Unfortunate verse, but just wait till you get to the chorus. Also the video is really something. Love it.
2) SWEDEN - 'Popular'. I especially like the 'X Files' style opening and the lyric 'stop don't say that it's impossible, cause i know it's possible'. Also the lead singer is BEAUTIFUL and has MOVES.
1) HUNGARY - 'What about my dreams'. For me, Hungary hasn't pulled out a corker since 'Unsubstantial Blues', which should have done a lot better. This little europop number gets my vote. LOVES IT.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
There's a lot of good in an old cock
Excited by: VFUK a cappellols next week with The Oxford Gargoyles - www.theoxfordgargoyles.co.uk available for births/deaths/marriages/parties/pissups etc
Listening to: Hera Bjork 'Je ne sais quoi', from Eurovision 2010 (Iceland)
Cups of coffee achieved: 4... hungover, post dinner party clearup
This one is for Lois 'Peaches Goyledof' Howarth as she said I should start a food blog. I write to you in pyjamas, snuggled up in the most ridiculous dressing gown known to man, well, potentially woman as its bright pink. My coffee cannot be strong enough and neither can my headache - my usual hangover relief cure of Eurovision songs and cola didn't work, strongly considering hair of the dog.
So, last night I did a dinner party for seven - my biggest dinner party number yet. I also managed everything single handedly, as my dear mum is still recovering from her broken arm she acquired during a drunken New Years Eve walk/stumble down Kentford high street, ha. Having never cooked for seven before, well, not in a 3-course 'lets get the special glasses out' situ, I was slightly worried, so did what any discerning cook does on such a grand occasion - cook 3 recipes i've never tried before, all whilst getting slowly pickled. My food along called for a bottle of red (for the coq au vin) and a significant measure brandy (for both the coq au vin and Quercyan apple cake) and by the time I had enjoyed cook's treats, another bottle of red was opened and the brandy bottle was chucked in the recycling. Oh well. Call it my tribute to Keith Floyd.
Both recipes actually came out rather well. This is after I had a huge paddy over the fact my weighing scales weren't weighing properly... every kitchen utensil suddenly was preceeded with an 'f', as my mum would say. My coq au vin recipe was a mixture of many i've seen. My favourite being John Torode's and the Two Fat Ladies who suggest marinading the chicken overnight in the wine. I decided to joint a whole chicken which I won't do again - the leg meat was beautifully tender, but the breast was a bit tough. Next time i'll use just thighs... or maybe legs. I'm really not a breast man.
My triumph, even though I nearly flung it across the room when I tripped over coming to the table, was my Two Fat Ladies Quercyan Apple cake or as my dad called it 'the sleeping cat' or 'turd'.
Essentially it is made by pulling out pastry till it is as thin as cigarette paper, and then plastering it with brandy, sugar, apples and all manner of wonderful things, rolling it all up, and twisting it up into the 'cat', 'turd', or 'snail shell' as i prefer to call it. I agree with Clarissa Dickson Wright that it is a labour of love - the pastry prep took around an hour, but it was bloody worth it. Yum. It turns into a kind of strudel type dessert, with alternating layers of buttery pastry and sweet apples, all of course doused in far too much brandy. Recommended to anyone wanting a 'wow' dessert. Unfortunately an 'after' picture doesn't exist, as the cooked cake didn't exist for more than about half an hour. Bless it. I'll certainly be making it again, and you can follow the fabulous Clarissa here on youtube telling you exactly how - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi2S_Y692KY I wonder if working scales would create such a great cake. We'll see when the new ones come next week... Funny how the scales got one ingredient in particular completely wrong... the brandy.
Listening to: Hera Bjork 'Je ne sais quoi', from Eurovision 2010 (Iceland)
Cups of coffee achieved: 4... hungover, post dinner party clearup
This one is for Lois 'Peaches Goyledof' Howarth as she said I should start a food blog. I write to you in pyjamas, snuggled up in the most ridiculous dressing gown known to man, well, potentially woman as its bright pink. My coffee cannot be strong enough and neither can my headache - my usual hangover relief cure of Eurovision songs and cola didn't work, strongly considering hair of the dog.
So, last night I did a dinner party for seven - my biggest dinner party number yet. I also managed everything single handedly, as my dear mum is still recovering from her broken arm she acquired during a drunken New Years Eve walk/stumble down Kentford high street, ha. Having never cooked for seven before, well, not in a 3-course 'lets get the special glasses out' situ, I was slightly worried, so did what any discerning cook does on such a grand occasion - cook 3 recipes i've never tried before, all whilst getting slowly pickled. My food along called for a bottle of red (for the coq au vin) and a significant measure brandy (for both the coq au vin and Quercyan apple cake) and by the time I had enjoyed cook's treats, another bottle of red was opened and the brandy bottle was chucked in the recycling. Oh well. Call it my tribute to Keith Floyd.
Both recipes actually came out rather well. This is after I had a huge paddy over the fact my weighing scales weren't weighing properly... every kitchen utensil suddenly was preceeded with an 'f', as my mum would say. My coq au vin recipe was a mixture of many i've seen. My favourite being John Torode's and the Two Fat Ladies who suggest marinading the chicken overnight in the wine. I decided to joint a whole chicken which I won't do again - the leg meat was beautifully tender, but the breast was a bit tough. Next time i'll use just thighs... or maybe legs. I'm really not a breast man.
My triumph, even though I nearly flung it across the room when I tripped over coming to the table, was my Two Fat Ladies Quercyan Apple cake or as my dad called it 'the sleeping cat' or 'turd'.
Essentially it is made by pulling out pastry till it is as thin as cigarette paper, and then plastering it with brandy, sugar, apples and all manner of wonderful things, rolling it all up, and twisting it up into the 'cat', 'turd', or 'snail shell' as i prefer to call it. I agree with Clarissa Dickson Wright that it is a labour of love - the pastry prep took around an hour, but it was bloody worth it. Yum. It turns into a kind of strudel type dessert, with alternating layers of buttery pastry and sweet apples, all of course doused in far too much brandy. Recommended to anyone wanting a 'wow' dessert. Unfortunately an 'after' picture doesn't exist, as the cooked cake didn't exist for more than about half an hour. Bless it. I'll certainly be making it again, and you can follow the fabulous Clarissa here on youtube telling you exactly how - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi2S_Y692KY I wonder if working scales would create such a great cake. We'll see when the new ones come next week... Funny how the scales got one ingredient in particular completely wrong... the brandy.
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