in britannia

So I had dinner at Henrietta's Table with my mom and two of my mom's friends from college, one of whom brought along her husband and two kids. It's such a gas to think that in x-number of years, some of my friends from college and I will get together and act just as strange and reminisce in front of our (god forbid) kids and scare them with stories. I made great friends in college, and it is always a treat to see them and talk about our formative years at America's top university.

I'd like to say for the record, while I'm on the topic, that the dart-throwing nudniks of US News and World Report should be ashamed of themselves for hyping schools based on the most ridiculous of criteria (alumni giving rate?) and pretending that their rankings are objective. No newsweekly, no, not even this newsweekly, can choose a college for you. Think for yourself and don't buy into the hype. Interestingly, I don't think I have ever seen anyone actually read a non-ranking-touting special edition of US News and World Report. Why don't they just give up on the actual reporting and simply acknowledge that they exist to release the yearly rankings of America's Top __fill_in_blank__?

But anyway, it's been a long time since I've had a good gazpacho (how's that for a segue?). The last one I tried was from Olive's in Princeton, NJ. The chunks were chunks, the liquid portion of the soup was not soup, it was tomato run-off, and the whole thing tasted like a Minnesotan attempt at salsa: no spice, no kick, no melding of flavor: just a super-watery salsa. Tonight, I ordered a delicious gazpacho with a hint of jalapeño: it was delicious and refreshing on a hot and gross day such as today. Dinner was a lamb shank with a sherry mushroom sauce. This sucker just fell off the bone the minute I even approached with a fork. My only complaint would have been that the lamb was so delicate that the delicious gaminess of the lamb was gone and I just as easily could have been eating pork or veal. Still, it was an excellent meal.

Which is why I'm so bummed that I have to get a CAT scan tomorrow (again, how's *that* segue?). No, I'm not telling you what it's for, or anything like that. Just to say that I've been drinking this barium sulfate suspension smoothie and it's GROSS. Absolutely foul, and it ruined the lingering memories of a wonderful dinner. This stuff has hints of almond (not bad). It's also got the tang vaguely reminiscent of, perhaps, limeade (again, not bad). Unfortunately, almonds do not belong in limeade, nor limes anywhere near almonds. The whole concoction has, making matters just *that* much worse, the consistency of glue. So no, I'm not happy. And I'm certainly not looking forward to drinking another two 450mL bottles of it tomorrow. ...on an empty stomach.

So I was on Limewire looking up some songs. I don't usually try for classical music, since I'm never sure of the quality and I like to know who's playing the music. However, I was possessed momentarily and looked up "Pachelbell", thinking that I would find the ubiquitous canon in D. I was looking for variations on the theme: canon played on various instruments, or in a techno remix, or something. What I found were the following entries: "Bach - Pachelbell's Canon in D", and the "canon in d minor". Also, the "Mozart - Canon in D Wedding Song", and then finally, "Pacabel - Cannon in D".

That's just too depressing for words.

I think I'm on a Pachelbell kick b/c I'm going to NYC for another cousin's wedding tomorrow.

Yesterday, restaurant week brought my family to Mantra, an Indian-French fusion in downtown Boston. It was interesting: we had been before, last year, and had been struck by the elegance and innovation of the dishes. I still recall my meal last year: grilled watermelon, goat cheese and arugula salad, followed by dover sole lightly poached, with a raw coconut milk and curry sauce. This year, the dishes were still full of flavor, but the creativity was missing. My dishes and my father's came with wine: we ordered the wine pairings as well.

I started out with an artichoke and red bell pepper salad, which contained no discernable artichoke. Rather, the artichoke had been replaced by grilled asparagus, which was lovely, but not what I was in the mood for. Accompanied by a Prosecco Brut, this was more of a safe dish: tasty, but devoid of creativity. This was hardly an Indian-French dish. The entree was a seared salmon with sauteed mustard greens and a red peper coulis, served with what tasted like saffron-basmati rice. The red pepper coulis tasted of cumin and garlic, and lent the dish some much-needed spice. The salmon was very nicely cooked (medium-rare, according to our obsequious waitress: recommended by the chef), and the entire dish was put together quite well. This was complemented by an Australian Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc, which cut through some of the oily taste of the fish. Finally, a chocolate mousse dome which, interestingly, was served in the shape of a pyramid. A weak sauce of grand marnier and candied kumquats was spread on the plate: a better result might have been gained by watering down a jar of mass-produced orange marmalade. Again, this was hardly adventuresome, especially when served with a mini chocolate martini which tasted more like a boozy milkshake, devoid of actual chocolate flavor. I was underwhelmed by my choices. Thankfully, the other members of my family ordered other dishes.

The chilled carrot and saffron soup was spicy and intense: it tasted of ginger and was both refreshing and intriguing. That it was matched with the same Prosecco Brut that my appetizer was seemed more of a cop-out than a conscious pairing. The last appetizer was a roasted duck salad with a kumquat vinaigrette. The duck was overdone and underseasoned, but the vinaigrette was acceptable. On the menu, this was also to be matched with the Prosecco Brut. Instead, my father was served a kir royale, which was a much better match. Both of my parents tried the roasted sirloin entree, served with asparagus and spiced ginger jus. This was outstanding: the sirloin was perfectly cooked to a buttery and very flavorful rare. The mashed potatos and ginger jus were wonderful additions to this dish. Pairing this with a nice 2003 Australian Shiraz was very effective and quite delicious. However, my brother's potato chaat was really the most daring dish. This contained, over a base of curry spiced potatoes, apples and chickpeas, and floated on a yogurt and mint chutney. This was elegant, flavorful, and unique: it seemed that every other dish served on the restaurant week menu could have been served somewhere else except for the chilled soup and the potato chaat. The other dessert on the menu was a lemon tart on a hazelnut crust, served with fresh vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, a lemon tart is supposed to taste of lemons and not of a cloyingly sweet eggy custard. This was, supposedly, served with a lemon chili sauce, which I could not taste. This was served with a mini hazelnut martini, in which one could detect almond as well. This was good, but not too good. Overall, I was unimpressed.

Which brings up the allure of Mantra in the first place. Zagat mentions a "hipper-than-thou" attitude, which was certainly present last year. This year, the lights were turned up brighter and the clientele seemed much older. Mantra still has the first hookah lounge in Boston, but it is no longer the toast of the town it had been in 2000, its debut year. Executive chef Thomas John left the restaurant last month, leaving two Mantra regulars promoted to chef and chef de cuisine. It is clear that the daring is gone, though hopefully when Chefs Quinones and Carolan find their footing, they will begin to experiment again. Chef John, on the other hand, is now the executive chef of Au Bon Pain, hardly noted for its innovative recipes and haute cuisine. This is an interesting move, but it did not serve this particular outing well.

On a completely different note, I helped my friend Diana move yesterday. It was a bad move to push extra hard at the gym the day before, as I was extremely when I rolled up for the move at 9:30 AM. This morning, I was in even worse condition. I'd like to say that, as fond as I was of her old place (it had character and a certain dumpy style), this new apartment is a gorgeously lit corner apartment. Someone's moving up in the world... :)

http://www.ucomics.com/boondocks/2004/08/25/
We always knew he was trouble...

Also, happy belated birthday to my friend Claudia - it was technically two days ago, but I kinda forgot yesterday, and it's now past midnight today, er, yesterday. Anyway, happy birthday, and good luck to you in the music department. :)

Incidentally, Mr. Russell is from Florida, which announced today a promotion by Krispy Kreme doughnuts in which elementary school students in West Palm Beach will receive a free doughnut for every 'A' found on their report cards. What fun! Now we can study and get fat all at the same time. Of Krispy Kreme's 30 varieties of doughnut found on its nutritional information, the highest caloric content is 350 (The Chocolate Iced Kreme Filled *and* the Caramel Kreme Crunch), while the lowest, 200, would be the Original Glazed and the Sugar doughnuts. The average caloric content of all of these is a whopping 284. For each A you get on your report card, the reward is a fried and then sugar-coated and possibly sugar-filled fried dough puff. Insane.

And for another bit of trivia, an ex-girlfriend of mine is from Winston-Salem, NC, the home of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I am from Boston, the home of Dunkin' Donuts. We had a few arguments as to the relative merits of our hometown dough puffs. As you can infer, we are no longer dating...

So Boston's restaurant week is rolling through, and my family has decided to take full advantage. It's seriously good business for the restauranteurs, but it's even better for the residents. I mean, $30.04 for a three course dinner where a few appetizers and drinks could run you more than that is a fantastic deal. Tonight's sampling: Fleming's, a self-proclaimed "prime steakhouse & wine bar".

So as we're seated, we get both the restaurant week menu and the regularly priced menu. And the reserve wine list, from which I can get a bottle for as low as $87 or as much as $395. We tried everything on the restaurant week menu. It was truly very very good. Their house salad was fresh and flavorful, with bright hits of bitter greens and sweet candied walnuts. Unfortunately, the caesar was not up to par: it was over-dressed, and the dressing was so heavy on the anchovies that I had a hard time tasting the romaine. As for entrees: the Filet Mignon was buttery tender, though, like most filets, it lacked real flavor. The" Salmon Oscar" topped with crabmeat was outstanding, though honestly, the salmon seemed a bit overcooked. The double thick pork chop was served with a delicious julienne of apples and celery root. Unfortunately, it was overcooked in the center - what was very tender and juicy on the outside had become a tightly packed and rather dry mass of protein on the inside. The chicken breast had been marinated in fresh herbs and was servied in a white wine, mushroom, shallot and thyme sauce. The herbage and wine gave the dish a real kick - overall it was excellent. These were accompanied by side-dishes served family-style. The house potato gratin benefitted from a delicious hit of jalapeno, the creamed spinach, a steakhouse staple, was rich and, well, creamy. With added parmesan cheese, this could have been a dip for pita or corn chips. Finally, asparagus served with hollandaise sauce was delicious - I love asparagus, and this was wonderful.

For dessert, we were treated to a Chocolate Lave (sic) Cake with vanilla ice cream sprinkled with caramel sauce and pistacio nuts. Heavenly. This was truly a wonderful meal, but we're definitely not done yet.

By the way, for those out there who are just tuning in and aren't going to read back as far as the genesis of the blog, this little experiment in self-expression began as a medium for communication with my P. school students. I'd heard enough "please email us to let us know what you're up to" to know that I'd be sending out mass emails for the next few years. So I started this to communicate with my friends and students. It's grown somewhat, to include my friends from Princeton or elsewhere. Please feel free to email me or comment.

So I went to two concerts on back-to-back days this weekend. Sunday afternoon was the Tanglewood Music Center Orchestra (all students) performing Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4 and Mahler's Symphony No. 1. Yesterday evening was the Boston Pops Esplanade Orchestra playing the so-called hits from Broadway.

Thank goodness the Sunday afternoon concert was relatively booked. The Tanglewood season has been, for the last three years or so, alarmingly undersold. Evidently, even some of the vendors in the area: the restauranteurs and the bed and breakfast owners are getting together to talk to the Boston Symphony Organization to ask that they play less weird new stuff and possibly get better attendance. The TMCO did a valiant job with the Mahler - it's not an easy piece to play. However, the first movement was very disjointed. All of the falling fourths (the motif prevalent throughout the movement) were played differently by each instrumentalist, rather than striving for a unified vision. There were some pitch issues also in the first and second movements. Of course, the strings did a nice job of pulling their act back together by the third movement, and the fourth movement was about as exciting as it could have been. There was something missing: usually when a student orchestra plays something and isn't technically up to snuff, an audience member can still detect a passion for the music: an excitement or joy in the playing. Until the last few minutes of the last movement, there was no excitement or joy in the orchestra, particularly not in the string section, which seemed languid, even in its moments of technical proficiency. The Beethoven, to be sure, was excellent, but I was listening to the soloist more than I was paying attention to the orchestra.

As a contrast to the TMCO concert, the Pops show last night was relatively exciting: the orchestra, all professionals, were able to keep their dislike of the broadway music from showing through. Vocal soloist Kristen Chenoweth was everything she was billed to be: a loud brassy and ultimately successful broadway soprano. She was amusing as she chatted with the audience with a relatively easy banter. Her middle and low range were able to carry through the hall, supremely amplified as they were by her microphone and some of the best live audio folks in the world. However, she seemed to suffer on those high notes which, though ultimately in her range, were a bit too high tonight. The Boston Pops were much more successful when allowed to shine as an orchestra: without their soloist, they were exciting, fresh, and (as I put it after the concert), it was almost like they were playing real music. So I'm a bit of a snob: nothing new here, right? As we left, someone behind me was telling her husband: "Look how well they sell out the Pops concerts: they should do these here more often." I shudder.

I won't get any results, but I would like to say that I am sick and tired of NBC sportscasters referring to the Greek hero Hercules. Hercules was NOT a Greek hero - Hercules was the Roman equivalent of said Greek hero, pronounced Heracles. While we're on the subject of NBC sportscasters being stupid, let's just say that they keep making really stupid mistakes. Just like people who are stupid.

Ladies and gentlemen, today is National Punctuation Day! An entire day to recognize the great contributions which punctuation has made in the development of English grammar. As someone who rarely uses punctuation correctly, I will take this day as a call to action.

An admission and a request: To those of you from Princeton who got my change of address email, I would like to say that I screwed up. I left all of the names in the blind carbon copy column rather than the carbon copy column. And owing to my personal incompetence, I can't seem to dig up the list of people who received the email. Suspicious, since I was the one who sent the email - the outgoing email is nowhere to be found. Anyhow, if you've gotten an email, are checking my blog, and feel like helping me out, please email me on my Tigernet account (those of you to whom this statement applies know what to do) to let me know who you are. I have a vague idea of who was on that list, but I can't know for sure, and since I'm going to be emailing you again, please email me to tell me that I emailed you so that I can email you later. For sure that's a real sentence.

Anyway, I'm out of NJ for good now. I can now look back on my seven years in the Garden State and laugh. And then get the heck on with my life. :)

I have a college room! I don't know where it is in the college, since it hasn't been assigned yet. However, I do indeed have a guarantee of a room within Keble College somewhere.
Wow - what a huge weight off of my shoulders.

For three years, I have prided myself on being one of the more tech-savvy members of the P. school faculty. I don't know if that's actually been the case, but I was one of the first to put up a website, assign worksheets online, and post student work. I had figured that the use of powerpoint was an innovation that my generation of teachers could bring to the classroom. When I told my mom what I was doing, she said that teachers for hundreds of years had gotten by without powerpoint, and that my attempts to teach with computers was mere reinvention of the wheel. Only in my second year did I realize that my reliance on computers was masking something deeper: an inability to deliver a coherent chalkboard lecture. With the help of my mentor, Mrs. K., I was able to overcome this deficiency, but I maintained my affection for powerpoint assisted lectures and online learning.

Well, that's all changing now. Five minutes ago, I handed in my P. school supplied Dell Lattitude computer. I was extremely reluctant to accept their Dell, as I have been a Macintosh user for my entire life. I will say that in the one year I used the Dell, it was a decent machine: it was relatively fast, powerful, and only twice did it crash and lose everything. So here's to my (former) Dell Lattitude. That said, it's already aged quite a lot this past year: it's already too slow to handle certain functions, and its software is kind of out of whack. So here's also to whoever inherits that computer: may you take care of it well, and may it take care of you well.

My time in New Jersey is ticking away very quickly now. As of tomorrow, my P. school email address won't work, and I'm leaving for good on Saturday morning. The days when the title of this blog, in britannia, will be accurate are coming into being very soon.

I discovered that the someone across the street from me has a wireless network up that is completely and totally unsecured. This makes me lucky, and that person stupid. However, I find that I cannot access the network at peak hours, if only because my antenna is so bad that I can only squeeze out 1 or 2 mbps, rather than the 54 that I am capable of. Such is life, I suppose.

I've been watching the Olympics and I must say that it is truly touching to see the American flag rise up over all of the other ones. I am also truly proud to be a citizen of the country that brought the world Olympic beach volleyball, which is not so much a sport as it is borderline soft-core pornography. As one of my friends put it in an IM chat: "yeah, it was distracting though. i mean, i'm a straight woman & still found myself watching their stomachs more than their playing". A sports commentator on NPR was saying this morning that beach volleyball is his favorite sport to watch in the Olympics. I mean, they look really good, but I'd prefer to be able to concentrate on the skills rather than their bodies. Interestingly, I was also watching the gymnastics team competitions yesterday and today. I was struck by the fact that the women were wearing makeup. What kind of bizarre sport asks its competitors to wear makeup before competing? Creepy...

I'm finishing up tutoring for the summer: it's been great, and I wish all students the best as they head back to school in less than a month. Good luck especially to those leaving the safety and sanctity of the P. school as they head off to college. I'm leaving NJ on Saturday, never to return again (or at least, not in the near future), and will be spending the next month in Boston. I'll leave for England sometime in late September (if I receive a college room, then in October, if I don't and have to look for my own housing alternatives, then late September). It's so depressing not knowing where I'll be living...

I was really impressed with the opening salvo of the Olympic Games from Athens tonight. The respect and homage paid to the history of Greek culture, art, architecture, and sculpture was a truly stirring tribute. It's cheesy, but it's times like these when the world takes notice of the importance of Classical Civilizations that I am proud to have been a Classics major. Not for movies like Troy, or the upcoming Alexander the Great quasi-epic, of course. But when the Minoan Snake Goddess gets international press coverage, I'm pretty stoked. Most impressive was the Cycladic head breaking apart to reveal the kouros statue, which then broke apart even further to reveal the Greek sculpture of the Athenian 5th century. My grandfather had offered, four years ago, and probably jokingly, to take me to Athens. I'm kinda bummed I never followed up on that offer. Seeing all of those shots of Athens, the Temple of Poseidon at Aegina, the Parthenon itself all makes me miss the summer I spent travelling through southern Europe. Perhaps my upcoming six-week semester breaks might be the opportunity I need to do it all again... :)

On a different note, I saw my brother's white-coat ceremony today at UMDNJ. It's amazing how professional he looks with his coat and his stethescope. I don't say it nearly enough, but I am so proud of him - he's going to make an amazing physician someday.

As I was leaving my pupil's house yesterday (I've been tutoring this summer), I was stung by a yellowjacket. I haven't been stung by a bee in ages (probably at least ten years), so I was completely unprepared for the pain and stinging sensation which accompanies one of these suckers. I had just stepped out of their gate when a particularly angry insect landed on my neck and let me have it. Now I've got a nice sized welt on the back of my neck.

Got sucked into the Joe Schmo 2 marathon on Spike TV on Tuesday. I'm so ashamed of myself, but it's seriously funny programming. It's distracting when you're trying to study Greek, though.

Speaking of that Greek, I've regained most of my Greek skill, though I don't know how accurate my translations will be when I'm under pressure in a classroom or tutorial. My friend was supposed to help me prep by reading Greek with me this summer, but she's been incomunicado and has bailed on me for the last time. It's too bad; she's a great person and a top-notch scholar. But she's just not as reliable as I'd have hoped.

My brother's white-coat ceremony is tomorrow; I can't believe I'm actually going to see him in a white doctor's coat. I'm proud of him, but that's really creepy too...

Saw P. school graduate Noah as he was tooling down Rt. 78 in his Saab. Let's all bow our heads and pray for his safety, as he is headed to New Haven in the fall and may not make it out alive. :)

Oh wow... Just got back from a dinner with a few folks from the P. school: faculty like I used to be. Went to Spain 92 on Rte. 202. I'd gone there twice before: once for a party and second for my birthday last year. I knew that the food was fantastic, but tonight's meal was unbelieveable. I am far too full for my own good: we started with two appetizers, chorizo and shrimp, both of which were fantastic. Then the truly outstanding lobster special, which was a lobster stuffed with seafood and rice. It was incredible. The lobster was cooked to perfection; the claws were succulent and juicy, the tail was delicious, if a little on the rubbery side. The stuffing was this intensely flavorful mixture of what must have been crabmeat and rice, and a good amount of some spices that I couldn't make out. The drawn butter was tasty but ultimately unnecessary, since there was so much flavor in the lobster itself. The four of us finished off two pitchers of an excellent and very refreshing sangria, and headed for dessert: a flan, a crema catalonia, and an out-of-place, but much-craved-for slice of cheesecake. I was bowled over: I'm very happy right now. Now, I know what you're thinking; how can P. school teachers afford to go out for lobster dinners? It's just that I won't be eating for the next two days. But it was worth it.

Have you ever looked at the list of ingredients on a bottle of dasani water?
1) Purified water
2) why is there a number 2 ingredient?!? What idiot at company headquarters tasted purified water and said, "I think we can make this taste more like water?"
2) Magnesium sulfate
3) Potassium chloride
4) Salt*
* Adds a negligible amount of sodium. (I swear, this disclaimer was taken right off of the bottle)

Have you ever tasted something and said "needs more potassium chloride." I suppose I should be thankful that Dasani is actually admitting that there's something else in their water besides water, but in this instance, knowing isn't half the battle. It's gross. Also, how does salt add a negligible amount of sodium without there being a negligible amount of salt? The fact that there are 0mg of sodium printed on the label means that there are 0mg OF SODIUM IN THE WATER! Except that someone, in their infinite wisdom decided to put enough salt to list in the ingredients, but not enough salt to list in the sodium intake column. And I don't even want to know what Magnesium sulfate does for me, or my water.

*sigh*
So I got a speeding ticket today in Bridgewater. It's been eating me up inside all day, since I'm both quite annoyed and also worried that my insurance rates will be sky-high. This cop claims that I was going 44MPH in a 25 zone. I don't believe him, as my needle read 38-ish, but that's not what infuriates me. There are a lot of people on that road, many of whom are in excess of 40 MPH. The vast majority of them do not get caught, which bothers the parents who live on this very residential road (with good reason!). So every now and then, the Bridgewater police sit illegally in cross streets and try to slow the traffic down. It would merely deter people if the police were to sit in the streets, since the mere presence of a cop car is usually enough to slow people down. But instead, they hide in nooks and crannies and wait for an opportunity to make some money.

This officer also pulled in back of me and did nothing for about 5 seconds before flashing the lights: I think that he was noticing that I had an out-of-state licence plate (Massachusetts) and would therefore be less likely to appeal in court. It's a $101 fine, and a four-point bump in New Jersey. I'm actually not sure if that transfers over onto my Massachusetts record or insurance cost, but I'm not taking any chances. If anyone knows an insurance agent who might know if New Jersey points are applied to out-of-state licence holders, please email me and let me know, or comment on this posting.

My brother just moved down to New Jersey: he's off to medical school, which starts tomorrow. He's got 'net access, cable TV, and a landline as of this afternoon, which is nice. He does not, however, have a dishwasher, which is causing him some concern. It's mainly that he's lazy, I think, but he's been living at home this past year and isn't really used to, y'know, washing dishes by hand. I did it for three years: I think he'll survive, but my mom is also a bit worried that he has to wash his dishes by himself... poor kid...

He did, unfortunately, pull something in his back while he was loading up the truck. I feel really bad for him, since it's tough to move when your back is out. He woke up on Monday morning (after a late night which included the Ozawa Hall concert) and found that he just couldn't move. Thankfully, one of our friends in New York City (whose wife and daughter were up at the Ozawa Hall concert the night before) is a specialist in chronic pain, in addition to being on faculty at Cornell Med. School. So Dr. N. was able to prescribe something for Andrew and he was on his way in a few hours. Thankfully, he's moved in now and all seems to be well. But I really do hope that he doesn't strain himself any more. I hurt myself playing ultimate frisbee with a group of 8th graders a few years ago jumping up to catch a pass (I landed wrong). There have been times that I couldn't stand, and times that it took a lot of advil to get to school. On more than one occasion, I have taught from a desk and chair because I couldn't write on the board. Chronic pain sucks.

So the Swiss government is pouring its resources into manufacturing a wooden postage stamp. First the knives, now the stamps.

Went to New York City on Tuesday to try to see Much Ado About Nothing, this year's Public Theater in the Park selection. It got great reviews and I was intrigued by the prospect of seeing Jimmy Smits and Sam Watterston playing Shakespearean characters. Plus, Much Ado is one of my favorite plays (it's just so silly and vibrant). But alas, 'twas not to be. So if one wishes to see the play, one must line up to get a ticket. Tickets are free of charge and are handed out at the Delacorte Theater at 1pm. The trick, of course, is to get in line before 1pm to ensure that you get a ticket before they run out. I arrived at the Delacorte at 10:30 to find a line almost a mile long. That is, there were enough beach blankets and such to make the line a mile long, since no one wants to be as close to each other for three or so hours as they are when standing in line. So I trudged myself to the end of the line and watched it continue to grow for the next two hours. To make a long story short, the last person to get a ticket got in line at 9:15, a full 75 minutes before I arrived. The first person to get a ticket (the first person in line, naturally), had been there since 5:30 am. This is ridiculous, but at the very least, I am heartened by the fact that so many people care so much so as to wait in line for Shakespeare tickets.

On a related note, the parks police were eyeing the line with some concern, and the managing director from the theater came out to let us know that, from our position halfway back in the line (yes, HALFWAY!), chances for tickets were slim and that the parks police were worried about the possibility of a riot. Who's going to riot? We were in line for Shakespeare tickets. Oh well.

So I had dinner with these friends from NYC. We went out to Flushing with my Dad who was in New York on business. It was nice to have dinner with them; they've come up to Tanglewood, like, four times this past month. We went to an excellent restaurant in Flushing: East Manor, which serves excellent Cantonese fare. We were all remarking that we could almost forget we were in the US for the entire dinner. Speaking of which, I haven't been back to Hong Kong in ages. Perhaps that should be on my list of things to do in the next few years.

On our way through Queens, I saw a billboard for One.6, a low-carb wine from the makers of Jack Daniels. So what we have is low-carb wine from Tennessee. My friend Russell was quoted as saying "i'm tempted to call it "wrong"". As I wrote back to him, I have no qualms giving in to said temptation. LOW CARB WINE IS GOING TOO FAR.

Tonight was the 10th anniversary celebration of the Seiji Ozawa Concert Hall at Tanglewood. When it opened, Ozawa Hall was hailed as a marvel of modern acoustics. It won, in 1995, the Honor Award in Architecture and, in 2000, the Honor Award in Interior Architecture, both from the American Institute of Architects, a feat rarely seen. It was the cover story for Architecture Magazine in December of 1994, and was ranked by Leon Beranek as 13th best hall in the world and one of the four best halls of all time in the United States. This is, to be sure, an impressive building. Built to remind the viewer of a modest New England barn, it reminds one more of an airplane hanger, simple in its shoebox shape and barrel vault ceiling. The Boston Globe’s own architecture critic, Robert Campbell, wrote with significant understatement that “the overall impression is of a building that looks both durable and purposeful, commanding its site without looking in any way grand.” The grandeur missing from Ozawa Hall is exemplified in the baroque curlicues of La Scala in Milan, the velvet boxes of Buenos Aires’ Theatro Colon, and even the gilded interior of Boston’s own Symphony Hall. This is an austere space; its elegance is drawn in the contrasts between ruddy brick and yellow cedar, lead-coated copper and burnished teak, accented by red sandstone imported from India. I have admired this building since its opening, and I was very pleased to have had the pleasure of performing in this grand space not once but three times.

I remember the real joy of being on its stage: I have been in the Tanglewood Festival Chorus for eight years now. That first year we sang motets by Samuel Barber and Johannes Brahams. A few years later, I was invited to join the chorus for Aaron Copland’s In The Beginning, a work which has stuck with me since. It was the piece I had the pleasure of performing tonight as part of this 10th anniversary celebration. The Copland is indeed a beautiful piece which narrates the Biblical creation story through interplay between unaccompanied chorus and mezzo-soprano soloist. I have two recordings of it: the first by Leonard Bernstein, the second is a recording of that first concert, conducted by John Oliver. The Bernstein recording is methodical, powerful, and measured. Its strength is drawn from the order of God’s creation and the care taken in constructing Eden’s paradise. John Oliver takes a different approach, and both the recording and tonight’s performance showcased the vibrancy, joy, and excitement of creation: the great whoosh of the seas, the wildly sprouting grasses of the field, and “every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth” can be found in Oliver’s interpretation, which is much faster but also more exciting than the Bernstein. The mezzo-soprano soloist, Stephanie Blythe, is in possession of an incredibly powerful yet nuanced voice; she has recorded only one compact disc, but I expect to be hearing much more from her.

As for the rest of the concert; I was seated outside and the weather was uncooperative. The lightning we could see from the stage grew to full blown storm during Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll, but the real stars of tonight’s concert had the extraordinary ability to make one forget the rain altogether. The first was “Ceremonial: An Autumn Ode” by Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu, written for sho and orchestra. The sho is the Japanese version of the sheng, an ancient Chinese instrument which can only be described as the very top two octaves of a classical pipe organ, condensed down into a hand-held and orally-powered form (google them!). This is a transcendent work with delicate chords and an incredible over-arching structure that allows for contemplation and meditation. Second was Leonard Bernstein’s Opening Prayer conducted by John Williams. Originally written for the re-opening of Carnegie Hall in 1986, it was played ten years ago at the Ozawa Hall inaugural concert: it has a religious gravitas reminiscent of Bernstein’s own Chichester Psalms. The Chinese pianist Yundi Li played two works by Chopin and Liszt: not nearly as famous as his fellow countryman Lang Lang, Li is said to be a more polished musician while Lang is the most outgoing performer. I found Li’s playing, live miked as it was, to have a delicacy not found in Lang’s performance last year: it was astonishing and truly fantastic to hear a solo pianist with such command, nuance, and clarity of direction and articulation.

To change the subject, last night was our family’s last family dinner for a while: Andrew is off to medical school tomorrow (we’re driving down to New Jersey to help him move in) and I’ll be in England in about two months time. Matt is headed into his senior year of high school, and college is beckoning. We spent it at one of our favorite restaurants in the Berkshires: Elizabeth’s Borderland Café.

Despite its cheesy name and truly bizarre location (Pittsfield, Massachusetts next to an old car-repair place and across from the crumbling GE Plastics plant), Elizabeth’s is truly a jewel. Tom, the proprietor and head chef, is a charming fellow with something of a gruff, no-nonsense friendliness about him. Coming in for dinner? “Great to hear from you!” Asking about the specials? “I’m glad you asked!” No reservation? “I can’t help you: goodnight.” The appetizers are phenomenal: the escargot were creamy and tender while the herb and butter sauce was delicious. It took all that we had to tear ourselves away from it. Tom makes a delicious chicken-liver pate, which is laced with what looked like dried currants: its sweet simplicity is best enjoyed with some of Tom’s freshly baked whole-wheat bread. Finally, an herb sauté of wild mushrooms was delicate and light, though sadly under-salted. The real magic of Elizabeth’s is in their daily specials. Woe to him that passes these specials by: past greats have included a sweet corn chowder, and roast wild boar with a marjoram and red-wine sauce. In addition, their cacciatore dish, the only entrée on the menu that prominently features meat, is a daily adventure as well: one particularly memorable cacciatore was a veal hock braised in a tomato ragu served over a huge plate of pasta.

Dad got what he always gets: bagna coada served over linguini: it’s anchovies cooked in butter and olive oil with cheese, capers, and plenty of garlic and shallot. It’s fantastic, but salty as anything. It used to be an entrée but it now lives on the appetizers side of the menu as a hot dip for bread. Tom makes a concession to my father to serve it over pasta every time we go. Mom had one of the specials: a Mexican chicken stew: braised chicken thigh off the bone in a stock-based stew (lighter, not so much starch), flavored with three beans and chipotle peppers. It was amazingly complex, with the chipotle imparting a smokiness that matched well with the chicken. Andrew ordered the cacciatore, a slightly less successful creamy Bolognese sauce over shells. It was cloyingly sweet and the meat (90% sirloin, some chicken and sweet sausage too) lacked depth of flavor. Matt ordered another special: steel-head trout with cauliflower and green beans cooked in parchment. The trout was perfectly succulent while the cauliflower and green beans offered a delicious accompanying note. However, I would like to declare myself the winner: the third special was an old-style red sauce with sweet Italian sausage and heaps of fresh basil served over polenta. Not being a huge fan of polenta (reminder of grits, another culinary disaster, in my humble opinion), I was able to have the sauce served over penne. It was nothing but the essentials: the sweetness of the tomato accented by garlic and hits of basil accompanied by a light sprinkling of parmesan cheese. By the way, all dinners are served with Tom’s house salad: a massive affair including whatever Tom can find to throw in: it has included in the past arugula, peaches, apples, feta, cheddar, celery, broccoli, fresh peas, walnuts, pecans, and chickpeas. It’s delicious, but Tom will come down hard if you don’t finish: he has actually been known to berate those who pass on the salad or take too little.

Back in New Jersey tomorrow: this might be my last time at Tanglewood this year. I’m going to miss this a lot…