Stupendously tart, crisp and perfumed with a wine scent, these lovely Pink Pearl apples absolutely made our day one recent lunchtime.
From a local Watsonville grower, they were discovered at New Leaf market.
Beyond even Gala, Braeburn and Newtown.
In his final opera, Parsifal—whose motifs had been built over a thirty-year period—Wagner fulfilled his vision of operatic “music theater” as something that would go far beyond the classical notion of a drama told in song and music.
The Parsifal of this season’s Bayreuth Festival—direction by Stefan Herheim and set design by Heike Scheele—was in clear and stunning resonance with Wagner’s intention, and used electrifying manipulation of sets, lighting, costume, movement, and voice to achieve a fusion of space, time, and music.
When this production was first mounted several years ago it produced shock and awe. This season the sight of crimson National Socialist banners unfurling swastikas from the ceiling, while the young Parsifal rises from center stage in (more…)
If I say “Munich”—most Americans will think, “cuckoo clocks, bratwurst and beer.” But for me Munich meant “Dürer, Weisswurst and Baroque architecture.” More importantly—for the purposes of my trip last week—Munich is the gateway to Bayreuth, a small, prosperous Franconian burg which is famous for one thing. One very important thing. Bayreuth is the capital of planet Wagner, where every July and August, those lucky enough to score expensive tickets gather to sit in an acoustically-perfect opera house and hear some of the greatest music ever composed.
That’s why I went. To feast on the operas of Richard Wagner. But since I also have graduate student memories of pilgrimages to great museums in the capital of Bavaria, IÂ made sure I scheduled time to visit the magnificent collections of Munich’s three grand art palaces, linked by the name “Pinakothek.”
My travel connections flowed easily into each other—the Lufthansa flight morphed into a convenient airport shuttle ride ($12 for 45 minute ride from airport to Munich’s main train station) from which I simply walked across the street to my strategically-located hotel.
Campari and a ham sandwich helped me decompress after the 11-hour plane trip. And the next day I boarded two trains—one the bullet train to Nürnberg, the other a regional train to Bayreuth—and 2+ hours later I was in Bayreuth, where the Festival was beginning its final week.
Make no mistake, Bayreuth knows just how much it owes to the cult of Richard Wagner. During the summer festival devoted to his operas, every hotel and shop window proudly displays a portrait of the controversial maestro. (more…)
Drenched with sweat, still filled with the rapturous chromaticisms of Tristan und Isolde, I joined two companions for what became a ritual glass of Veuve Clicquot at an outdoor concession in the opera house gardens. Valhalla Bistro. Every tavern, drug store and street is named for a character in Wagner’s oeuvre, or for one of his operas. Two hours later, at the second intermission, we went into the adjoining restaurant—gorgeous with crimson walls and acres of stemware—and had a surprisingly fine dinner. (I say “surprisingly” because this place is, after all, serving sit-down dinners for several hundred people during each intermission—all orders placed in advance and ready the minute you sit down.) I’d saved all year for this trip. And I was ready to enjoy it. Here shown is a Thai-seasoned entree of crab, veggies and pappardalles.
Operas aside, there was much to enjoy in Bayreuth. Well, just enough to fill those first three days before my operas began. (more…)
The three days of opera each cast their own enveloping auras. After Tristan und Isolde—a punishing 5 1/2 hour physical ordeal of heat and wooden seats—I sat almost speechless over Fernet Branca with a few other opera-goers and felt the music swirl inside me. I had undergone a symphonic transfusion from one century to another.
The second night’s Tannhäuser—staged as a multi-story postmodern biofuel factory ignited by intense colors and unbelievable music—showcased the celebrated Christian Thieleman at the podium, utterly confirming his star status. We dined afterwards, under the stars at an Italian restaurant close to the opera house. Sicilian Syrah by Planeta accompanied beautiful salads, olives, gamberetti and vitello tonnato. Spectacular food after spectacular music.
The final opera evening I literally tore into a baguette and bratwurst surrounded by Daniel Craig lookalikes in tuxes. After two hours of the most astonishing Parsifal ever mounted, I was ravenous. And there were still two more acts to go!
And then it was back to Munich, sharing the bullet train ride with music critic Jens Laursen who confirmed that I’d just heard the finest Parsifal in recent history. (Photo above is of hops fields outside Munich.)
Under darkening skies I went with the flow and drifted towards (more…)
A book of sensory adventure: The rituals, passions and discoveries of an engaged life.