Saturday 18 April 2015

supporting young artists

The music society is putting on a concert for young performers later this afternoon.  They are quite high level young musicians: two are bound for national music colleges this autumn.  One plays the marimba, and I've seen him on YouTube and he is pretty good.  Duty demands that I support the concert, but in truth I'm not overly keen on young musicians.  I know that people's careers have to start somewhere, and so I try to be nice about them, just as I try not to show my annoyance at the learner drivers who wobble all over Colchester's (admittedly confusing) roundabouts and totter through forty zones at twenty-eight miles an hour while indicating so far in advance of their turning that I can't work out what they're doing.  But I secretly wish musicians could spring forth fully formed, or at least that I could wait to see them until they are ready to grace LSO St Luke's.

We are not at all sure how many people will come to the concert.  There are apparently other concerts on today, and it may be that the bulk of the music loving public who are not themselves the proud parents of the performers share my reservations about young artists.  This uncertainty over numbers complicates the catering.  The chairman asked us to bring simple nibbles, definitely not canapes.  I'm not at all sure what constitutes a simple nibble.  When we have friends round it means Waitrose pretzels and retro cheese footballs, or maybe olives if we're feeling lavish.  The chairman announced her intention to bring some mini pork pies and cherry tomatoes that could be held in reserve unopened, ready to be deployed if needed and redeployed at another arts event on Monday if not.

She also bagsied the cucumber sandwich option, and somebody else volunteered her usual cheese and olive scones, adding firmly that they were already made and in the freezer.  I'd quite fancied cucumber sandwiches, not least because you can buy a cucumber for a quid and having to throw away uneaten cucumber sandwiches would be less painful than chucking out half a tray of uneaten ham.  The chairman suggested things that could be frozen if not eaten on the day, but I couldn't think of anything, given that the scone option had already gone.

So I made a batch of my usual Good Housekeeping cheese straws, which I consider superior to the boxes of ready made Fudge's ones.  Since learning how to make them it has appalled me how much supermarkets charge for premium cheese straws.  That seemed a bit stingy on its own, so I made some mini egg sandwiches as well.  It seemed like a good idea before I began, after all, we have lots of eggs.  My confidence took a slight dip when I discovered that nowadays sliced bread doesn't seem to come thinly sliced, you can have thick or medium.  It took another dip when I discovered that the Hovis I'd bought in a fit of generosity instead of going for the cheapest own brand loaf felt on the dry side although I bought it specially this morning.

I took the crusts off, keeping them for the chickens who are partial to a bit of brown bread, and tried to work out how many pieces to cut each sandwich into, and ended up using an awful lot of knives as I didn't want to dip one that had been in the egg and mayo mix in the butter.  I opted for six mini sandwiches from each pair of slices, but I don't like the way that small pieces of egg were beginning to bulge out of the edges.  I put them in the fridge until I was ready to go out, having a healthy fear of food poisoning when it comes to pre-prepared salads and sandwiches, and in the hope it would stiffen the mayonnaise (Heinz finest, and I bought a new jar for the occasion), but goodness knows what they'll be like after half an hour in the car and spending the first half of the concert on a table in the back of the church.  I can see trouble ahead with the vestry carpet, and honestly I wish I'd gone for smoked salmon fragments.  I shall know next time, if there is a next time.  One of the committee members has been rallying support for another jazz concert.  I kept quiet in the committee meeting about my almost pathological hatred of most jazz, not wishing to seem hostile and negative.  If it happens I shall feel obliged to go to that as well, but I don't know if a jazz concert requires simple nibbles, or merely crisps and copious amounts of alcohol.

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