The Art of Smoking: II

But I will place this carefully fed pig
Within the crackling oven; and, I pray,
What nicer dish can e'er be given to man.
~ Aeschylus

I promised you more about my smoking adventures on the 5th, but I was busy hostessing until the wee hours of the morning and then Sunday I was busy recovering, so part two had to wait to be written until today.

Success!! Not only did I have enough pork to feed everyone, there was even some leftover. Whew! I think this had more to do with the fact that the second pork butt did not (alas!) cook all the way through on the grill/smoker. So I had to finish it off in the oven at 350 degrees. That took awhile and everyone filled up on ribs, the other 8 pounds of pulled pork and all the Southern sides: fresh picked green beans, homemade coleslaw (you cannot have pulled pork without coleslaw), Vanessa's hamburger buns (which came out perfect this time!) and Cornbread Salad, a recipe I found over at Foodnetwork.

The salad was an unexpected hit. My friend Kathy took one bite and promptly asked for the recipe. So I have included it in the link above. I did not have all the ingredients and I am huge believer in using what you have. This outlook comes in handy when you are running low on time or want to conserve gasoline! Instead of pinto beans, I used garbanzo and instead of green peppers I used artichoke hearts. And for the first time, I used fresh tomatoes from our garden! That in itself was very exciting and soul-satisfying. We also had fruit salad, apple pie, chery-blackberry pie, chocolate torte and of course, gallons and gallons of sweet tea. ;-) The chicken never did make it to the grill.

Smoking meat is an involved art, but it was well worth the time, effort and expense to hear the satisfied "mmmmmms" of my guests as they chowed down on another delightful Southern culinary tradition.

Oh? You are wondering what happened to the chicken I bought? Sadly, it never did make it to the grill. It is happily marinating and awaiting a chance to shine at the next dinner party. Now where did I put my planner?

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

The Art of Smoking

Mustard's no good without roast beef.
~ Chico Marx

And a Fourth of July weekend is no good without pulled pork. So today I entered the mysterious world of smoking. Meat that is. I had never been in this culinary realm and so did as much research on it in the preceding weeks: Alton Brown, Bobby Flay, The Meatwave. You name it, I have probably read it. All the masters of the grill looked to pork butt as the cut to go with. So that is what I bought. Over 17 pounds of it. Like all my Southern female ancestors before me, I live in terror that there will not be enough food. In the South, it is practically a mortal sin. Even 17 pounds does not sound like enough for 25 people. So I also have a couple of racks of spareribs (both pork and beef) and some chicken.

Brining the pork butt beforehand also seemed the way to go, so when I got home late last night, I made up a brine of water, salt and molassas. I owe this new knowledge to The Meatwave and Alton Brown. While the salt was dissolving on the stove, I took out the pork to get a closer look and to take some of the excess fat off. Whew. I seriously need to sharpen my knives! I have never encountered such tough, hard fat on a piece of meat! Luckily, I did not want to take off all the fat, because you need some for flavor and to protect the meat during smoking.

Once that was done, the butt went into the brine and I stuck them in the fridge to sit overnight and moved on to make the rub for the ribs. Here I also took a cue from The Meatwave and followed his recipe almost to the letter. Only I didn't have cayenne and I didn't have mustard powder. So I used red pepper instead and hoped for the best. One of my housemates walked in while I was rubbing the spices into the meat and said that it looked therapeutic. Hmmmm. Not really. Kneading dough, now that's therapeutic!

This morning I woke up and set to work preparing the fire. This is very sad, but I must confess I had to call a male friend to get instructions on the best way to light the charcoal and keep it going. Once that was done, I checked the temperature until it was between 225-250 degrees, added the wood chips and then placed the pork butt on the grill. For the pork butt, I took matters into my own hands for the rub and made up my own consisting of black pepper, curry powder, garlic, chili powder and fresh basil and rosemary from the garden. I also added rosemary to the fire on one of the grills. I had a little trouble with the first grill. The temperature would not drop below 400 degrees for the longest time, but I put the meat on it anyway since I cannot be up until the wee hours. We shall see how that affects the meat.

More tomorrow!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

A Crust of....Biscuit?

Food is not about impressing people. It's about making them feel comfortable.
~ Ina Garten, The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook

Thank goodness my friends have great senses of humor and a memory for past foodie triumphs. Both serve them well when I have either a disaster or mishap in the kitchen. And I love them so much, I give them plenty of opportunities to have a laugh at my expense. ;-)

Vanessa! Mea culpa! I do not know what I did wrong, but your beautiful hamburger buns became delightful biscuits in my confused yet capable Southern hands! :-D I was absolutely mortified. Here I was in charge of providing a suitable throne for Meg's oregano-infused hamburgers, yet no golden crusted buns appeared out of the oven. I showed them to Meg, saying oh dear, "these look like biscuits." Our Randy said, "Honey, those aren't something LIKE biscuits, they ARE biscuits!"

Despite their failure as hamburger buns, they proved to be delicious. And at least 5 of us opted to eat our hamburgers on a biscuit instead of the somewhat stale store bought versions we ran out and bought. I must say I am now a fan of the hamburger biscuit. Meg thought her hamburger would be too monstrous for just one biscuit, so she used two: one on top and one on the bottom.

As a cook, however, I am still determined to make Vanessa's Hamburger Buns actually look like Vanessa's Hamburger Buns. I confess I did not let the dough sit for 6 hours in the fridge as suggested. Was that my downfall? There is only one way to find out!

To Be Continued....

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Food for a Cause

The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread.
~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

In my search for genetically unaltered, pure, organic, old fashioned food, I came across this great company that makes the most delicious store-bought cookies (oh, come on ~ you know mine are better just because you eat right out of the oven!) I have ever tasted while also feeding the creativity of American Folk Artists.

Owner Scott Blackwell started The Immaculate Baking Company in 1995 and in the years since has won many awards. Once you grab a few boxes and sample them, you will understand why. And you can be at peace knowing that they use fresh ingredients and that you are also helping support American folk artists. Helping artists and eating great food?! Perfect combo!

My personal favorite: Pumpkin Gingerlies. It may be the end of June and 89 degrees in the shade, but pumpkin is never out of season! ;-)

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

A Crust of Bread

If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
~ Robert Browning

This Saturday, my housemate Meg will be hosting a charity cookout. Guests bring a dish and any money they would have spent on dinner at restaurant to go to a local charity. My contribution is going to be bread. I had decided on a basic loaf of French bread, but then I came across this article on Serious Eats, which led me to What Geeks Eat. The pictures of those golden crusts convinced me. Saturday morning will find me elbow deep in flour, trying my hand at baking Vanessa’s hamburger buns. I will let you know how they turn out!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Dulce Domum

He saw clearly how plain and simple -- how narrow, even -- it all was; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one's existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to; this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome.
~ The Wind in the Willows

Mr. F recently began re-reading The Wind in the Willows. T.Q. mentioned that he thought Toad was an addict and I was intrigued. As I had not read it myself since I was a child, I picked it up as well to see what a jaded adult eye could reap from its pages.

The description above of Mole’s emotions towards both his old home and his new adventures by the River in Chapter Five touched a nerve somewhere deep inside me. Having moved to the “big city” of Washington, D.C. almost eight years ago, I have always thought of myself as a bit of a geographical schizophrenic, with my heart attached to the terra firma of the homestead and my body and social life firmly ensconced within the concrete halls of the nation’s capital.

Like Mole, I have grown quite a bit in my sojourn here and indeed the pull of the upper world (is) all too strong….the new life and its splendid spaces…and all they offer. I too can count (on) this place which was all his own….and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome. There is a special bond between a soul that lives on the land, surrounded by the both the beauties and horrors of nature, and the very dirt one plays and plants in ~ my familial roots are anchored deep in the red Virginia clay of home.

But the luxury of being able to escape from the stride of the noisy city to the languorous pace and silence of the country cannot be counted on forever. One’s parents will not live forever and either one must step in to save the family home or let it go to strangers who may or may not keep the land that one’s family has worked so hard on. Couple this longing and familial responsibility with the necessity of cultivating one’s soul and artistic endeavors and the dilemma presented is of Solomon proportions.

Such a wrenching choice is not thrust upon Mole. He is free to live out his adventures on the River, expanding his borders and horizons. If he wants to return to his old home in the meadow, it will be there, patiently waiting; ready to welcome him with open arms. Mole is lucky too in that he has already made that dreaded yet necessary leap: he knew he must return to the larger stage. And he can do so without heartache because of his ability to return whenever he wishes, to the comforts of the familiar.

I must confess I envy Mole...just a tad.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

A Bit of Earth

She wants a little bit of earth
She'll plant some seeds
The seeds will grow
The flowers bloom
Their beauty just the thing she needs
~ A Bit of Earth

It is something out of a B movie from the 1950s: attack of the killer tomatoes! Beefsteak and Roma tomatoes are the latest victims in the Salmonella Wars. Yet another reason to grow your own vegetables!

Which is exactly what we did. This year's tomato plants were purchased from an organic farm right here in Northern Virginia (yes they do exist here!) and are already producing beautiful, healthy fruit. For this Southern foodie, you cannot offer two more delectable dishes than fried green tomatoes or cheese & tomato sandwhiches. I love tomatoes and I love fried food: put those two together and you have a little piece of heaven! ;-) I must give a shout out to my yankee friend Di, however. She hails from Pennsylvania but I have yet to taste an equal to her fried green tomatoes. Scandalous! But I do not complain, especially when the notion strikes her to make them and share. Mmmm!

Cheese and Tomato Sandwhiches are one of the reasons I can look forward to summer, despite the wretched heat and humidity. Store bought 'maters (besides being a health hazard these days) just do not have the same flavor as these fresh-from-your-own-garden beauties. For me, it is not only the fresh taste but the memories that come with each bite.

As I have mentioned before, I grew up on a small, "gentleman's farm." My parents grew varying vegetables on three of their five and half acres and although I loathed weeding and grew to hate the sight of zucchini and eggplant, I loved squishing my toes in the soft earth and running through the sprinklers; picking sugar snap peas right off the vine and eating them pods and all. Digging up potatoes was like a treasure hunt and I certainly inherited my father's love of the spud. And though it sounds like a quaint Americana dream, I cherish the memory of sitting out under the ancient maples, snapping green beans with my mother, sisters and at on rare occasions, aunts and cousins. I am sure there were times I would have rather been reading the latest Bobbsey Twins or Nancy Drew story from the libary. But I loved to eat green beans too much and I also loved helping my mother prepare them for canning.

As for tomatoes, we grew several rows of those as well and canning those was a hot chore. I was not a big fan of the canned tomatoes ~ they could not stand up to their fresh picked counterparts. But raw tomatoes, paired with a few slices of cheese, on bread slathered with homemade mayonnaise ~ that was a summer treat not to be missed!

I am looking forward to continuing this delicious tradition once my salmonella-free 'maters ripen. They go great with a gallon of sweet tea! Y'all comin' over for supper? ;-)

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

...Are Longing to Stray

Only an artist who is profoundly steeped in the sensus Ecclesiae can attempt to perceive and express in melody the truth of the Mystery that is celebrated in the Liturgy.
~ John Paul II

This past weekend I attended the 20th Anniversary of Classical Singer magazine in New York City. The convention was incredible ~ I took copious notes and learned much from the likes of opera great Sherill Milnes and several judges and coaches from the Met. I love opera, but it is not the style of music I sing. The wisdom and performance tips I learned, however, apply to almost all singers, whatever genre their talent falls under. Many thanks to my dear friend and soul sister Imelda Franklin Bogue for making it all possible! :-)

On Saturday evening, I headed from Brooklyn over to Manhattan’s east side. The Church of Notre Dame is a beautiful piece of architecture modeled after the Church of St. Louis in Paris and located not far from Columbia University and under the care of the Polish Province of the Dominicans. As I mentioned previously, Mr. F is a member of the choir there and they performed a concert in honor of Mary, the Mother of God. The church itself is a wonderful space for a concert of early sacred music. The soaring ceiling over the nave made the acoustics something every singer dreams of.

As I sat in the pew waiting for the concert to begin, I confess I felt a tad uncomfortable. Turning off the critical musician’s ear is possible, but it is neither easy nor is it often done. This makes listening to a friend’s performance a virtual minefield. One wonders whether honesty in such cases truly is the best policy!

Luckily, I have never been in such a position and Saturday night was no exception. Any reservations I may have had were instantly swept away from the first note to the last. I was completely taken in and won over by the masterful blend and balance of this small ensemble. Closing my eyes a couple of times to “drink it in with my spirit,” I thought I was listening to a small group from the Tallis Scholars! I asked Mr. F later if any of the members were professionally trained and he told me that the baritone was currently studying music at Columbia, but the rest are all ordinary professionals with no music training. I was impressed anew with the purity and strength of their sound. If you are in New York and would like to hear them, they sing at the 11am Mass on Sundays. They are on break for the summer but will return in the fall.

Bravo Mr. F and the rest of the Choir of the Church of Notre Dame! I hope to hear more of this lovely choir in the future.

Oremuc pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

These Vagabond Shoes...

It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.
~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Tomorrow, I head up to the Big Apple for a much needed mini-vacation and some quality time with far away friends. Saturday marks the 20th Anniversary of Classical Singer Magazine and I will be attending their Convention in Brooklyn. I am rather looking forward to being in a hotel among 400 divas (not sure what the male version is called ~ divos?) As my dear friend said to me: "Good Lord! Can you imagine!? 400 other me's!!" Ah yes indeed. I am not alone in my drama! I do not know whether to laugh or whine! ;-)

On Saturday evening, I and my friend Diane (that Norwegian goddess!) will endeavor to find our way to the Church of Notre Dame for Mr. F's concert. I am very much looking forward to seeing the church and hearing what promises to be a fantastic evening of music! Mr. F ~ I do hope you will have time for post-concert coffee!

There is wifi on the trip up, but I staunchly refuse to take my laptop. I will have my cell phone, but I am breaking free from the technology ball and chain for a whole three days! Yipee! I shall enjoy talking over the weekend with you once I get back. Til then, ta-ta!

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Musica Sacra: Widor Mass, Opus. 36

Music is a means of rapid transportation.
~ John Cage

Don't forget that this Sunday, 11 May 2008, the Saint John the Beloved Latin Choir will be singing the Widor Mass Opus. 36 at noon. It is a piece of music you will not soon forget!

Saint John the Beloved Parish is located at 6420 Linway Terrace, McLean, Virginia 22101.

We hope to see y'all there!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

A Return to the Land

Chemicals, n: Noxious substances from which modern foods are made.

~ Author Unknown

Both the Washington Post and the Washington Times greeted me this morning with front page stories on the $770 million in food aid that President Bush is asking Congress to approve. The line that caught my attention was this: “the administration denied that corn-for-ethanol subsidies are a major cause of the worldwide surge in food prices.” (Times, 5/2/08). The Post said the same thing: “While nearly all experts agree that increased biofuel production has contributed to escalating food prices, there is little consensus on the scope. Edward Lazear, chairman of the White House Council of Economic Advisers, argued yesterday that the impact of ethanol on prices was minimal, because corn is a small portion of global food consumption.” (Post, 5/2/08)

Although I am no economic expert, I am a consumer. And an uneasy one at that. Frankly, the denial that increased corn production by a large number of American farmers is NOT contributing to the current food crisis sounds like what it is: denial. Here at home the decision by farmers to turn their fields over to producing as much corn as possible has definitely affected those of us who buy the bulk of our fruits and vegetables at the supermarket. To deny that such a decision has minimal impact is ludicrous. And I have all the proof I need right at home.

My parents are retired and live on a very limited income. It has become more and more expensive to buy fresh, healthy produce. Even for just two people who do not eat a whole lot the grocery bill increases each time they shop. Add to that they live in the country where driving everywhere is a necessity and the bulk of their income is going to food and the gas needed to go buy it.

Thankfully, they still own around four and half acres. So this weekend I will head down for a much needed mini vacation where the only sound I hear at night are the cows and the crickets. But it will not all be rest and relaxation. Since Dad had a pacemaker put in, he cannot do as much as he once did, so yours truly gets the awesome job of bush-hogging one of the fields. And to help them save on produce, I will also put in a vegetable and herb garden for Mom.

They both have incredibly green thumbs. Last summer’s tomato crop left mine in the dust. I expect this year’s yield to be just a good, if not better. And the good news is, it will all be local and organic. So we know that it is not genetically meddled with or injected with drugs or sprayed with toxins.

When I was growing up, we owned a little over five and half acres and at least three of those were vegetable gardens. I could not eat zucchini for the longest time because we grew so much of it! (I like it now….in zucchini bread. ;-)) Because of Mom and Dad's decreased mobility, this year’s garden will not be quite that large. However, I do plan on making it big enough to feed both of them and my household as well (we also plan on having a small city garden ourselves).

The good thing about going back to the land out of necessity is that you rediscover something both beautiful and basic; something you cannot experience or touch when you live in the city: man was meant to till the land and take care of it. And once you get dirt in your blood, there is no getting rid of it. To try to deny it is to deny a primordial need.

And there’s enough denial in this town as it is.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Pope Benedict in America: Musings

All the Saints of God are there to protect me, to sustain me and to carry me. And your prayers, my dear friends, your indulgence, your love, your faith and your hope accompany me.
~ Pope Benedict XVI

Today, Nationals Stadium welcomes baseball fans once again, showing no signs that a mere seven days ago, it held within in its heart our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament and His beloved servant, Pope Benedict XVI. What glorious day that we will not soon forget!

Over 45,000 souls gathered inside to show the Holy Father their love and support. There is nothing to describe the feeling that comes over one when you first see the Popemobile drive out into the stadium or hear 44,999 other voices praying the Our Father in unison. This was definitely an experience where I felt all four marks of the true Church hit me in the face like cloud of incense: One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic.

My friend Roshan was blessed to volunteer at the Mass and was kind enough to get me and another friend tickets. Since yours truly misplaced her camera, he also acted as official photographer for our little group. These beautiful pictures are courtesy of him. Thanks Roshan! :-)

Although I was very young at the time, I still remember when John Paul II visited D.C. in 1979. There was Mass on the Mall, thousands of pilgrims and lots of praise and worship music. This time around, it was more structured, and given the world we live in, there wer Secret Service crawling all over the place, but there were still thousands of pilgrims and the music sounded pretty much as it did in 1979. More on that later.

Above, our little band of B16 fans pose in front of the VIP section, where Roshan was volunteering. It was a double blessing in that our whole house (The Divine Mercy House) was able to attend the Mass, along with two converts, one of whom just came into the Church this past Easter. Welcome Doris!!

The cross used at the Papal Mass was, if I'm not mistaken, loaned from the Archdiocese of Baltimore and is the crucifix used to mark the historic landing of the first Catholics to the New World.

When we first arrived at the Stadium, I was surprised I didn't see more people I knew, but like any Catholic Mass, it was only afterwards that we kept running into familiar faces. We all gathered near the back of where the altar was set up and had to keep taking pictures because we kept seeing people we knew and calling them over for a huge group shot. I am sure there were others, but these were the friends who were in the vicinity of the cameras.

Fallen Sparrow mentioned in his post on the Papal visit to New York that there were protestors. We had our share of them here in D.C. as well. It is a common occurance in the nation's capitol, but I was still annoyed. You could faintly hear them during the Holy Father's homily and once we were outside, I could not help rolling my eyes and sighing. Perhaps I should have been feeling more charitable, but as we all know, feelings and emotions are neutral and say nothing of the act of the will. So, I willed their good, said an Ave for them and ignored them. Can you really reason with a man with a bullhorn?! I highly doubt any of them would know a Greek letter of the alphabet if it bit them, so why waste time trying to explain how their reading of Scripture is way out of context and does not even follow the original text? One of my housemates did stop and talk to several of them, so someone did try.

And now to the Papal Mass itself. It was a huge undertaking and having been involved in the past with Masses and events at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, I have an appreciation for all the work and planning that went into putting together and celebrating a Mass on this scale. It ran like clockwork. If there were any hitches or mistakes, I did not see them.

The one thing that I did notice however, was the music.

All I can say is that as a Catholic in the United States and a member of the Arlington Diocese, I was embarrassed and appalled. As a musician, I was archly amused. I had missed auditioning for the Papal Mass Choir and was feeling a little sad about that. But after they began singing, I was relieved that I had not! God bless them, it was not their fault. When you are a chorister, you sing the music that is put in front of you. And sometimes, when you are the choir director, you conduct and rehearse the music your boss asks you to. I do not know who is to blame for the music choice for the Papal Mass last week, but it was....lame. Not to be mean, but the music we sing on a weekly basis at Saint John the Beloved is much better. Thank God for David Lang and Father McAfee!

Bongos, guitars, hand claps and *groan* the Mass of Creation!? And that is not the half of it. My first thought was, here we have a sample of what has been wrong with the liturgy for the past 30 years. My second thought was, have these people even heard of Spirit of the Liturgy, much less read it?!? I will give them the benefit of the doubt that the music choice was done out of ignorance and not malice. But one has to ask: what were they thinking?! The Pontiff is a man with exquisite musical taste, an eye for beauty and an brilliant understanding of liturgy and tradition. He comes from the land of Mozart and you gave him Haugen!? How.....gauche. Not to mention liturgically wrong and just plain ugly.

As my director always tells us, a right note sung at the wrong time is still a wrong note. And in the case of the music for the Papal Mass in Washington, D.C., their pitch may have been perfect (which, by the way, it was not), but the music chosen was way off key.

Fortunately, the Holy Father was at the Shrine the evening before and Dr. Peter Latona is an incredible composer and director, so the music was more in keeping with what Pope Benedict XVI advocates and loves. And there was a musical bright spot at the Papal Mass itself: Placido Domingo singing Panis Angelicus. One of the most emotional moments took place after he finished singing: the Holy Father got up out of his chair and met Placido Domingo half-way and embraced him. It was beautiful. But I couldn't help thinking, he's probably saying: "Thank God! Finally, a beautiful piece of music befitting the glory of the liturgy!"

Musical faux pas aside, though, it was an overwhelming experience and I am so grateful to my friends and to Our Lord that I was able to attend. God bless Pope Benedict XVI and long may he reign!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Viva il Papa!

What a glorious and grace-filled two days! I am physically and emotionally exhausted from following our Holy Father around D.C. I will post pictures and my thoughts on the Papal Mass at Nationals Stadium and the small group that cheered him on as he left for New York once I have recovered. ;-)

Viva il Papa!

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Our German Shepherd Has Landed!

Only that which is eternal can satisfy us.
~ St. Therese

He's here!!!!

Pope Benedict XVI has landed and is on his way to the Papal Nunciature!

Sigh. I love that man. :-) And to think I will hear him offer Mass in two days!!

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Musica Sacra: Pentecost 2008

Music that does not SURGE is not great music.
~ Carl Ruggles

The program of incredible music continues at Saint John the Beloved in McLean! For Easter, we sang Dvorak's absolutely jubliant and powerful Mass in D, complete with a full chamber orchestra. Several people approached me afterwards to thank the Choir and David Lang, our wonderfully talented Director, for providing such a feast for the soul. As exhausting as singing for six days in a row was, I was pleased to hear that all our hard work paid off.

Pentecost will be just as glorious. You may recall that last year we sang a Vierne Mass. We follow up 2007's soul-stirring performance with another powerful piece, this time from Vierne's teacher: Charles Marie Widor's Mass, Opus 36, a missa cantata composed for two choirs and two organs, much like Vierne's Missa Solennelle. This year, we are bringing in a second organ for the occasion. At rehearsal on Thursday, we did a quick read of the Kyrie and Gloria. I thought for sure I had died and was standing before the throne of God. I can only imagine how it will be when we have both organs going!

The best recording I have found so far was one done in 2005 at St. Sulpice, where Widor was organist for over sixty years. It is a French Latin choir singing in the style the Mass would have been sung in at the time of its debut. Westminster Cathedral Choir also did a recording of this Mass on the same CD that the Vierne Mass was recorded on.

All this liturigcal and musical beauty is thanks to the pastor, Father Franklyn McAfee ~ one of the most cultured, educated and holy priests you will ever meet. His love of the Church and his commitment to authentic liturgy has created a haven where such sacred beauty is preserved and can be experienced on a weekly basis. Perhaps I am baised, but here is a sampling of things people have said after experiencing Mass at Saint John’s:

“I was in Rome for Easter last year, and I was sad because I would be missing the incredible music and majesty of Holy Week at Saint John’s.”

“We drive an hour to attend Mass at Saint John’s. Where else in the Diocese do you have such an incredibly beautiful liturgy with breath-taking music?”

“There are two places you can go to hear beautiful sacred music: the Kennedy Center and Saint John the Beloved in McLean."

I hope you can join us on Sunday, May 11, 2008 for the Feast of Pentecost and experience the Extraordinary Rite of the Roman Church as it was meant to be celebrated.

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Music & Experience

When a singer truly feels and experiences what the music is all about,

the words will automatically ring true.
~ Monserrat Caballé

....every time there are losses there are choices to be made. You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred, depression and resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider, and deeper.
~ Henri Nouwen

There are days when I wish I had not experienced the pain and suffering that gives birth to some of my music and makes it “ring true.” Especially when I am still in the midst of feeling the pain, acknowledging the hurt and dealing with the betrayal. Being a person of intense emotions only magnifies all of these wretched steps. And then...I have a weekend where silence and solitude place their gentle hands on my broken heart, draw out the poison and leave me free to think and work through the pain. At the end, I am able to put down on staff paper where I am in the healing journey.

Such was this past weekend. I had Sunday off (it being a men’s schola weekend) and took the opportunity to spend the entire weekend out in the country. In addition to my physical illness, I have been struggling with the recent betrayal of someone very dear to me. I had been feeling a little like Eleanor Dashwood: experiencing all the pains of love without any of the benefits! What is a broken-hearted musician to do? Compose music about it of course! Not that all the music I write and sing is personally experiential ~ I recently composed a song for Beth and Sullivan ~ but my personal experiences are always fodder for the Muse ~ the more intense, the better.

Sometimes when I write, I don’t know what I want to say, or where the music will take me. In this case, it was through the act of composing the lyrics that I realized that I was mourning the death of a friendship that perhaps never really existed, which in some ways is sadder and more painful than the betrayal itself.

Letting go of an illusion is much more difficult then letting go of reality - one is tempted to believe that one cannot mourn or release a dream or an illusion ~ it seems so....silly. But the pain is certainly real as is the loss and thereby is worthy of grief.

So I mourn what could have been and what may have been and embrace the lessons that pain is teaching me this go 'round. And hopefully the recovery will be quicker than the last experience. For now, at least the music has improved. ;-)

Oremus pro invicem,

Mikaela

How A Foodie Fasts

Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon.
~ Doug Larson

The past couple of weeks have been a never-ending stream of x-rays, ct-scans, ultra-sounds and numerous hospital stays, all with the same answer: you are perfectly healthy and everything is functioning normally. We will just up the dosage of pain medication for the inexplicable and God-awful pain. Really? Thank you ever so much. Actually, a permanent IV of morphine would do nicely.

In short, the past couple of weeks have been exceedingly boring.

The most horrific part of my mystery illness has been the inability to eat anything. And I do mean anything. Well, anything solid and having any taste at all. Broth. This is what it has come to: broth. Sigh. Man does not live on broth alone….and neither does a Southern cook!

Happily, my non-existence appetite and broth exile has not affected my ability to cook and try new recipes on eager and willing friends and family. So I have filled my bed-ridden time pouring over foodie magazines, devouring old cookbooks and searching gourmet websites for ideas for the next culinary brouhaha: Easter dinner. This year, two of my roommates will be staying in town, so it promises to be a huge and absolutely insane gathering. I cannot wait!! If there is one thing I like better than cooking for my loved ones, it is cooking for a lot of my loved ones! ;-)

It has been a set-in-stone tradition in our family to serve ham for Easter dinner. No Virginia table would be complete without it and the one year we actually had Easter dinner out (the ultimate horror!) I swear I actually heard Robert E. do a 180 in his tomb! I myself am a great upholder of tradition ~ even traditions that are not strictly my own. I soak my soul in them! There is something comforting and connected about traditions ~ they say that what someone did and who they were mattered. And that hopefully we learn from what and who went before us. That being said, I also like to try new things.

So, how does this translate in the kitchen? Well, this year, the traditional ham will take center stage, but the glaze I use will be completely different from any I've tried before. I have not wuite decided on which one will win out, but I have several in the running. And in a supporting role this year will be lamb ~ a meat I have yet had the pleasure of swearing over…I mean, cooking. Not sure what costume it will be wearing when it does make its debut: in a stew or as a roast or perhaps even as chops? Then there will be the chorus: an endless array of sides: twists on old Southern standards, with some appearing in all their old regalia, completely untouched. After all, what’s the point of creating your own tradition if you don’t tip your hat to the old ones?

And the finale? Well, dessert will be a recap of what went before: old and new together. Mom's standard, old-fashioned coconut cake; my sister's rum-soaked banana pudding and something new, which I am still debating: dark chocolate and orange tart with toasted almonds, lemon panna cotta with blackberry sauce or individual maple and marscpone cheesecakes? Hmmm. Maybe I should have my readers vote on which dessert I should make (but of course, not eat!). Well, then ~ which should it be? Let me know!

And have a blessed and delicious weekend! ;-)

Oremus pro invicem,

Mikaela

My Dearest....

How hard it is to ... burn to ashes
the hopes of future years when,
God willing, we might still have lived
and loved together to see our boys
grown to honorable manhood around us.
If I do not return, my dear Sarah,
never forget how much I loved you,
nor that when my last breath
escapes me on the battlefield,
it will whisper your name.
Forgive...the many pains I have caused you.
How thoughtless ... how foolish I have sometimes been.
~ Simon Ballou to his wife, Sarah, before the Battle of Bull Run

Sigh. No one writes like this anymore. At least, no men I know write like this anymore. Okay, Sullivan, that poetic gentleman, writes like this I am sure of it, as does Fallen Sparrow. But such poetic prose and authentic emotional expression are a rarity today. Would you not agree?

lll

I love letters. All kinds of letters. I write “sheets and sheets” to my loved ones. Missives filled with love, local news, spiritual angst and personal goings-on. I find that my thoughts and feelings are more coherent and are better expressed with quill and ink than face to face. Not to say that I do not adore being in the presence of loved ones as well. I do! And at rare times, the Spirit inspires me to say things that are just what that person needed to hear. But more often than not, I am struck mute by the depth of what I am feeling or the complexity of the thoughts that spring to mind. It is only later, in writing these thoughts and feelings on paper does light come or solutions to problems are discovered. Such is my nature I suppose.

This need to write things down is a cyclical one. As you can tell by my blog, I am at times sadly remiss in my writing duties – even ones I have a deep affection for! I have found that at those times when I being less honest with myself; when I am most in the grip of fear; when hope has taken flight, seemingly for eternity, then my heart bolts the door, locks away the paper and the ink dries up. When I feel safe and wanted and heard then it like spring and my quill races across the page with abandon. And I am much, much the happier for it.

My loved ones affirm me in this as well. They feel the absence of my scribblings as keenly as I feel the absence of the thin quill in my hand. And when in full letter-writing mode, I pen letters and notes to loved ones who practically live next door as well as those I cannot be with face to face.

Winston Churchill and his wife, Clemmie were prodigious letter-writers and one would often pen notes to the other while they were sitting merely in the next room. My dearest friend, Beth - my twin in every respect and especially in this one - and I are stamped of the same mould. We are both such adorers of the written word and that certainly will not change once we are called to marital life. I feel sure that such will indeed be her happy lot of writable marital bliss, as she is being courted with much wordy love as only Sullivan can pen. ;-)

lll

Reading other people’s letters gives me great joy and inspiration as well. Currently, I have several books of letters in my library: Evelyn Waugh, George Bernard Shaw, J.R.R. Tolkien, St. Therese of Lisiuex, to name a few. The latest edition was a significant natal anniversary gift from another dear friend, Christiana ~ the letters from Blessed Jordan of Saxony to Diana d'Andalò called “To Heaven with Diana!” They are among the most beautiful, passionate and spiritually edifying letters I have yet read.

And that, dear readers, requires a future post all its own!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Dinner for Eight on Our Lady's Feast Day: 8 December 2007

One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.
~ Luciano Pavarotti

After many months of trying, my choir director and my schedules finally meshed. I hosted him for dinner along with six other close friends. Choosing the menu took much thought ~ Dahvid is a true Southern gentleman from North Carolina and accustomed to his mother’s incredible, I am sure, Southern cooking.

A Southern feast with a Mikaela twist was debated, but in the end I opted for a menu with a cranberry theme.

Cook's Notes:

One: Remember to read the recipe thoroughly. Not allowing the cheesecake to cool a full 4 hours before chilling overnight did not really hurt it; however, not chilling it for an hour with the cranberry topping made it a tad drippy.

Two: Some dishes are perfectly happy being cooked the night or even two days before the event. In fact, they may even benefit from a couple days rest in the fridge. This will free you the cook from being chained to the stove and/or the kitchen all evening. I spent more time in the kitchen this time around then I did with my
guests.

Three: Remember these pieces of wisdom from the queens of culinary masterpieces:

“You don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces - just good food from fresh ingredients.” Julia Child

"Food is not about impressing people. It's about making them feel comfortable." Ina Garten

I wish I had read those before Saturday! ;-) For the appetizer, I leafed through a 1998 issue of Saveur that I had on my shelf and found a delectably simple recipe for Cappesante el Pesto (scallops with pesto). This recipe, inspired by the author’s father, Edward Giobbi, was hailed by my guests and I must say, the pesto, made with fresh basil, walnuts instead of pine nuts and gorgonzola instead of reggiano (my substitution) was the best pesto I had ever tasted.

Next came a simple salad of spinach, arugula, walnuts, cranberries and gorgonzola cheese, drizzled with balsamic vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. I followed this with a soup course and used a recipe from Epicurious.com for Fresh Wild Mushroom Soup. This soup, made up of shitake, cremini and regular mushrooms (again, my substitution), beef broth and brandy, was an instant hit at the dinner table. I alone did not find the taste to my liking. I am always surprised when anything I cook or create comes out well and is well-received, a trait which drives my friends crazy. But in this case, the surprise was warranted because I honestly thought it was the most deplorable mushroom soup I had ever tasted! :-) Cie la vie ~ at least they loved it and that is what is important. For my own dinner, however, I will try another mushroom soup recipe.

For the main course, I went back and forth between pork loin, chicken with pesto and beef tenderloin. I finally decided on Beef Tenderloin, served with a cranberry and port sauce. Beef tenderloin is one of the tenderest cuts of beef you can find…and the most expensive. Buying organic tenderloin from Whole Foods made it a tad more expensive than it usually is. But it was well worth it. A couple of days later I cooked up another cut of beef in the leftover sauce and was disappointed in the toughness of the meat. I am now officially spoiled in favor of tenderloin! ;-)

To end the meal, I chose a wonderfully creamy Cranberry-Orange Cheesecake with a chocolate crust, also found on Epicurious.com. One of my friends, who is from Long Island, paid me one of the highest compliments I’ve yet received for my culinary skills when he said: This is by far the best cheesecake I have ever had. Remind me why you haven’t opened your own restaurant?” Ah yes, Dennis, that is an interesting question! ;-)

My future career plans and the inordinate amount of time spent at the stove aside, the evening was wonderful ~ filled with laughter, time spent with some of the best friends and another successful culinary adventure!

Next up: Christmas dinner!

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Welcome to a New Diva Blogger!

We who love music realize that it is exactly this element of hard work and thoughtful study which eliminates the lazy and uninterested from our ranks and makes this hard-won title - MUSICIAN - something of which to be proud.
~ Phil Farkas

I would like to extend a warm welcome to blogdom to my dear friend and fellow performance diva, Imelda Franklin Bogue!! She is an incredible singer, a wonderful person and a true soulmate and musical sistah! Do visit her new blog and if you live in the NYC area and have a chance to hear her perform, don’t miss it! :-) Welcome, Imelda!! Looking forward to many more wonderful posts on your doings in the world of New York opera!

* * * *

In regards to her thoughts on performing for family, I must agree that one definitely can get a good case of nerves even when performing for people you know love you. For myself, I have always found family and friends of family to be either the toughest critics or the most politely-and-slightly bored audience ever! And consequently, I no longer sing or play at family functions, which are few and far between anyway.

It is odd, but perhaps nerves are due to one’s own perfectionism ~ the desire to perform well, no matter who is in the audience. And certainly this continues to be the case for me even after I have given a less than stellar performance and can remember every wrong note sung and every missed beat and still people come up to me afterwards all aglow and moved by the music. And I am touched in return that my poor performance (in my eyes and ears) could still be used to uplift someone. And isn’t that what this beautiful, painful art called music all about? To share one’s soul with others in the hopes that someone, somewhere will be touched and encouraged to press on awhile longer.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Musica Sacra: Feast of All Souls

Oh, may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again.
~ George Eliot, The Choir Invisible

The choral season at Saint John the Beloved began beautifully: our first Tridentine Mass on the 21st celebrated with the Ropartz Mass and then Christ the King (by the old calendar) on the 28th celebrated with the Mozart Mass in C sung with chamber orchestra.

Now, this Friday, November, 2nd, Father MacAfee will be celebrating another Solemn High Tridentine Mass and we will be singing Duruflè’s Requiem with chamber orchestra for the Feast of All Souls.

If you are in the Washington, DC area, please join us!

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Bella

We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.
~Jawaharlal Nehru

This past weekend several hundred friends (I kid you not!) and I went to see the movie, Bella. The film has won critical aclaim and several awards, including the People’s Choice award at the Toronto Film Festival. I now know why.

Simply put, this film is brilliant and beautifully crafted.

The story line is moving ~ I think someone said that if you do not cry at some point, you do not have tear ducts. I think I cried through most of it. But then the story line hits very close to home for me. In some ways, it provided a catharsis for me ~ which quite honestly is what a well done play or film or piece of music is supposed to do. Not pick up you and leave you hanging with unresolved emotions. Bella is real; it makes no apologies for life, how hard and unfair it can be. And yet how beautiful that same life can be. Yes, your heart will be broken. Yes, life can be painful. But it is totally worth it.

If you have not seen it yet, go. It’s playing in select theatres, but hopefully with many people going to see it, it will get wider distribution.

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Musica Sacra: St. John's 2007-2008 Choir Season

It's the way we sing that makes 'em dream.

~ Ed Kowalczyk

Many apologies for my radio silence the past few weeks. As I have been telling all my friends and family, my schedule has literally exploded ~ Sunday through Friday my time is no longer my own. I cannot complain ~ almost all of it is taken up by music-related happenings: voice lessons, rehearsals for two choirs, and all the new music that one must learn for all three!

Speaking of music, the Saint John the Beloved Latin Choir is back from vacation and our Director, David Lang has prepared yet another musical collage designed to raise body and soul to Heaven! I will once again be posting our schedule and music selections for your envy and edification. ;-)

The one major difference this year will be singing for the Mass according to the 1962 Missal and not the Novus Ordo. (Sounds of angels singing Victoria heard in the background.) Of course, for the choir, not much will change musically. The music we sing will be the same ~ almost all of it was written before 1962. Now we will just be singing them in the setting for which they were composed. Like a woman wearing diamonds with jeans instead of a black velvet evening gown. It can work, but the proper setting is a ball and not a barn dance.

More to come!

Oremus pro invicem,

Mikaela

Weekend in New England: Part I

It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.
~ J.R.R. Tolkien (Bilbo Baggins)

Back in July I went up to New England for a mini-vacation with some close friends. Sullivan has an aunt and uncle who have a house up in New Hampshire that they let us use for 4 days. It was absolutely glorious! Silly me forgot her camera; however, both Sullivan and Jeannette brought theirs and took lovely pictures, some of which I will post here.

We left the DC area at 10:30pm on Thursday, July 12 and arrived in NYC at 3:00am at our friend Diane’s abode in the heart of Harlem. Leaving so late for an 11 road hour trip may sound crazy enough, but what added to the hilarity of it was the presence of a rather large chair, which Sullivan put in the trunk. Well, at least one foot in the trunk. The rest of it was hanging out behind, firmly tied down. But that was not all! There was an ottoman, which we affectionately named Otto, that went with the chair. He took up residence in the backseat of the car, between Jeanette and Ames. It made for quite an interesting 5 hours. We played “Istanbul, Not Constantinople” in Otto's honor. :-)

Once we dropped off Otto and his chair at Diane’s, and she took his place in the backseat, we were back on the road to New Hampshire. We reached Providence around 6 a.m. and stopped to have breakfast with Dan, a college friend. I was not as tired or freaked out as I thought I would be after close to 8 hours in a Dodge Neon with 4 people. Euro trash techno helped immensely and as I was riding shotgun, I was in charge of music. Ah….bliss!

We finally made it into North Hampton around 10 am and decided to stop at the house and get settled before heading to the beach. The house was beautiful with a huge screened in porch and an expansive front and side lawn. Then we headed to the grocery store and packed a picnic lunch and headed to the beach.

I’m a country gal. I grew up with black beef cattle for neighbors and wide expanses of rolling hills and trees and an occasional mountain range thrown in for good measure. The beaches I have been to have all been here in the Old Dominion and are sandy and soft, the water cool if not downright tepid. This was my first introduction to the New England coast. And what a stony and cold one it was! (Sort of how New Englander’s are….haha! A little joke at all my yankee friends’ expense….and hopefully not the last….hee!)

Supposedly walking on hot rocks is therapeutic. People pay hundreds of dollars to do this at a spa. We did it for free and it was NOT therapeutic! It was, well, stony! Ouch! Standing in the ice cold Atlantic, however, was. I felt like a kid again, my skirt hitched up to my knees, my bare feet clinging desperately to various medium to large sized rocks, as the waves crashed into me.

Sullivan stood further out than I did, being braver and having on shorts. He kept encouraging me to come closer to the waves, at times taunting my reluctance and at others, grabbing hold of my hand as I tentatively edged away from the shore. I kept saying, “Are you crazy!? I’m not standing on THAT little rock! I’ll be washed away!” And he would just laugh and then after about 5 minutes debating it, I would quickly hop to another rock. It would have been quite a hoot if I had fallen in and become completely soaked. Luckily, this did not happen. Now, however, I kind of wish it had!

After we struggled painfully back up to where Ames, Jeannette and Diane were sunning, I was instantly aware of the significance of stepping further and further out into the water, away from the painful, but safe shore and immediately began to write a poem about it. I felt something inside me give way and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely alive, completely relaxed and ready to dive into life. More importantly, I felt completely loved and accepted for who I am.

This became the theme of the rest of the trip: risking, letting go, trying new things, leaving my public face behind and growing closer to loved ones. All of us on this trip, I think, experienced the same things, albeit in different ways and to a different extent. But one thing was definitely true for all of us: these people are the core that we can count on to be there, both emotionally and physically, when we need them. This revelation was healing and in conjunction with all the other lessons I was learning, this trip proved to be another turning point in my journey. I am one step closer to self-discovery and therefore, one step closer to self-gift.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Where's a Time Turner When You Need One!?

Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.
~ Douglas Adams

My apologies for being AWOL for the past few weeks. I have been busy re-reading Books 5 and 6 of Harry Potter in order to have the events fresh in my mind when beginning Book 7, which I have now dived into; spending as much time as I could with a dear friend before sending him off to California; practicing for an upcoming concert I am singing in this coming Saturday and generally being swamped at work. In between that I have been working on a blog post about my recent trip to New Hampshire and meditating on Mr. F’s thoughts on relationships and reading books on the subject as well to prepare another post.

Meanwhile read Mr. F’s insightful posts on the subject of Divine love, human love and relationships and I will try to make time to write and post soon.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

The Lost Weekend

For whatsoeuer from one place doth fall,
Is with the tide vnto an other brought:
For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
~ Edmund Spenser, The Faeire Queen

Last weekend I went to spend some time in the country. I had not been home since April or May, so I was looking forward to some quiet, peaceful time imbibing Nature.

Eternal sigh.

Sometimes a peaceful weekend at home is just that: peaceful. At others, it is the anti-thesis of peace. This particular weekend was....well, guilt is not the opposite of peace but it sure robs the soul of any that it had! The worst kind of guilt is guilt due to sin ~ the knowledge that we have done something wrong. But a close second is mother/father guilt. Father guilt is actually worse than mother guilt, at least from a daughter's perspective.

Ugh.

Anyway, this post is not about my family angst. The point is, that although it was a lost weekend in terms of a peaceful getaway, my trusted friend was waiting for me, patient and beautifully in tune. No song ever written is more true than Billy Joel's My Baby Grand. Mine has definitely been good to me. I sat down, played a few bars of a couple of unfinished songs and then promptly composed a new one.

I cannot remember the last time I composed a whole song from beginning to end in one sitting. It has been awhile. Stagnant. Uninspired. And here I have this new show to put together. Which means old songs to polish and new ones to compose. I have had two unfinished songs mocking me from the stand for weeks. Now, all of a sudden, I have one new one composed. Completed, ready to be critiqued and polished and one of the unfinished ones now also completed.

Maybe I just had not been suffering enough.

Byron said that a man can see further through a tear than through a telescope. That is certainly true. Suffering or pain, strips away the non-essentials and one can see more clearly what is really important and you cannot hide from your emotions or from relationships any longer.

Ahhh, relationships. Yeah.

Anyway...the newly finished song is about regret: wishing that I had said something about how I felt, wishing that I had even known how I really felt....only it's too late. You've moved on, or you can't forgive me. The new "new" song is about the last thread of hope, the last attempt to make things work out: "Maybe it's not written in the stars....But what if we let go and opened our eyes?"

The new song is where I'm at now. The newly finished one is where I don't want to be. I would much rather regret something I did, rather than something I did not do that I should have. But it seems like I am forever missing my cues. In the case of relationships, either I am interested and he is not. Or he is and I am not. Or as is more often the case, he is interested, and I am interested, but neither of us knows the other is interested and then we both lose interest due to lack of real, concrete encouragement. I feel seasick just writing that!

It is sort of like stage fright. You know you have talent. You know you are good. You know people enjoy your music. But that knowledge does nothing to stop your leg from shaking like a leaf every time you take the stage. (And darn it all, it's the leg that's attached to the foot that I use for the damper pedal!) So, I know I should be open, I know I should be vulnerable and step out in faith. That does't stop me from being afraid. And right now, being afraid does stop me from truely enjoying the ride. Don't blame me too much, my journey isn't over yet.

Meanwhile, being crossed in love has been good for me in that it has given me many songs. One that I wrote in college, which thankfully is lost to both memory and bad filing, was even called You Were Good for a Song. Hee!

What can I say? Music is my first love and if heartache be the Muse I have been given, bring it on!

It's totally worth it.

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Sailing Out of Safe Harbors

A ship in safe harbor is safe, but that is not what a ship is built for.
~ William Stedd

As I said yesterday, the real purpose of the trip to New York was to check out the Catholic Underground. My friend Diane is a parishioner at Our Lady of Good Counsel, where CU meets in Manhattan. Having attended their monthly evening concerts and being a fan of my music, Diane suggested that this might be a good fit for a future gig. So I went up to check out the venue.

CU is on break for the summer and will start up again in September. But it was still a good idea to get a look around and get comfortable with the setting. I’ll be heading up that way again in September, and hope to get a better feel for the energy when it’s packed.

After Adoration, Diane, Eric and I went to Fetch for drinks and dessert (very good Margaritas and cheesecake ~ mmmm!) and that is when my life took a dramatic turn. Both Diane and Eric took turns kicking my acreage regarding my music and my hesitancy to share it with a larger audience. The conversation can basically be summed up this way: God has given me the gift of music and if I don’t share it with a wider audience, than that is burying my talent and I will be held accountable for that when I die.

Whoa.

Never thought about it quite in those terms. I have been complimented, asked if a CD could be pre-ordered, told consistently that my music is good and that I have what it takes. For whatever reason, it never made a dent ~ those negative tapes that kept playing in my head drowned them out. I do not know what it was that spoke so clearly to me this time, but that night, I finally got it. And believed it. Believed in the gift and what I need to do with it. The energy produced by this new self-knowledge and acceptance of support was incredible. It was as if I were staring at a train, and the conductor was holding out his hand, inviting me aboard.

No one but another artist understands the interior battles that I live with every day in regards to my art. Self-doubt is a constant companion. One of the lines I tell people at a concert is “Come on ~ clap! Musicians need love!” It always garners a laugh, but I am serious! The soul stands naked in the spotlight. If the audience gives verbal affirmation to the art, then the soul is not as conscious of its nakedness. But if there is no feedback, or (the ultimate slap in the face) bored indifference, then the soul is made painfully aware that its beauty is not appreciated and feels that its art has been cheapened.

So though I now realized that I really had no choice but to continue to grow my talent, and to share it with more people, I was still painfully aware of the risks such sharing entails. This fear has dogged me all my life.

So I kept staring excitedly at the train, but I did not get on.

The next day we met Imelda for lunch. Lovingly, but firmly, she pushed me on to the train, which turned out to be an express! I found myself saying yes to performing a benefit concert near her home in Connecticut. And she really didn’t allow me to say no by graciously offering to act as my agent in the area, as I have never performed outside of the Washington, D.C. area and am unfamiliar with venues. That will all change in September when I premiere my new show, The Edge of Love: Finding My Voice.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends and fans who have always believed in the music. The journey is far from over, but I know I could not have come even this far without your love, support, prayers and tough talk! Thanks for joining me on this wild ride ~ y’all are a blessing!!

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

NYC: The Southern View

One doesn't discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
~ Andre Gide

I have been meaning to write about my recent trip to New York City for a couple of weeks now. It was a life changing weekend for me and I needed a little time to process everything that happened. As such, I will do a couple of posts to cover the trip details. This first one will focus more on the city itself and the food.

I had been to New York City once before, my junior year of college, on a weekend trip with a group of friends to hear the Tallis Scholars perform works by Tomas Luis Victoria at the Church of St. Ignatius in Manhattan. We arrived at night, in time for the concert, but not in time to get a good walk around downtown. So I count this last trip as my first real look at New York City.

Sullivan grew up in Brooklyn, knows his way around and had friends we could stay with, so he came along to act as guide. And thank goodness he did! This little Southern Belle would have been completely lost! I am not quite a country bumpkin, but close enough to warrant and be exceedingly grateful to have a Yankee city slicker around. ;-)

The main purpose of this trip was two-fold: 1) to check out The Catholic Underground as a possible future gig and 2) to scout things out for the big New York trip with about 5 to 8 friends in mid-July. We took the bus from Chinatown in D.C. ~ for $35 roundtrip, you really can’t beat it! We would have spent more than that on gas alone! And our driver must have had NASCAR dreams as a child ~ we made it in under 4 hours. Even with my own mad NASCAR-esque driving skills, I could never have made it up that fast!

One of the first things we did once we arrived was meet Sullivan’s old family friend, Carl, who I immediately fell in love with. Carl is a stereotypical Brooklyn-ite ~ Italian descent, retired NYC cop, accent, attitude and all! He was a real gem whose wry wisdom and dry humour kept me in stitches practically the whole weekend. He picked us up and we went to meet my friend Diane for a late lunch at Katz’s Deli (where apparently Harry met Sally ~ never saw the movie) and I had my first taste of New York City: the biggest hard salami sandwich I have ever seen and half-sour pickles. Half-sour? Yes. I thought it was weird too ~ but they were delicious! It was almost like eating a cucumber fresh from the garden, with just a slight pickle taste to it. I also ordered fries and they were the best fries I have ever had…anywhere…period.

But what impressed me most was the friendliness of the people! I was surprised to find that the stereotype of New Yorkers being grumpy and not talking to anyone is not really true ~ and yes I do live in a Southern cocoon. The guys behind the counter at Katz’s were sweet, funny and acted like we had been friends forever. It was a breath of fresh air. I felt like I was back in my hometown. It was a lovely experience and one that tickled Sullivan to no end. He and I are forever having lively yet playful debates on North vs. South. ;-)

My next foray into New York cuisine was on Sunday. We met my other friend, Imelda, for lunch at a downtown Manhattan pizzeria. More than once Sullivan and I have debated pizza as well: he insisting that New York pizza is far superior to any pizza we have in Virginia. To which I would respond with rolling my eyes. No more! My apologies, Sullivan. When it comes to New York pizza, I am in complete agreement with you ~ no pizza I have ever had in Virginia comes close! I now find myself longing for another slice and I think driving 4 or 5 hours for a good pie is not unreasonable! :-D

After lunch, we strolled down Broadway for awhile, where I bought the most sweet-smelling roses (Janet, you would have appreciated them!), posed in front of Juilliard and then Imelda made me close my eyes and then led me to the front of the Metropolitan Opera House. When I opened my eyes, it was the most glorious scene: the beautiful fountains in front of the Met were dancing lightly, almost in time with the strings playing Pachabel’s Canon in D in the background as a misty rain began to fall. It was a magical ending to an epic weekend.

Tomorrow: Sailing out of Safe Harbors

Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela

Musica Sacra: June 2007

Why waste money on psychotherapy when you can listen to the B Minor Mass?
~ Michael Torke

Mea culpa! I was in New York City this past weekend (a visit worthy of a future post) and did not have a chance to post the music list for Saint John the Beloved. Here it is for last weekend and for the upcoming Sundays. The choir will go on break in July and August and resume singing at Saint John’s in September.

This week it is not the b minor Mass, but the g minor Mass by Ralph Vaughn Williams. Truly a thing of beauty! Hope to see y’all there!

Holy Trinity (Cycle C) ~ June 3, 2007

Opening #201 All Hail, Adored Trinity / Introitus
Offertory Offertorium / Motet: Duo Seraphim – J. Handl
Communion Communio / Motet: Jam Sol Recedit – M. Franck
Recessional # 343 Holy, Holy, Holy

Missa Tertii Toni – Costanzo Porta

Corpus Christi ~ June 10, 2007

Opening # 213 Alleluia, Sing to Jesus / Introitus
Offertory Offertorium / Motet: Caro Mea – F. Guerrero
Communion Communio / Solo: Panis Angelicus – M. A. Charpentier
Recessional # 345 Holy God, We Praise Thy Name
Motet during Incensation: O Esca Viatorum - Isaac

Mass in G – R. Vaughan Williams

Ordinary XI ~ June 17, 2007 (Father’s Day) (No choir)

Birth of John the Baptist ~ June 24, 2007

Opening # 247 By All Your Saints Still Striving / Introitus
Offertory Offertorium / Motet: Jesu Dulcis Memoria – T. L. Victoria
Communion Communio / Chant: Ut Queant Laxis – Gregorian
Recessional # 617 Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones

Missa St. Joannis de Deo - F. J. Haydn

Oremus pro invicem,

Mikaela