Nina De Sole
ARROZ ALTERNATIVO (ALTERNATIVE RICE)
Nina writes: I learnt this recipe from my beloved mother, who despite not being an accomplished chef, was able to feed her family with tasty dishes. Six years ago, she went to Heaven...
Every time I prepare this recipe, I make it mine, with all the alternatives it offers; just like she used to. I share this in her loving memory. INGREDIENTS
NOTE: The dish is cooked in a pot, not a rice cooker.
I have rubber lid holders to prevent the pot from being completely shut and allow the steam to breathe a bit. THE RICE
(The rice proportions depend on the serving)
THE MEAT: A choice between:
METHOD
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Nina De Sole, organist.
Nina De Sole is resident organist at the Churches of Saint-Denis, Notre-Dame-du-Rosaire and Sainte-Thérèse-de-L'Enfant-Jésus, in Montreal Canada. She did her studies in Translation, Organ Performance and Church Music at McGill University. After her university studies, Nina perfected her Organ studies with the resident organist of Notre-Dame-de-Montréal Basilica, while also being his assistant organist during her training. Besides being a concert and church organist, Nina also follows a parallel career as a Resident Court Interpreter for the Ministère de la Justice du Québec. In her leisure time, cooking is also another passion that she discovered, and loves to try simple, yet savoury recipes. Pronouns: She/Her Website: www.ninadesole.com A couple of anecdotes from Nina:
I recall one day that I had to go play for a funeral at a church where I usually don’t play. After the caretaker opened the door to the organ loft, I proceeded to climb the stairs. As I climbed I noticed a shape at the top of the stairs, just at the entrance of the loft. There was not much light, but I noticed that the shape was that of a person, so I became a bit wary. The higher I climbed, the clearer the shape became and I saw that it was a man, crouching in the space between the wall and a church bench, up in the loft. I tried not to be scared, thinking that perhaps it was a homeless person that made their way to the loft and got locked in. He looked like in his thirties, with a thinning hairline and a beard, he was looking down. I was preparing to tell him that I wasn’t going to report him, but eventually he would have to reach out to the church staff. He stayed there motionless, not even trying to get my attention. When I got to the top of the stairs, right beside him, I finally realized that he was a statue of Saint Joseph from the Nativity scene, stored in the organ loft. I felt so embarrassed that I couldn’t stop laughing... The impulsivity - frustration - of youth
In my first organist position, there were volunteer singers with whom I had to deal. I was a young girl, and most of these people were already retired, or at least 30 years older than me. One of them came up with the idea of creating a booklet for the congregation, with the lyrics of the songs. Of course I had the equivalent, but with real music scores. It was quite a thick binder; iPads didn’t exist at the time. In the beginning, it was a good way of limiting the number of new songs these folks were “pulling out of the hat” (often without a score to confirm their intention of singing that particular song). Quickly it became a problem because they just spontaneously chose something different, without of course notifying me of the change. I had to quickly run through the pages of the binder, find the song, and play the introduction. At one point, one of the ladies began calling the songs by number. The songs appeared with a number only in their index, but in my binder, they were classified alphabetically. So, one time I began the introduction of the song I thought she had called out, and she started singing another tune that wasn’t at all what I was playing. She kept going. I was furious, stopped playing, got off the bench, went to the gallery rail and yelled with all my anger: “Hey! This is NOT a Chinese restaurant; please tell me the title of the song instead of a number!” (Back in the day, Chinese restaurants used numbers in their menus, to help the restaurant staff who didn’t speak much French or English. ) The singer looked at me startled, the congregation turned around, looking at me, and the procession stopped. Timidly, the singer read out the title of the song. I said: “Thank you!” went back to the organ and played the introduction. After the mass, my priest didn’t scold me but told me that those things could be talked in a more civilized way before or after mass. He understood my frustration. |