Hello again. I have to report that the Valentine lunch was really great. I would give it five stars as far as the venue and the food went. The restaurant was really elegant and we had two round tables for the thirty of us. There were many more people from other communities around the area, and there wasn’t a spare seat in the house.
The starter was a mixed green salad, with apples, pecans and gorgonzola, tossed with a citrus vinaigrette dressing; delicious. I was really pleased to be sitting next to a lady who I have come across several times before at various functions. She is about my mom’s age, and such a character. We get on really well together. She did make me laugh when the soprano started singing.
She had one of those overly vibratoed voices that really wobble around between the notes. I’m sure she was excellent in her younger days, but she had us wincing every time she went for the high notes. My friend suddenly turned to me and said, “I don’t like her voice much. She’s screeching.” She was exactly right, and I’m afraid it didn’t get any better as the show went on. I kept getting dug in the ribs, as we both tried not to giggle. Anyway, the two male singers were much more listenable to, but when I looked around the room after a while, there was a glazed look on many people’s faces, especially the men who had been dragged there by their spouses. I also saw at least a couple of people who looked as though they had dozed off.
The tenor was Cuban, and had a lovely voice, but it was strange to hear him sing, “On the street where you live,” with a Cuban accent. He said that when he came to America, he got two things for free that he’d never had before, a social security number and an accent. I knew exactly what he meant, being in the same position myself with regards to the accent. Listening to the accompanist, a professor of music, reminded me of the days when I used to accompany various singers. I especially noticed how he had to compensate for their late or early entry into parts of the songs. I found that most singers don’t have a great sense of timing, which can make things a little hairy for the pianist, who has to ad lib quite a lot to keep up with them.
The baritone, the best of the three, looked a bit like Pavarotti, and gave a great rendition of the Toreador Song from Carmen.
We were more than ready for our main course after the first half of the show. Hubby had extremely tender and tasty Tournedos of beef with mushroom sauce, whilst I had Filet of Talapia, a mild white fish, sauteed in white wine sauce with raisins, onion and peppers. I couldn’t fault the food at all, so don’t understand the one star review that a couple of people had given on the internet site. After the second half of the show, which was songs from shows such as My Fair Lady, Oklahoma, and Phantom of the Opera, we had our dessert, a delicious Profiterole filled with coffee ice cream, topped with chocolate sauce. The only problem with this, was that there was only one each.
On the way out, I stopped to have a look at the piano, a black baby grand, and was horrified to see that not only was it very scratched, but it was covered in a thick layer of dust.The Maitre’D came over to chat, and told me that they had inherited it from a school which had closed down, so I told him that it badly needed dusting, and that whenever I go to play anywhere, I always have to carry a duster with me, as most places never think to look after their pianos and keep them clean. I don’t think it sank in though.
We decided to go to the club for sundowners, and as the barman had said he would love to hear me play the piano, I plucked up courage and did so. My little recital was very well received, and I think it may become a regular thing for me on a Thursday evening.
Tonight we are dressing up for the Valentine’s dinner dance, so wish hubby and I good luck on the dance floor. Pray that nobody watches our feet as we do the soft shoe shuffle.
Have a great weekend everyone. Chat again soon.