Flashback from visiting family last August; singing “Song of the Clyde” as we drive along the River Clyde in Scotland, with my cousin Reuben (at the wheel), Aunt Polly (professional opera singer and teacher, back), and Cora.
Ciao amici!
Last Sunday morning, I was slogging through the pancake routine after a miserable night of sleep. Grumpy, I began fixing an espresso when Bobby turned on Sunday Best by Surfaces.
Within seconds, the girls pulled me into a dance party around the island, intuiting that I needed it in only the way children know how to do.
I gripped their maple-sticky paws and threw my body into the song.
We flowed into Somebody That I Used To Know by Gyote and ended with Jarabi by the legendary Sona Jobarteh, collapsing in laughter.
A few loud, soul-thumping songs later, and my mood had shifted.
“I know this,” I thought to myself. “I know that music and dance always makes me feel better.” (But why do I forget to turn to it?)
In fact, ever since Cora had returned from seeing Sona Jobarteh on Friday with Bobby, I had been watching the effect of song and dance on my daughters.
I had encouraged Bobby to take Cora to see the “kora” instrument live, her musical namesake, while I stayed home to watch Harry Potter with my eldest.
Cora called me at 9:30 pm on the car ride home, far past her bedtime.
“Mamma!” She roared into the phone. “It was the BEST concert I’ve ever seen!” She was LIT UP. “Daddy told me to close my eyes and listen, but I couldn’t. She was too beautiful. It was AMAZING! SO many people were dancing!”
She recalled different songs in striking detail, reciting choruses in the Mandika language that Sona had encouraged the audience to sing. Her enthusiasm for Sona’s music was so contagious that her big sister began requesting Sona’s songs in the car this week, belting out the words herself.
This concert came on the heels of a family trip to the local guitar store last week, where we replaced the thoroughly destroyed guitar that Bobby and I bought in our 20’s at a market in Nicaragua. We took turns strumming the different guitars in the sound booth, exposing the girls to the variety that exist, and left with a gorgeous second-hand Taylor and two harmonicas.
In these moments of cherishing music, I feel indebted to my mother for raising me in a home where music was treasured.
Mamma loved (and still loves) to sing. Her operatic alto-soprano voice would fill every corner of the house, practicing the latest piece from her teacher (and she still sings in a top-notch local choir today).
Our family of six survived long road trips with sing-a-longs, from Raffi to REM. And when we visited my paternal aunt and her husband in Liverpool (both professional opera singers), we’d spend hours gathered around the piano singing. To reinforce the notion of music, we’d visit the Beatles Museum, Liverpool’s claim to fame.
(When we’re with these relatives, we still end evenings together playing instruments and singing, and are prone to breaking out in song on car rides, in the kitchen, and really, whenever the moment calls for it.)
As children, my siblings and I were all encouraged (read: required) to play instruments, starting with the grand piano my mother invested in, and which became a central feature in our home.
I went on to try the cello and stand-up bass before committing to the oboe, because someone told me it was the hardest instrument to play. (A type A perfectionist and competitive identical twin, I took the bait.) Nearly 9 years and umpteen symphony performances later, I traded in the oboe for guitar.
We were such a musical family that my mother took pains to memorialize this era with a professional studio portrait of us posing with our instruments (face palm). This monstrously-sized picture now hovers over my children in the playroom.
“You see, your mamma and all her siblings played instruments, and so shall thee!”
Can you guess which is me?
Despite all the battles I fought about practicing, one of the biggest gifts my mother gave me was music.
Not only learning to play, but also to appreciate musical performances in many forms. Living just outside NYC, she hunted down discount tickets to the Metropolitan Opera House, Broadway, and any local performances she caught wind of.
I went on to become an avid festival-goer, and spent more than one summer catching segments of a Phish tour. I wouldn’t say she wholly approved of this direction in music appreciation (especially when I decided to dreadlock my hair), but nonetheless, I was hooked on music.
Hang-outs and parties with friends always - and often still - involved a good, old-fashioned jam session.
Eventually, I fell in love with a man who is a talented percussionist and music aficionado, and shared my desire for music to be a second language in our home. Bobby tapped drum beats on my belly when I was pregnant with the girls, and has helped them learn to play a variety of instruments that are lovingly strewn about our house.
The girls are now taking music lessons, and I am walking the line of enforcing practice while nurturing their love for playing, just like Mamma did.
At this juncture in my life, my early 40’s, I’m realizing just how important music is and how much I want to instill this love in my children. Music can be played, shared, and enjoyed indefinitely, whereas passions like soccer have the shelf life of our knees.
Like cooking (here it comes…), music is something we can always turn to. It has the power to shift our mood and mind. It has the power to bring people together, and open doorways into other homes and cultures. It is a limitless well of creativity and inspiration. And, you don’t have to be “good” at dancing, playing, singing, or even listening to music to enjoy and benefit from it.
Food is similar. Cooking can be wildly creative, comforting, inspirational, bonding, and fun. As I described in my last post, food is an anchor in our every day life that has the potential to help us feel nourished, connected, creative, inspired, and loved.
I hear those of you saying, “but I don’t like cooking and I have to do it.”
But I’m curious, is there any aspect of cooking that brings you joy? And, do you have to cook every day? How can you structure your life to allow for some cooking, in a way that feeds you?
For example, do you enjoy…
Planning recipes
Shopping at the grocery store
Purchasing food from particular places (for example, I LOVE visiting my local bakery and picking up fresh produce from my CSA farm)
Following a recipe
Experimenting with inventing your own recipe
The tactile nature of cooking: touching, smelling, tasting
The scientific nature of cooking: tweaking techniques or recipes until you get them just right
Cooking with your children, family, or friends
Cooking for others
Cooking by yourself with a glass of wine (or other beverage of choice) and your favorite music playing
Sharing a meal with family or friends
How can you lean into that one joy-factor (or more, if they exist) to help you enjoy cooking more at home?
Perhaps there is one night a week where you can cook a meal, exactly the way you want to. The rest of the nights can be simple: a mix of sharing the responsibility with a partner, take-out, an omelette with crusty bread, frozen chicken nuggets…
I’d love to hear, what part of cooking has the potential to light you up?
I recently mentioned in a note that Spring is a difficult season for me in the kitchen. My desire to improvise is low. I am over hearty stews, squash, and general Winter fare, but fresh produce has barely reared its head in these northern parts.
That’s when I remember the pains I took to stock my pantry! Time to start working through those jars of jam and freezer stores…
I want to leave you with a recipe that features one of my favorite pantry ingredients - apricot jam - and is the perfect song to spring: Apricot-Ginger Glazed Salmon with Rice & Quick-Pickled Cukes (GF).
It’s easy, foolproof, and feels like a breath of fresh air to counter the last throes of Winter.
Obviously, you can also buy apricot jam from the store (we’re not purists here).
So grab your jam or your guitar - or both - and start playin’!
♡ Emma
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