BWV 1048

I couldn’t find the digitized cover for Brandenburg #3 by Musica Antiqua Köln, but that’s the core of what I write here tonight.

i recently re-read some first-time reactions to the 1986-87 recording by Musica Antiqua Köln of the Bach Brandenburg Concertos on the J.S. Bach Website, with the surprise then of listeners. They complained it was awful; it was too fast. Gross.

Come on! These players capture the spirit of the music, with such precision and dynamics to awaken one’s soul. Strap on some headphones, and you’ll go for a wholly ride (to quote, recently, the actor/scientologist Tom Cruise).

I have listened to this work hundreds of times; during my high school years, we’d roll down the windows, and turn-up good old “Brandenburg 3″ on repeat. It would later catch my attention in a work I wrote for a graduate class on baroque musicology and the musica poetica. While I own many recordings, this one, and this track, the second (some call it the third) movement of #3, is the best.

Even after some 20 years.

Hearing inside your head

A friend of mine recently shared the experience she had when listening to a story on NPR about deaf people who can actually hear.

No, they don’t hear the world around them, but their brains make up songs and sounds when their mental circuitry is underutilized. Making up for no hearing, in other words.

She expressed joy at hearing this because she thought, well, maybe Beethoven could really hear his own music after all! In thinking about this, I meditated on the concept of hearing sound, and more specifically music, in your head.

I have composed many pieces of music in my head. I never wrote them down, I cannot repeat them, but I have had the ability to sit down, concentrate, and make up complete pieces of music in my head.

The problem with me, it seems, is that the sound is not quite as rich, or dimensional as it is when you actually hear real music. Something less than monaural, something less than mono and black and white. But the friend was convinced by the story that deaf people have a better, more dimensional experience, than I ever could.

I have no doubt Beethoven could hear the music he wrote in his head. He was a genius, no matter what, but he found a way to communicate the passion of his creativity with others by transcribing his musical ideas. The question remains, however, was it “as good” as authentic hearing with ears. I doubt it. To me, that isn’t the sad part. The sad part is that he may never have been able to confirm for himself by hearing it with his own ears.

Nigel on Bach

Fast, for sure, but it made me smile quite a bit.

Music 423

Among the classes I took in graduate school, many were less challenging, intellectually speaking, than many undergraduate courses. Yet, there remains one course that challenged me the most, Music 423 at Case Western Reserve University in 1997 with Professor John Seuss. The class was one centered on musical history and philosophy and aesthetics. It started out with 5 students in the class, and on the last day, when we had to do student presentations, there were just 2 of us left.

Using my new Fujitsu ScanSnap, I’ve decided to post my 3-ring binder for this course online for others. It’s a rich trove of thought. Perhaps you can find it more useful than I have.

Music 423 Notes and Binder (PDF - 50 MB).

Mac Book Air

I don’t know why I feel compelled to speak about this, but I do.

There are a lot of people who don’t like the new MacBook Air from Apple, announced this week at Macworld 2008.

A colleague whom I work with mentioned he thought it would be the Mac Cube, take 2. Revolutionary, perhaps, but not a big seller.

I’d like one, myself, but I am not sure I need one. It would make an excellent machine for reading websites, checking mail, writing blog posts, and controlling music to my wireless hi-fi.

But the complaints swirl about a number of different areas:

• too big
• no Ethernet
• no optical disc
• needs a second computer
• no Firewire
• too expensive

I mean,cry me a river, folks. If you don’t want it, then don’t get it. Apple makes perfectly good laptops that have more ports, more power, more flexibility. They’re not that thick, either.

As always, Apple is making a statement here with Air. Thin is in, sure, but let’s cut back on the storage media and wires. It was gutsy with the iMac, and it’s about time someone challenged us with a product like the Air.

Corporate environment? Get a bigger laptop. One with a Kensington lock, etc.

Education? Same deal; get the cheaper laptop. No kid needs a $1800 laptop, when a $1000-1200 will do.

I think Apple does get in trouble when they try to establish that “3rd” in-between level in their product matrix. But it worked for iPod nano: small like a shuffle, but the screen/features of a classic. The Cube, I liked it. I’m sorry it didn’t catch on; it was perhaps too evolutionary for its time. But when you have two products that do not differentiate themselves terribly, putting a third in-between can be confusing to the customer. They’re going to see the extremes, and the product in the center suffers.

Apple needs a compelling reason to sell a super-thin computer. The space savings with the cube was negligible. Space-saving with this Air is several degrees richer: its design, new trackpad, and weight/physical dimensions are going to appeal to a good number of folks who want a good computing experience without the bulk.

I know for one, a very close friend bought the MacBook Pro because it was silver (aluminum). “Don’t like black, white looks cheap.” Okay, that’s your opinion, and you bought based on color. Now, he could have gotten the color he wanted at a cheaper price. He never uses Ethernet; he backs up to a Firewire drive (which also supports USB 2). Same screen technology, slightly more area. He would have been a good candidate.

My friend Todd thinks they’re going to sell like hotcakes. “Hotcakes, John, like hotcakes! So thin and supple… they’ll be the most popular Mac ever!” He may even have drooled. I’m less optimistic, but I don’t see 2008 as the year of cube, part 2.

David Daniels and Martin Katz

Last night, I saw countertenor David Daniels in a concert at the University of Richmond with pianist Martin Katz. Together, they performed a program of works including those by Brahms, Peri, Durante, Frescobaldi, Reynaldo Hahn, Handel, Vaughan Williams, Quilter, among others in a program that spanned a wide gamut of time, languages, and styles.

Imagine my surprise when I assumed he’d be appearing with the Italian baroque ensemble that is due to perform tomorrow night. But the fact that the entire program was not baroque was no matter.

Both Daniels and Katz are remarkable musicians, and every piece of music was a gem that they obviously savored. A great program then, memorable too, for the remarkable affect offered by several pieces.

There were a few things I noticed that I thought I’d comment upon. First, Daniels audibly was clearing his throat several times and I found this distasteful. It’s like someone who doesn’t want to blow their nose, and is sucking-up phlegm. I mean, if you’ve got it, and you’ve got to sing, I understand. But it was kind of odd.

Second, Daniels appeared several times as if he was going to fall over. As a concertizer, he really does get into each song. He was almost as interesting to watch as he was to listen to. The fact that the entire program was sung from memory on his part was on the verge of amazing.

Third, at times Katz seemed to overpower Daniels. Balance between two musicians is a challenge, sure, but with a countertenor, someone who has a restricted dynamic range, Mr. Katz needed to back off a few notches in a few places.

Fourth, Katz was less effective with a favorite piece by Frescobaldi, where his style at the keyboard used pedal and sounded quasi-romantic. The performance was great, but I’d like things “all baroque” or all “avante-garde,” but not some mushy area in the center.

Fifth, is it me, or is Daniels’ continuous use of vibrato throughout his singing, even bridging styles, authentic, when it comes to a baroque singing style? His voice is in fact very good, and like critics, I’d dare to say he’s a front runner in the countertenor stars. But at times, my mind wandered, thinking if a more “straight” sound would be appropriate for the baroque works. It’s not a criticism, as I haven’t been reading on the latest historical performance research… but more an aesthetic question.

In all, a nice recital; and we were treated to three encores.

Beethoven String Trios, Thomas Tallis

Right now, I’m listening to Perlman, Zuckerman, and Harrell perform Beethoven’s Trios for Strings, an EMI-issue that I purchased from Borders Books and Music in Rochester, NY, likely, in 1993. It, along with so much music, has for me associations with place and time.

We studied in great detail each of Beethoven’s String Trios in my music theory classes at the University of Rochester. Our professor, Dr. Daniel Harrison, chose these for some specific reason, I’m sure. This was not a history class, mind you, but theory. We studied the structure of each piece, the harmonic details at play, and we were quizzed on being able to recognize an excerpt of the pieces–specifically, what work and what movement.

I am not sure why he gave us these quizzes. Except, to say, you got to know the pieces really well, and you sort of ended up liking them a lot. I think when you spend a lot of time with something, you appreciate it (or end up loathing it; that’s an option too).

The String Trios are far less-well known than Beethoven’s more prodigious genre, the string quartet. While I own all of both collections, it’s the trios I come back to most often for listening. I know the characteristics of each one, and simply like them all.

I’m listening now to the Scherzo of op.9 no.3, and it puts me right back into the classroom: I see some of the faces of my academic colleagues. I can smell pencil (freshly sharpened, ready to strike on the paper to write that this is, in fact, the Scherzo from op. 9, no. 3). I remember writing to my friend Neumann at the time, telling him in a letter that “Beethoven was a genius,” despite the fact, in high school, I had declared him boring.

For me, Bach was #1. But now Beethoven was approaching as competition. It was soon after, probably another year, that I had asked for the set of all of Beethoven’s piano sonatas. The set I received was the one by Richard Goode, on Nonesuch. All 10 CDs.

It was in graduate school that I asked again for a set, this time, the Emerson Quartet with Beethoven’s string quartets. To this day, I have favorites from both the quartet and sonata collections, but it is the string trios to me that are the more interesting and accessible.

Having written my own string quartet, you wouldn’t believe how difficult it seems (to me, fellow composers) to write only for three voices. Being a rather anti-social person, you wouldn’t believe how frustrating it is to have lost all the personal relationships that I had when I first discovered all of this fascinating music.

Each us there, together in a room, set with the assignment of getting to know old Beethoven’s trios for strings better than we knew our favorite music, connected by our location and time (Rochester, NY, mid-1990s), by our professor, by our interest (music), by our age (on the cusp of turning 20), each of us intelligent with unknown futures, etc., etc., etc. What would become of us? What has become of us?

My searching thoughts feel more appropriate listening to Thomas Tallis’ Spem in Allium, a 40-part motet for 40 voices. We studied that in music history class, described by our professor (Dr. Massimo Ossi) as “renaissance surround sound.” It just happens to be the next track on my iTunes after the Beethoven trios (organized by performers: Perlman, Peter Phillips). What awesome sounds.

I have heard this piece in person (some years ago, the Tallis Scholars came to Richmond, VA, and performed this at the University of Richmond). How I long to find fellow enthusiasts. It’s a shame to go through life appreciating this art in solitude.

(Not to end on such a sad note; but the Tallis is not exactly as happy or optimistic as the Beethoven.)

Speaker Cable

I have been doing a lot of reading (online, magazines) over the past year on reviews of different audio components, including speaker cable. What I have found is, if you want to believe something, you can likely find someone out there who has written it. Not great, when you’re trying to make an informed decision.

What makes me laugh about it all, in an unfortunate way, are so many reviews that confuse and obfuscate terms that are borrowed both from musical and technical lexicons. You’ll see things written like harmonic cohesion or more realistic soundstage. I no doubt know it is difficult to describe what you hear with words, but some of what is written boils down to nonsense.

Or that a certain cable is better for one type of music (i.e., rock, classical, jazz, etc.).

That’s not to say that some of these folks like what they are listening to.

What makes choosing components in a stereo more difficult is the variety of vintages, brands, and types of configurations you can create and place together. No doubt, we’d call this synergy between the components. Personally, I am not even sure if “synergy” exists. It seems to make sense, but the word itself always makes me suspicious.

This weekend I replaced my speaker cable. I have been on an upgrade path for my stereo since I first acquired my first hi-fi system in 1996. This system still does exist (everything but the cables) connected today to my computer. However, it was replaced by larger, costlier equipment in my main listening room. This weekend, I retired my first set of speaker wire. At the time it was sold to me, the dealer told me it would be a “good match” for my bookshelf speakers and integrated amplifier.

Today, I am using a preamplifier with two monobloc amplifiers. Somewhere, I bought into the notion that “separates” are better, and what this means is that the signal is mushed side by side in stereo in the computer (where all my music is stored), is separated coming out of the digital to analogue converter (DAC), never to be together again, until it’s born as sound.

With my new cables , the sound is separated again, in theory, as I am using a bi-wiring option on my speakers. The treble is taken up in one dedicated pair of wires, while the bass is taken up on a separate pair.

You read that the quality of speaker cable will affect the sound. Now, I will admit, my 1996 purchase was not cheap. I figured I could pay $20-30 for some cable back then. When I paid what I did, I figured this was pretty good stuff! Today, not accounting for inflation, I’ve spent 10 times the amount on the new wires. I feared that I wouldn’t hear a difference, and that what some of what I’d read might be true: “the cable doesn’t really make a difference.” In other words, were those folks who simply went out and got a big spool of 16-gauge wire at the electronics store really smart?

Of course, I’m still getting used to the sound. But I figure it this way. The sound has to travel along a signal path from the computer to the speakers. The signal length inside the equipment is relatively short, so the sound spends an insignificant amount of time traveling those wires compared to what they travel along the speaker wire. Interconnects are like 3 feet. The speaker cable is 10 feet. That more than 3 times the length. If anything is “coloring” the sound, I wager, it’s the wire between the different components.

The sound with the new wires is definitely different–no reservations! Several tracks, in fact, sound like they’re from entirely new recordings. I’m searching for words to describe some of the differences, but my mind is choosing some of the same audiophile babble I’ve been reading: soundstage, air, transparency, etc. Off the top of my head, this is what I’ve noticed:

• more detail
• more bass
• different color

I’m not equipped to speak the techno-babble. But I am to speak for the music-babble. Many recordings now sound more musical, where as what I am saying is, I’m hearing more of the music. Perhaps it is dynamics, I am not sure. But the sound is even more detailed than before, and I feel as if this has been a good investment, because I’m getting more out of the other pieces of the hi-fi puzzle that I’ve invested in.

As a former practicing musician, the details matter. Any investment to reveal more details is an investment in better enjoyment of music.

Marini: Passacaglio

I remember it still: the first time I had really gotten to know the famous Marini Passacaglio for strings. I was in graduate school. The piece was not new. I had the score, though, and sat in the “listening room.” I had secured an early Musica Antiqua Köln recording from the library’s archives.

The piece is seductive, yet simple. On the page, it doesn’t look like much. It is odd in that it can be played with one optional (middle) line. Yes, that phrase keeps repeating. But what makes it art, I say, is how it takes the human capacity for passion when performing it. Like a piece of putty that “takes” the impression of your thumb, or a memory-foam pillow that “takes” the impression of your tired head, this piece of music takes-on the impression of the performers especially well.

But unlike a solo sonata or concerto, its complexity lies in the fact that all players have to sort of think as one. It’s the string ensemble that can stretch the line, add nuance, emphasize a line, etc., that makes a successful performance all the more challenging.

For instance, when I compare the thin, hollow sound of Romanesca in their recording, it’s one particular sound world. Innocent, perhaps; the taste of your first cappuccino, without too many calories nor too much sugar. Passion is in store in terms of volume and intensity, at least in a more arch-form portrayed by Manze and associates.

Musica Antiqua Köln, on the other hand, have a more deluxe string sound, perhaps they’re better at the ensemble concept, rich, subtle, and fat. Their idea passion comes in the form of smaller moments, used throughout each strain of the repeated bass.

Europa Galante, from their Legrenzi album, also tackle the famous Passacaglio, but at a much faster pace, without the repeats. A thin sound some of them have in this recording, but what’s most striking is the percussive harpsichord in the bass. I almost miss Biondi’s star role here, I half expect him to break-out in 32nd note runs above the repeated harmony, but we never quite get it; nor do we ever get the polish of Romanesca or rich strings of MAK.

Some folks wouldn’t find this work of particular interest. But as an example of early Italian baroque string music, and one using a dance form, it might sound bland. The right performance, however, can reveal the art beneath the tones: echoes of subtle, sensual human emotion realized through melodic gesture and supported through harmonies resolving out of dissonance to consonance.

Ratings

I believe it is within human nature to rate things and find their place (their relationships) to others in the same category. I am no expert at this, and this might be obvious, but I came to this realization today driving home.

I have friends who work for a company that assigns a level to employees’ status within the company. They use the label “tier.” I should say “used to,” as now they’ve switched to titles, but everyone still uses the tier number. Often, if you bring up someone’s name, and they are unfamiliar, their tier is mentioned as a way to identify them. Everyone immediately knows how they rate compared to everyone else, in regards, at least, to experience, pay, or rank.

When I review a restaurant, and strictly speaking, we’re talking about the food (70%), value (5%), and the service (25%), I assign a number of stars. 5 levels. In the company, they have 8 tiers. And today, a friend says she rates people along 4 levels.

“They range from very attractive down to someone so hideous, it’s disgusting.” Wow. But I learned that this system wasn’t talking so much about physical appearance, as a more complex algorithm that defined them as a person. “By attractive, I mean someone who you want to speak with, talk to; you enjoy their company; by repulsive, I mean someone who doesn’t make sense, is always a downer, and treats people like garbage.”

I found it interesting that if we rate things, we apply plateaus or levels to the rating. This seems to be a big part of the system at play.

• Restaurants and movies, 5 stars
• Hot or Not, 10 levels
• Personal Qualities, 4 levels
• Work Organization Chart, 8 levels

I think what folks are doing is approximating where something belongs along a continuum, between polar opposites. It’s like in iTunes, where I can assign 1-5 stars to a song. We all seem to understand this rating concept pretty well, either because it is in fact part of human nature, or else, it’s so common in today’s society.

I find it difficult, however, to rate music. I certainly have some favorite songs/works, but where do you draw the line? In classical, at the movement level? Or the entire work? For pop, is it the whole album, or just one song? Many times when I’m rating pictures I took with my camera, I start with a binary filter: good and bad. Then I might take the goods and split them into two levels. Now we have bad, good, and great. And we could keep doing this, diving down, splitting hairs, for just about anything we might want to find along some continuum we’ve dreamed up.

When I review an album here on biberfan.org, I typically do not give it a rating. I find it too difficult in music. And I’d have a hard time rating someone–a real person–too, at least on the holistic type of qualities my friend identified. Physical appearance is one thing, but personality, empathy, intelligence, and personality are far too confusing.

What if you took, however, 5 people (or 5 recordings) and then were asked to put those in order: from least favorite to most favorite… might you favor recordings you’ve lived with longer? Or might the bias go the other way, to the newest, most arresting new recording? And with people: I can’t imagine if I had been in love with someone, who died, then fell in love again, and was asked to put those in some order… wouldn’t you have to pick the person you were still with? Or if you didn’t, would you be so honest?

I think the human nature portion of ratings work on one level that’s pretty incredible. Walking down a busy city street, I can see plenty of folks I might find attractive, and if the sample is small enough, I could probably pretty quickly put them into some order. I might be just as good with short excerpts of music. But when asked to articulate the reasons why, and to scrutinize the details, I think it all becomes more complex.

And lastly, what does it say of us who do rate things? Is it a undesirable behavior to be articulating this rating business? In writing this little essay, I know I’ve admitted to myself too many times I might be in a constantly rating mode. Hyper-critical, perhaps. Luckily, I don’t think reviewing some CDs is too bad… but I’ll stay away from more touchy or controversial things.

Here’s Looking at You

Here’s Looking at You.

People describing people they are looking at.

Goodbye, Word

Not everyone likes using Microsoft Word. I bought Scrivener and used it to write my book (which is now available for preorder).

BluRay

I’m not so much into the “home theatre” experience, but it appears that Blu-Ray won.

All the Beethoven

In Japan, this new year’s, you could hear all of Beethoven’s symphonies at one concert, to celebrate the coming of a new year.

I’ve often thought of planning listening for a day along some crazy path like this… listen to one particular work (say, one complete Bach violin sonata), on repeat the whole day. I remember when I was still a teenager, I tried listening to all of Bach’s Goldberg Variations on very low volume, to sleep by. It didn’t work, I had to turn it off.

Cotton Swabs and Shower Gel

I confess I am a particular person. That is, particular about brands, sizes, and the precise nature of things I see, use, and consume. The kind of fussy person who has to have things “just so.” I’m not obsessive about it, but I do sometimes get teased.

I like Q-tips brand cotton swabs. I use one just about every day. Now, we can quibble about them marketing these things as “beauty applicators,” but let’s face it, I use them to clean-out my ears. After a hot shower, nothing feels better than to swab-out each ear canal for that “out of your ears” fresh feeling.

So, when I went to visit my parents this past season, I asked for some “Q-tips” for while I was there. What I was presented with were “Publix” brand cotton swabs.

These might be fine for applying makeup or lipstick (who would do this?), but not so great for the ears. What’s the difference? They bend! You can’t get the leverage to press these against anything because they all bend in the center. Wortheless!

It is always so interesting to stay in another person’s/family’s home. So many things that you are used to, are different. Super-thick toilet paper. Puff’s tissues in every room. Super-fruity shower gels.

Last year when I went to visit, I made a list of gripes from the trip, and high on the list was the selection of shower gels. I commented that they used a shower gel with some awfully sweet, fruit-flavored smell that no man, woman, or child would like to smell like.

I am sad to report, things aren’t much better.

There was promise, of course. Upon getting into the shower, I saw a new bottle of Caress brand shower gel. The bottle said “Tahitian Formula.” The first thing that came to mind was Tahitian vanilla. A warm, soothing scent, no doubt.

Instead, the bottle was orange/red colored, and what came out smelled exactly like Hawaiian Punch fruit beverage. I don’t know about you, but bathing in Hawaiian Punch doesn’t make me feel clean. To make matters worse, the gel was peppered with these red corpuscles that looked like droplets of oil. They were some sort of “exfoliating microbeads” to help you shed-off dead skin. I didn’t care for that. There were too few of these to do an effective job.

I actually looked up this stuff online, and found a number of “customer reviews.” Some folks actually like this flavor, and one I remember reading, went to great lengths to find other products by other manufacturers to “go along” with that scent.

Everyone has a different measure of taste, and all I’m really saying here is… of all the toiletries my family and I have in common, there is only one. We both like the thicker, “livin’ large” Puffs-brand tissues.

Evidently my stunt from our last visit of replacing every toilet paper roll with Scotts-brand tissue didn’t change any minds.

Technorati Tags: rant, family, toiletries

Coffee Talk

Many people spoke to me (in person) about the extended rant on the coffee/espresso maker I wrote about earlier.

Because this is just, you know, so important, I’ll give an update.

Tonight, we purchased a special glass container with a pouring spout to collect our extracted espresso. It has no measures on it, but it is better than any other vessel we had on hand, to collect the liquid.

We have moved the machine from the dining room to the kitchen. This has facilitated both better clean-up and better use of the machine.

Mixing-in some Dulce de leche hot chocolate mix makes for a nice tasting mocha-inspired latté.

We found, but did not (yet) purchase, a larger metallic container for milk frothing at Crate & Barrel, with an included thermometer for measuring the milk temperature.

This morning, I visited Starbucks, and watched the barista froth up her milk.

Lingering issues for me:

• amount of cleanup (typical complaint)
• amount of espresso extracted from one single pod (must look into double pods, or grind, grind…)
• using microwave to pre-heat the milk

It makes good strong espresso which has kept me up until 2 AM this morning. I might restrict use to morning hours.

An Update on my Troubled Thoughts

Earlier this week, I wrote about topics that were troubling me, among them, what to do about a gift I received for the holidays.

I wanted to update you on these topics, because if you read that, well then, you’ll likely value a resolution.

First, I have spent considerable time and attention to this very blog. I even started using blog software again (MarsEdit). So I am poised to blog, with so much banter, my buttons are ready to pop-off. That could also be holiday feasting at play, but I certainly digress.

Second, I have spent considerable time and effort reading and educating myself about espresso machines and coffee. I even went to Williams Sonoma and talked to the lady there for quite some time about espresso makers, received demonstrations, and sample tastings.

Last night I made a decision on the gift. I decided to keep it. I’ll outline how I came to this conclusion, and how it might have been a mistake.

Now, I really want to emphasize how much research went into this personal project. It felt as if, last night, I had amassed enough knowledge to write a Lattés for Dummies book or something. I’d even make the book cover here to be clever, but the generator is currently offline.

So, here are some general facts.

• There are three basic types of expresso machines: manual, semi-automatic, and fully-automatic.
• Better machines use a pump-system that provides a constant stream of pressure to extract the espresso.
• 15 bars of pressure is good, and typical for many machines.
• Manual machines require you to measure, scoop, grind, and tamp your own coffee beans.
• Semi-automatic machines may also require the nonsense with coffee, but typically spit-out just the right amount of espresso into your cup. Others use pods.
• A pod is a pre-measured, pre-tamped single serving of espresso in some kind of container.
• The fully automatic systems hold the water and beans, grind the beans, tamp the grounds, auto-measure the precise amounts, and dispense the drink all with a touch of a button (or two).
• I have little interest in creating espresso. I want to create lattés.

Okay, so that’s a little background for you. I went into the store, and told the lady I had received the gift, but was not sure “it is the best machine for my needs.” Soon thereafter, she became quite unhelpful, suggesting that the machine I got was no-fuss, but the fancy fully-automatic ones were complex, fussy, and probably not what I needed.

She became more helpful later with the demos.

Here are some more facts, more or less, as I remember them.

• There are four major types of pods for the semi- and fully-automatic machines.
• The fact that there are four tells you something: that grinding and tamping and preparing your own beans must be so disconcerting and time-consuming (not to mention messy) that you’re going to wish later you had a pod-based system.
• Tassimo is a pod-based system using something called a T-pod that only works in Tassimo-branded machines. These make single-serving cups of a variety of beverages, from regular coffee, to tea, chocolate, and also latté.
• Senseo is a competing product that also make single-serving drinks, but primarily just coffee. They take Senseo pods, which are different from the Tassimo pods. You can also get T-pods for the Senseo, but these are not Tassimo pods, but curiously-named pods for tea to use in your Senseo.
• Nespresso is an espresso-only line of pods exclusively for use in Nespresso-branded espresso machines. They tend to be the most expensive. You have to order them online or by phone. Williams Sonoma sells a variety of these machines.
• ESE Pods are a filter-based pod for use in many espresso machines. It seems the most “open standard” in terms of espresso/coffee makers. They too are single serving for one “shot” of espresso.

I had of course been considering buying a Jura-Capresso machine. These do not use pods at all. But they are simple to use. They are fully-automatic, and range in price from $800-4000. I’ll talk more about why the price differs and why all these choices are kind of silly, when you consider what I really want to do: make lattés.

The manual machines and the super-expensive Jura machines promise to make, perhaps, the best “tasting” espresso because in both cases you can use just-ground coffee. In looking at all the machines, dizzy as I was, I asked for help at Williams-Sonoma. Our sales agent immediately suggested getting the cheapest Nespresso model. I also think she was a hack, because she later told us that she hates espresso and can’t stand it.

Whatever.

She told me the particular model she was showing us was good because it was easy to use, hardly any clean-up, and it boasted some 19 bars of pressure. The espresso came out super-quickly, which confused me, because the snobs online say the espresso extraction should take some 20 seconds, not 5.

She also told me I didn’t need the more expensive “Le Cube” model because it only added cup warmers which were unnecessary. Every cappuccino snob online tells you the heated cups are so important, so I was getting dizzy again. Of course, this was before I dismissed her opinions completely after coming to find she disliked espresso altogether.

She really did not want to sell me a $1700 F-series Jura. That’s what I was after. Just confirm my hunches, lady, and I’ll buy your super-expensive machine… give me something to hold on to here… Nope. Then we talked about the model I had been gifted.

She told me it was a very good machine, should work great, and using it would only take a couple minutes. “Just a couple of minutes?” we asked. “Yes!” she happily confirmed. I mean, come on, I am on the cusp of buying a $1700 appliance (minus the trade-in on the gift) and you’re telling me to stick with gift. You have to admire that… she may have a point.

Then before we left, she told us the reason the Cuisinart was easy to use. “This one takes pods… no grinding or measuring, just pop it in, like the Nespresso… we have pods for this machine over here, let me show you.” She took us over to some Illy pods in a tin.

“Hmm…” I pondered. Pods. Didn’t know a thing about the pods. She didn’t know much either, as she didn’t know they were called ESE pods, or that it was a standard shared by many other brands and makes.

So, I went online to read more and study-up. I was bound and determined to put this cappuccino/espresso/latté project to bed.

This is what I found out:

• Starbucks makes ESE pods.
• People love the Starbucks ESE pods.
• In the Senseo vs. Tassimo war, Tassimo wins: there are simply more options.
• There are some angry, nasty people online who like to bitch and flame online, for folks who didn’t know that ESE pods don’t work in Tassimo and Senseo machines. I can’t blame people, it took me hours to figure out all this pod technology. It’s a royal, confusing mess!
• Some say that a manual machine can produce better quality espresso than a fully-automatic Jura.
• Pods, no matter which brand or style, seem to be “the way to go” in terms of convenience.
• Some reported that using Starbucks pods got them off “their habit,” and saved them money, saving them to make actual trips to Starbucks stores.

I decided that using my gifted machine, with these ESE pods, was the way to go. I’d have convenience, I already had the machine, and all I had to do to get started was find pods.

Last night I drove to two different Starbucks before I found the requisite pods. I came home, next, and opened-up the box for the machine. It came with a DVD detailing how to set-up and use the Cuisinart machine.

Now, mind you, the sales agent at Williams-Sonoma demonstrated only the Nespresso machines. You drop in an aluminum pod, press a button, and hot steamy espresso comes out. No clean up. So, imagine my surprise, upon watching Ms. Rogers on the DVD, when she notes all the clean-up required each time you use the Cuisinart.

You have to clean:

• the handle,
• the pod holder thing,
• the fascia,
• the spout where water comes out,
• the steaming wand,
• and the drip tray.

Then, she (the lady on the video) lies to you with this phrase: You will use this machine every day to make delicious espresso drinks, like cappuccino, macchiato, and lattés!

When I actually went to use the machine, that is when I realized I hadn’t done the right type of research. Williams-Sonoma is not equipped to give you a proper demonstration. They demonstrate the making of espresso. What I needed to see was the creation of latté.

In defense of Cuisinart, the drink was very tasty. It was as good as what I might get at Starbucks, if I were to order a tall or short latté. Except, it was cold. I can work on that a bit, but really, you need a far larger milk frother container to get the milk hot enough with the steam spout.

Here are my complaints, now that I’ve made the choice to keep (and use) the Cuisinart at home.

• The machine is too light. You have to brace yourself against the machine to screw-on the handle.
• Making a “double” espresso with two pods is a royal pain. You have to take off the handle, burn your fingers touching it, and pop out pod #1 while you fish around and try to insert pod #2. Then getting that contraption on the machine again is another feat of strength.
• The machine’s steam wand is dripping.
• By the time the warming tray is “warm,” you’re done. Big whoop.
• The steaming/frothing business is awful. This wand is too difficult to maneuver, especially when trying to get it in and out of the little milk dispenser thing.
• Why is there so much waste (water, espresso) in the drip tray? I have to empty it after each drink.
• How much espresso am I supposed to make? Being a manual machine, you need to put some kind of short, stumpy measuring cup underneath the thing to capture the espresso. Put it into a cup, and you’re just guessing. (Yes, I do not have 1 oz. shot glasses or special single-shot espresso cups. I want latté!)
• My mugs from home do not fit underneath the machine to capture the espresso.
• It looks like I will need to dirty at least 4 containers each time I want to make a latté: the milk pitcher (stainless steel), another milk container for the microwave to heat up the milk), the small stumpy glass/cup (which I don’t yet own), and the actual container (like my to-go coffee mug) that I want to drink out of.
• Can this thing really make a so-called venti latté that’s hot? I don’t see how. I’d have a sink-full of dirty dishes and parts, not to mention the end-product that would have gone cold.

It took me 12 minutes to make a lukewarm double latté this morning. Tassimo? probably a minute.

Here’s where it gets tricky. Nespresso made the drink in under 10 seconds, but this was without the frother. They sell a frothing model (for double the price of the Cuisinart), but it will still require multiple vessels, messy milk residue on the wand, etc., etc.

Here’s where, I think, the fully-automatic machines win: you can specify a double size (not possible with single pods), and you can connect an automatic frothing attachment. They suck-in the milk from a special container, and dump your hot milk and froth right in your cup.

Of course, these machines are like $1700-2700.

So, my point in the end is this: with manual machines, pods or not, making a latté at home is a special-occasion experience because of all the muss and fuss. That’s why I called the lady in the DVD, Ms. Rogers, a liar. By the time you “immediately” clean the machine, your drink is cold and stale. And who has the time to wash 3-4 components each morning? A short latté is hardly breakfast, alone.

It looks like what instead I have is the ability to make good-tasting espresso drinks, at home, but for special occasions only. All the time and energy (and expense) won’t stop my already-frequent visits to Starbucks. Hey, they just built a new one here, with a drive-thru. Sounds like a plan.

I want to thank my friends for the machine, it’s not that I don’t like the gift. I’m just upset with myself for thinking I could affordably reproduce Starbucks from home. I see the value in a fully-automatic machine, but can’t say I’m overwhelmingly willing to part with that much cash.

Technorati Tags: cuisine, coffee, starbucks, espresso, rant

Planes, a New Year, and Julia

Happy New Year. For those of you expecting one of our “Old Year Letters” this year, forget it. I don’t have the patience or stamina to do it. Read this blog instead.

Yes, I have re-designed it for 2008. I stayed up too long and spent too many hours. You better like it, as we’re not going back to “black” (in reference to my earlier template scheme).

In lieu of a letter, I’ve culled some old writings that I believe are real gems. Just days ago, I travelled to Florida to visit mis padres and had an enjoyable experience upon the planes of jetBlue. The check-in was quick, the airplane was spacious (I actually had leg room, and they only have 2 seats per side, nice!), and we each got a TV screen with too many channels to get bored with. Excellent.

But typically when I fly, I get myself into trouble with all kinds of things. This gem was written in July of 2006.

To the lady with long hair who sat in front of me on the 3.75 hour plane ride from Chicago to San Diego:

You ladies are quite a bunch. Frequently, you get the seat ahead of me. Your gloriously long locks are indeed beautiful, you must use Pantene. But for the love of what god to whom you worship, please, be considerate of others. I can understand, despite their bounty of beauty, your hairs do indeed deserve to be put “up” into a bun, collected together with that elastic accessory some call the scrungee.

Yet, when you are fixing your hair just so, it flops about over your seat, and into my face. Your loose hairs meet my legs with the most fanciful follies, as gravity pulls them down. Now your hair is on my lap. Despite all the wonderful things I could say about your hair, the truth is, I don’t like it. On your head, it’s fine. But on me, or falling about in my environs, however small they are in economy class, I am uncomfortable.

To you, dear lady, please keep your hair to yourself. I want none of it.

Yuck, hair! I also found an archive from August 1, 2006, some notes after reading Julia Child’s last book:

It has taken me some time, but just minutes ago I finished reading Julia Child’s My Life in France, that she wrote before dying, with her grand-nephew. The book surveyed her first, and many subsequent visits to France, and how and why these visits, especially so the first, helped define the second half of her life. She was inspired by her first meal in France, eating a sole fish, that she wanted to learn, taste, and do more: she went to cooking school, wrote a cookbook, taught classes, and eventually became a TV personality. She’s pretty honest about her feelings and her what not in the book, so I think you get a pretty accurate sense of who she was. Some biographers paint themselves as someone you of course agree with; Julia showed us more, warts and all. The writing of the book does a good job at summarizing the pages and words with a point: cooking and eating can be a life-changing experience, and always eat well. Watching her on TV when I was a kid (in her PBS shows), I never figured she knew much… she always seemed to be learning from others. The truth was, she was, and she knew quite a bit. She seems like someone who would have been a great pleasure to meet and dine with, or if nothing else, to simply chat for awhile. A highly recommended read.