school has been a bit frustrating. although fascinating and enjoyable (who knew how AMAZING the spaghetti western is...), sitting in class for five hours in the humid heat that even I think is too much has started to get to me. so, this evening, i dressed up in a new outfit and went on a date with myself. and what a wonderful, wonderful time it was.
i began my evening at le fate, where i chatted with andrea (the chef) and his girlfriend, as i was the only one in the restaurant right away (it was early for dinner- 7 pm.) i ordered the "french connection," a cocktail that is to die for and was incredibly refreshing considering my perpetual state of sweat. for dinner i had spinach gnocchi with pancetta, cream, parmesan, and speck followed by pate on fried bread that prompted me to immediately write in my notes, "this makes everything EVER better." an impression. as i was waiting for my food, andrea came out and sat next to me, explaining that he was taking his time in preparing my food so that i wouldn't eat fast and leave. as i waited for my therapy in the form of food, i did some writing of new things that have been in my head, and it was incredible to me how relaxing the whole atmosphere was.
the gnocchi was perfect in its simplicity, as i have found that all great italian food is. a few flavors that, when combined, create an exhileration unlike any other. the pieces of the dish were pronounced, yet came together in way that made me wonder why they had ever been apart. the textures, flavors, and colors seemed to match each other as if they were soulmates. and although the dish was made up of things that by tradition seem heavy, all together, with each ingredient's contribution, the whole thing was very light. it was as if i could taste the very composition of the sauce and the gnocchi, yet all together it worked as one complete food that wouldn't make sense any other way. what was even more enthralling and intriguing was that it tasted like something from my childhood- a raw and rich something one of my parents used to make me that resulted in my complete warmth and happiness. i felt like the critic in ratatouille minus the coffin-shaped body and perfected cynicism. the only way to capture this amazing creation in words? i scribbled down while eating that it was "like easter and love." i don't know, it made sense to me at the time.
the pate was unreal. although i wouldn't have spread it on fried bread, it was an interesting addition in terms of texture and flavor. it was heavenly and rich, and served with a grapefruit slice that offered nice acidity to cut through this potent thing of my most wonderful dreams. i found myself wondering if there was any way that the pate could be better, and concluding that i would never be the same after this gastronomic experience.
on to the rome chamber festival, which takes place once every summer over a two-week period. for the past two years, it's taken place in the oratorio del gonfalone, which has been described by many as a "miniature sistene chapel." frescos line the wall, and no amplification of any kind is needed- if i had spoken in a normal voice, the artists onstage could have heard me. we sat in pews lined with beautiful, golden cushions, and due to the small size, the intimacy was immediate and potent. i had bought a student ticket to the last concert of the first week, which included a jazz arrangement of "it ain't necessarily so," kreisler's praeludium and allegro (one of my favorite pieces to play and to listen to) and mozart's rondo in g major, all played by robert mcduffie on violin and elena matteucci on piano. they were subsequently joined by julie albers, a captivating and beautiful cellist, and the three played mendelssohn's piano trio no. 2 in c minor. this first half was laden with passion, and i'd forgotten how incredible it is to watch live musicians pour their heart through a piece of music not written by themselves. it was fascinating to note the styles of each- their facial expressions, body movements, and breathing patterns throughout the performance. at the close of the first half, i began to realize the difference between italian and american concert etiquette: although the audience clearly was enamoured by the performance and was shouting "bravo, brava" and clapping vigorously, no standing ovation was given. and after the musicians left the stage, this exhileration continued to bring them back out a second and third time- still no ovation. it was almost refreshing, as it seems that many americans will stand for even the most mundane of performances. after intermission (aka prosecco break) , we heard "original music derived from american traditions" written and performed by edgar meyer on bass and mike marshall on mandolin and mandola. this was such a joyous and cathartic experience- the two had obviously been working together for quite some time and were communicating with each other while playing in remarkable, subtle ways. i wished desperately to know how much of what they were doing was improvisation, as it seemed just like one of those fabulous theatre experiences during which you swear the actors could be performing whatever-it-may-be for the very first time in their lives. so spontaneous, so alive, so present. the songs, especially one entitled "early morning," were fascinating from the standpoint of composition. the choices made to go from one note to the next were creative in a way that was almost abstract. the way the two layered pieces of songs, supporting each other while having their own voice, was intricate and sophisticated without being overwhelming. after this performance, an ovation was finally given- by about only a third of the audience. i was grateful that this would be accepted as i was completely overwhelmed by what i'd just experienced. i stood, and tears rolled down my face as i smiled enough to pop every capillaries in my face.
i walked home along the tiber, where tents were set up for some sort of summer festival. underneath a cluster of coloured awnings, a group of couples danced the tango. i stopped to watch as i felt an overwhelming, yet contented sense of joy and appreciation for my life and the world. truly, this is "la dolce vita."
i began my evening at le fate, where i chatted with andrea (the chef) and his girlfriend, as i was the only one in the restaurant right away (it was early for dinner- 7 pm.) i ordered the "french connection," a cocktail that is to die for and was incredibly refreshing considering my perpetual state of sweat. for dinner i had spinach gnocchi with pancetta, cream, parmesan, and speck followed by pate on fried bread that prompted me to immediately write in my notes, "this makes everything EVER better." an impression. as i was waiting for my food, andrea came out and sat next to me, explaining that he was taking his time in preparing my food so that i wouldn't eat fast and leave. as i waited for my therapy in the form of food, i did some writing of new things that have been in my head, and it was incredible to me how relaxing the whole atmosphere was.
the gnocchi was perfect in its simplicity, as i have found that all great italian food is. a few flavors that, when combined, create an exhileration unlike any other. the pieces of the dish were pronounced, yet came together in way that made me wonder why they had ever been apart. the textures, flavors, and colors seemed to match each other as if they were soulmates. and although the dish was made up of things that by tradition seem heavy, all together, with each ingredient's contribution, the whole thing was very light. it was as if i could taste the very composition of the sauce and the gnocchi, yet all together it worked as one complete food that wouldn't make sense any other way. what was even more enthralling and intriguing was that it tasted like something from my childhood- a raw and rich something one of my parents used to make me that resulted in my complete warmth and happiness. i felt like the critic in ratatouille minus the coffin-shaped body and perfected cynicism. the only way to capture this amazing creation in words? i scribbled down while eating that it was "like easter and love." i don't know, it made sense to me at the time.
the pate was unreal. although i wouldn't have spread it on fried bread, it was an interesting addition in terms of texture and flavor. it was heavenly and rich, and served with a grapefruit slice that offered nice acidity to cut through this potent thing of my most wonderful dreams. i found myself wondering if there was any way that the pate could be better, and concluding that i would never be the same after this gastronomic experience.
on to the rome chamber festival, which takes place once every summer over a two-week period. for the past two years, it's taken place in the oratorio del gonfalone, which has been described by many as a "miniature sistene chapel." frescos line the wall, and no amplification of any kind is needed- if i had spoken in a normal voice, the artists onstage could have heard me. we sat in pews lined with beautiful, golden cushions, and due to the small size, the intimacy was immediate and potent. i had bought a student ticket to the last concert of the first week, which included a jazz arrangement of "it ain't necessarily so," kreisler's praeludium and allegro (one of my favorite pieces to play and to listen to) and mozart's rondo in g major, all played by robert mcduffie on violin and elena matteucci on piano. they were subsequently joined by julie albers, a captivating and beautiful cellist, and the three played mendelssohn's piano trio no. 2 in c minor. this first half was laden with passion, and i'd forgotten how incredible it is to watch live musicians pour their heart through a piece of music not written by themselves. it was fascinating to note the styles of each- their facial expressions, body movements, and breathing patterns throughout the performance. at the close of the first half, i began to realize the difference between italian and american concert etiquette: although the audience clearly was enamoured by the performance and was shouting "bravo, brava" and clapping vigorously, no standing ovation was given. and after the musicians left the stage, this exhileration continued to bring them back out a second and third time- still no ovation. it was almost refreshing, as it seems that many americans will stand for even the most mundane of performances. after intermission (aka prosecco break) , we heard "original music derived from american traditions" written and performed by edgar meyer on bass and mike marshall on mandolin and mandola. this was such a joyous and cathartic experience- the two had obviously been working together for quite some time and were communicating with each other while playing in remarkable, subtle ways. i wished desperately to know how much of what they were doing was improvisation, as it seemed just like one of those fabulous theatre experiences during which you swear the actors could be performing whatever-it-may-be for the very first time in their lives. so spontaneous, so alive, so present. the songs, especially one entitled "early morning," were fascinating from the standpoint of composition. the choices made to go from one note to the next were creative in a way that was almost abstract. the way the two layered pieces of songs, supporting each other while having their own voice, was intricate and sophisticated without being overwhelming. after this performance, an ovation was finally given- by about only a third of the audience. i was grateful that this would be accepted as i was completely overwhelmed by what i'd just experienced. i stood, and tears rolled down my face as i smiled enough to pop every capillaries in my face.
i walked home along the tiber, where tents were set up for some sort of summer festival. underneath a cluster of coloured awnings, a group of couples danced the tango. i stopped to watch as i felt an overwhelming, yet contented sense of joy and appreciation for my life and the world. truly, this is "la dolce vita."
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