Day 3: Marathon

That Handel! Boy, he must have had a slightly sadistic side to him, that guy. Day 3 brought the wonders of “Ah, mio cor”. Alcina has just discovered that her lover, Ruggiero has betrayed her and plans to flee her island, her power, and her love. It’s fascinating theatrically because the recitative that leads into this heart-wrenching, penetrating, disturbing aria, is quite fearsome, as she declares “Farò vendetta, io giuro!” (“I will have my revenge, I swear it!”) One would expect him to plunge us into one of his brilliant revenge arias of rapid-fire coloratura and flaming vocalizing; instead, he gives us a jagged, pointed chord structure, a painfully restrained tempo and relentless bass line, over which soars a broken hearted, collapsed woman singing, “My heart, you are betrayed; I loved you so, HOW can you leave me alone in such tears?” It aches, it throbs, it soars, it cries out – it’s the perfect realization of her pain and utter desolation.

But Handel is not satisfied with that. Oh no.

He is always thinking theatrically, and just as the end of the first section reaches its tragic conclusion, when most of us would have been satisfied with such an outpouring, he LAUNCHES us into “the B section”!!!! Alcina declares, “But wait – Alcina, what are you doing? You are a QUEEN! There is still time”, as she regains her sense of power and potency, “He will either return to you, or he will DIE.” Ah, yes, THERE she is! Here is the fire and the combustible might we’ve been yearning to see from her! No question about it, she is BACK and she will compel that revenge to emerge! We are left with no doubt by the end of the famed B part that she will be the victor. (“I am woman, and hear me roar!”)

But wait … not so fast. Without any return to an orchestral prelude, Handel heaves us right back to where we were, only quite worse off. Even after realizing she is a Queen, that she has power and might, the ache in her heart remains – and it must surely be so much worse, for she senses she may be, in fact, impotent to change it. She revisits the same heartache from earlier, only her suffering has greatly multiplied, sinking even deeper into her core.

What a master. What a craftsman Handel was. How wonderful that we can experience this torment, this desolation and eventual collapse which this man pulled from thin air, put down on paper, and has been brought to life by so many different women through the centuries! I find that utterly amazing. I also find it rather astonishing that a man could have such a grasp of the fragility, rage, despair and more that co-exist in some mystical communion in a woman’s heart; not just an understanding that would allow him to ‘relate’ to a woman, but with this aria he crawls up into the inner-workings of her mind and heart and actually, truly GETS it! Damn. Oh, right – I almost forget, all of this ‘comprehension’ is enveloped in just about the most beautiful piece of music ever written. Right.

Damn!

So, here I am; little ol’ girl from Kansas left to have a go at it this master’s music from another world, another time and place. I don’t think I’d be too out of line to say that even sopranos struggle with this aria, for it remains quite in the upper part of the voice for quite nearly the entire 9-minute scene, which means endurance is a real factor, and finding a way to sustain the intensity and emotion, never letting it sag, or become predictable of course is a challenge. To resort to another sport’s analogy: this one is the marathon. Especially when in a studio recording setting, because you have the luxury of working at it until you get it right. In this case, this 9-minute tune took nearly 2 hours.

We attacked the A section first – the first time through we hear her pain. I was really stiff the first take, because I was very concentrated on the vocal aspect of it, the technical challenges, etc, and it was FINE, but it didn’t have any of the emotion. Next time through the emotion was there, but the technical things went out the window! (See what I mean about pacing?) After another take and a few more corrections, we had it, but for some reason I still wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be with this masterpiece.

We had discussed going right to the da capo to get that down on tape as well, but I said, “Alan, can we just sing through the B section, and then see what happens?” Well, I affirmed my belief in always following your gut: the orchestra really got into it, I was on fire, and it launched me RIGHT into the cadenza for the da capo, and we let the tape run. After the red light turned off, telling us the stop button had been pushed, we all sort of held our breath, knowing we had got it!! (Nearly.) Finally all the emotion was there, the MOOD, the inspiration, the drama – I was feeling it, and I had let go of the technical worry.

You would think we would have then gone to dinner, but no – this is a recording, and there was still a lot of work to do. It took me a number of times to get the final cadenza to arrive at that great union of emotion and vocal precision (I was flat a lot!), and then we had different spots where one note was missing here or there, or the orchestra needed more time to find their groove, as it’s a very tricky piece for them. It was quite tiring, but we were all feeling it, and there was a real sense in the room that we WANTED to GET this, and I certainly hope we did. One thing that I really like about working with this producer is that he isn’t looking for the perfectly executed take, he is looking for things to be correct, but ONLY under the umbrella of being dramatically compelling and emotionally involved. Vocal perfection doesn’t interest me (although I’m always striving for something approaching that), but I want my voice to tell the story and be the vehicle for this woman’s emotion and the drama Handel was going for. I cannot believe that the thing that thrilled Handel was simple vocal perfection – I have to believe, by the way he wrote, that the thing that ULTIMATELY thrilled him, was the theatrical viability of beautiful singing.

And so I did my best. And it was amazing how charged up I felt after running this vocal marathon, draining my mind of all concentration and intention. It was a good day’s work. And while I profess to hating Handel for being so sadistic in writing such a difficult and demanding piece to sing, ya gotta love the guy, as well. Damn!

P.S. The dinner should have been SO much better than it was after a session like that, but alas, it was minestrone soup, sadly in need of some flavor – at the least, a little more salt, and turkey something or another. Very disappointing. I asked for a salad, knowing it was good for me, but secretly longing for another huge plate of that Truffle pasta from yesterday!

Photos:
*Views of beautiful passion fruit flowers, taken from a trellis on the road to the recording

Day 2: Pacing

I remember the shock setting in during the process of my first studio recording (the Handel duet disc, Amor e Gelosia) of how utterly exhausted I was at the end of each day. It wasn’t so much a vocal thing as a mental one: the amount of concentration and energy required to achieve ONE track on a disc is overwhelming. I’m not really sure why, exactly, but the mental exertion feels so much greater than singing that very same scene on the stage; I’m sure the adrenalin which overtakes you on stage, and the ‘groove’ that you hopefully get in, must help immensely – let’s use that ‘swimming with the current’ analogy. But in the studio, ALL of that energy and ALL of that adrenalin is condensed into a single 30-second recitative, which you must summon the mighty energy for over and over until you’ve GOT it. (However, maybe YOU got it on that take, but your partner in crime flubbed a word, so we must start again; and this time HE nails HIS intent and Italian, but you’re flat on the top E-natural. Start over. You follow?) It’s terribly exciting, and always feels like you’re on a tightrope high above starving, rabid dogs with their foaming mouths just beckoning, and I love it!

The other trick with pacing, is that everyone involved in the recording process knows that we’re on a very tight schedule, and should one cog in the engine get pulled out of place, the entire project could be in jeopardy. It’s not really something that we discuss amongst ourselves– Murphy’s Law and all that, but it means that in the first days of the process, we’re cramming in all the recitatives we can (in case one singer falls ill, we’ve got all the group material ‘in the can’), and working at a rather frenzied pace. A tight schedule means there is no luxury of taking an extra 5 minutes to REALLY nail that cadenza; you’ve got to make every take count, and aim to give the producer the maximum number of choices for him to use in the editing process. It means every take, essentially, has the urgency of stepping into the batter’s box in the bottom of the ninth inning, bases loaded, 2-outs, and 3 runs down, and I love it!

Day 2’s session offered Alcina’s 2nd aria, “Si, son quella”. Now both Alan and I agreed about this aria from the start (which relieved both of our anxious minds, I think!), in that we both believed that it was NOT the moment where she is feeling sorry for herself. It is not her moment for despair, for goodness knows that comes in spades later! I wanted to find a way where it was sincere at the beginning, but then morphed into a rather manipulative, passive-aggressive treatment of the piece. I think it gives a lot of dimension to the character. It also, once again, demonstrates the BRILLIANCE of Handel, for in these long da capo arias, he gives you the time and the space to develop something that is quite complex psychologically and emotionally. We don’t have to have it all figured out in one line of text – he gives us 6 minutes to explore what is really happening with this scene. It’s just as unfolds in real life: we don’t always know where we’re going with a particular train of thought, we often discover what we REALLY mean as we go along. It’s quite a lot of work to dig and dig and chose which variation evokes the particular emotion you’re searching for, and whether or not you want vibrato in a tone in order to paint a particular color; it’s quite a complex, intense process, and I love it!
The second half of my recording session involved nearly all of Alcina’s most dramatic recitatives. I’m glad we ordered the day as such, because I didn’t have to concern myself with ‘saving my voice’ for the aria afterwards – I was able to let ‘er rip! In working these through, it is quite obvious to me that there is a real disintegration to this Sorceress, and it’s delicious to search for the colors that will bring that fall to life. I marvel at the way hard-core baroque musicians, like these of Alan’s band, micro-manage each and every piece. It is quite a democratic process, with a lot of discussion between the continuo members (cello, bass, lute and cembalo) as they work as a true cohesive unit to breathe life into these scenes: sometimes it involves reacting to what we say, other times they initiate an event which we are forced to respond to, but always they keenly listen and color their playing to the story we are all aiming to tell. It is one of the most vibrant, interactive and exhilarating ways for me to work, and I love it!

Tomorrow brings the trio and the grand aria, “Ah, mio cor.” I best get my rest!

P.S. At the hotel where we are staying, we all dine together, inhaling whatever the resident cook whips up. It’s a little hit and miss, (there is always the primo [most often pasta] and secondo, [always the meat course] so my efforts to win back my pre-vacation figure are most certainly being sabotaged!), but every once in awhile paradise descends onto our china. Yesterday’s lunch was pasta with TARTUFFO and PORCINI MUSHROOMS. Need I say more? Yes: I loved it!

Photos:
*A little archway on the way to record
*Taking a break

Day 1: Alcina

So I thought it might be interesting to chronicle here the experience of actually making a recording. Yesterday was the first day we met the microphones for this “Alcina” recording, to be put out on Deutche Gramophone’s Archiv label, with Alan Curtis and his band, Il Complesso Barocco. This is my 4th collaboration with them, and it’s lovely to walk into the first day of rehearsal and see so many familiar faces, knowing that the awkward ‘getting to know each other’ period has passed, so we can get right down to the business of making real music. An element of familial ‘safety’ permeates our rehearsals, assuring me that I’ll be able to afford to take a lot of risks – this is a most welcome thing!

We’ve spent 4 days rehearsing the arias, but quite a lot of time has also been put to dissecting the recitatives – for you see, we sit at a bit of a disadvantage in recording this opera because as a cast we have not had the chance to perform it together on the STAGE, where a real dramatic chemistry would have had the chance to develop. Some of the singers have performed their roles on stage, but in my case, I have not had the privilege (although I did cover the role of Ruggiero some years back). Ideally, I believe you should have performed the role you’re recording many times on stage before daring to preserve it on disc for eternity, but I have a history with Alan of recording roles that I have not inhabited before, and I trust that the two of us will find a very compelling and real character together. I spend a lot of time preparing the recitatives, because I believe it is THERE that you really flesh out the psychology of the character – you cannot simply rely on the arias to inform you of all the different facets and turns of the persona. If the character fails to come alive in the recits, the arias will never catch fire, as they need to.

So the first day of recording roles around, and everyone’s adrenalin is pumping and there is palpable excitement pulsing through the air. I have to say that in my years working with Alan, his orchestra has never sounded better, and his casting seems spot on (maybe that makes me the weak link of the cast!). We started with some of those telling recitatives, and drama flew in with brilliant Italian fervor – one would never have known that we had not previously performed many times together. And what DRAMA! Alcina is such a fascinating character on so many levels, and I’m LOVING getting into the marrow of her character. For example, in her opening recitative, she makes a very interesting word choice in describing the ‘love’ between her and Ruggiero, proclaiming it a “scambievole amor”, meaning a “mutual” or “reciprocal” love. In fact, it is anything BUT, for Ruggiero is simply under her spell, (and she well knows this) but her pronouncement is for all to hear, perhaps to erase any lingering doubt, or simply to try to persuade herself. Her love for him is real (in her eyes), but what a fragile thing it is, because it is false on his side. Her desperation quickly begins to show. See? One little word choice like that makes all the difference!

We recorded her first aria, “Di, cor mio”. Truth be told, I’m quite nervous about this recording, because it’s a bit ‘outside the norm’ for me. Historically, it has been conquered by such icons as Joan Sutherland and Renee Fleming to brilliant effect. And now it’s my turn? Why not, I say! Well, ok, in all honesty, it wasn’t quite that simple:

When I was approached by Alan to record it, I assumed he meant to sing the part of Ruggiero. He hemmed and hawed a bit, and then said, “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of ALCINA.” Pause. [Cue the loud and raucous laughter] He ignored the outburst and simply said, “Joyce, just take a look at the score – the highest written note is an “A”. And don’t forget – we record at baroque pitch.” (Which means a full tone lower than what modern orchestras play in today.) After a quick dismissal I slowed down and began to think a bit. Then I began to think a lot more about it, and said, “Alan, are you really serious? You’re a brilliant scholar and Handel specialist, and this is universally considered one of his GREAT masterpieces: you get only one shot to record it, and you really want the title role to be sung by a mezzo-soprano????? I know you’re a little crazy, but are you INSANE????”

Well, hopefully he’ll explain more of his reasons for this unorthodox choice in the CD booklet, but in the meantime, I had a decision to make. I looked long and hard at the score, factoring in the lower pitch. I listened to Joan. I listened to Renee. (I even eyed the part of Ruggiero with a bit of lust, thinking, “I know this role, it fits perfectly, it’s such beautiful music, why bother stretching myself as Alcina?” Well, never one to shy away from a challenge I decided to go for it. Were I a legitimate soprano, I honestly think I would have passed, because I feel those two have said so much about the character as a soprano, and have sung it so exquisitely, so sublimely – what more could I do? Their interpretations are completely different, but equally engrossing, if for very different reasons.

So I poured through the score, and the more I realized it wasn’t written with a million high C’s, (or E’s, for that matter!) the more seduced I was by this character – she’s a witch, for God’s sake! And that MUSIC! That MAGIC! That bewitching femininity! And how Handel must have loved her! I decided to jump in with both feet into that fire-y coven and not look back. Life is short, right? So I’ve been working my witch-y tail off, and yesterday I felt the first fruits of my labors. What a gift, a joy, a THRILL to sing that first aria of hers, which arrives like a sensual breath of fresh air on the first day of spring. Oh how I love the music of Handel. And you can tell that he penned this particular role with such care and tenderness – I actually feel it when I sing, this attention to each little phrase, each singularly placed note. The fragility and vulnerability she shows in her first aria is simply sublime – and it’s a rare glimpse into seeing this mighty sorceress with her guard down. The orchestra put itself immediately in the mood of the piece, which is a rare achievement on the first day of recording, for usually everyone is walking a bit on eggshells, searching for the rhythm, the groove.


Happily the producer from the Floridante recording is on board again, so I find it comforting to know that I’m in very good hands. The producer listens over headphones in an outside room (or chamber, in this case!), and tells us what we need to fix, until we get it right: a flat note here, an un-Italianate attack there, an ornament that isn’t fitting quite right, or perhaps most important of all – the drama is lacking. As always, it’s a question of balance, and how much to we emphasize vocal ‘correctness’, how much to risk dramatically, and where lies the mystical combination of the two. Happily, I’ve been privileged to do a number of recordings, and through experience I’ve found a way to trust that I don’t have to try TOO hard, but I have to give it everything I’ve got. Personally, I love the challenge of telling the story strictly through the words and the colors and vocal inflections – I hope it makes me a better performer.

That having been said, I do a huge project like this, and I’m immediately struck by the fact that I still have so much more to learn, and must constantly strive for more. What a wonderful sensation! I get the feeling that my enthusiasm for this project, at least on this first day, is overflowing, so I should sign off – there are 5 more arias to go, each one more difficult than the next. Stay tuned!

Photos:
*Inside the chuch where we record
*Alan Curtis
*View of San Pietro in Tuscania from my hotel window (I know, rough, eh?)

For the Boys in Blue!

One of my sweetest childhood memories is of my sister and I sitting on our beds, having stealthily stolen the coveted sports page from my older brother, and breathlessly scouring over that morning's "box scores" where the stats from the previous night's game are listed. We couldn't wait to see how many singles Cookie Rojas and Freddie Patek had executed, if Amos Otis was that much closer to another Golden Glove victory that year, if Quisenberry scored another league-leading save, or how close George (Brett, that is, but we felt we could just call him, "George") was to capturing that elusive .400 batting average. They were the glory days of Ewing Kaufmann, Whitey Herzog, Dennis Leonard, Frank White, and actual WINNING SEASONS! OH, the youthful summertime BLISS!


Well, a dream came true for me on Sunday when I was able to 'take the field' (no longer the astro-turf of days gone by), and sing the National Anthem for the Kansas City Royals. It was a genuine rush to walk the halls underneath the stadium and see the retired jerseys of the great players who brought us the World Series in 1985, and then to walk up the long corridor to take my place on their field of dreams - distant dreams these days, it would seem, but dreams none the less! You see, my baseball team hasn't been exactly "competitive" for the past, um, let's say decade or so. But I'm still a loyal fan, and there is no mistaking the joy of being in that stadium, now dubbed "The K" in tribute to their legendary owner, and feeling the possibility of a win. (Incidently, the Kaufmann foundation, which he and his wife founded, is the main force behind building what will be the WORLD CLASS Performing Arts Center in downtown Kansas City!)

In this case the odds were against us as we were playing the EEI (Evil Empire Incarnate): those dreaded Yankees. (Shudder) The horrid Reggie Jackson, the sinister Craig Nettles, let's not EVEN talk about Goose Gossage -- OH how we loved to HATE them!! I miss those days, I miss being competitve, and I miss being able to brag about how we shut them down in the 9th inning of the play-offs. (But we DID strike out Alex Rodriguez twice on Sunday, so I'll take!)

What I love so much about baseball, is that it is the ultimate individual sport housed in the ultimate team sport: each player must excel, and each one has his chance to win the game, but it cannot be done without the effort of the 8 other players and the managers. I won't draw the obvious conclusions of how it parallels what I do (they're there in abundance), but I still learn mounds of things from watching athletes perform - it's all there in their eyes - and I relish each chance to take notes.


I was so happy to sing my country's National Anthem for the cheering crowd that day. I thought a great deal about each word I was singing, yearning to feel a sense of pride in my country again, and ultimately was left feeling quite small and humble in light of the sacrifices that my fellow countrymen have made in the name of America. It's not a small privilege (nor responsibility) to perform that song, and I hope that honor will always accompany it.

*Photos by my wonderful neighbor (and Cubs fan) Carly

Beauty

My sister recently asked me out of the blue, "What's your favorite part about what you do?". I'm not easily stumped or silenced, as most of you who know me can easily attest to, but this question prompted me to really stop in my tracks and search. I knew there couldn't be a wrong answer, but it wasn't a question I could take lightly. After pondering a bit, it was obvious:

I get to be surrounded by unequalled beauty: the beauty of the theaters in which I sing, the beauty of the music I'm continually immersed in, the beauty of the generous people I work with, and perhaps above all, the beauty of the unspoiled human voice, which every so often seems to connect to something unmistakebly divine.

Yesterday, the world lost one of those divine voices, one of those truly radiant souls: Luciano Pavarotti lost his fight with pancreatic cancer.

Was there ever a more beautiful, sun-filled, radiant, natural voice?

Some people love to get into the arguement about what is driving opera today - looks vs. voice, super-model physique vs. impeccable phrasing, size 4 vs. size 44. "It's about theater", we decry! Well, one look at this video, and you have all the theater you need, because it came direct and unflitered from the heart. You see it in his penetrating, haunting eyes, you hear it in his plangeant, melting legato, you feel it through his articulate, perfect diction, and you succomb to it with every fiber of your being:

Una furtiva lagrima

My first encounter with this larger-than-life man was on my Dad's old stereo, playing his favorite Christmas gift that year: a recording of "O Sole Mio". It was the record with Pavarotti smiling that unmistakable BEAMING smile of his on the cover, wearing a large white brimmed hat, and that signature scarf around his neck. It was all Luciano. And that beautiful voice soaring out of our speakers from the scratchy record transported us all to the exotic, distant shores of Italy any time we wanted to go. (And my Dad wanted to go all the time!) I didn't know then that technically this singer was impeccable, I had no clue what good diction or phrasing was, and surely I wasn't aware of the perfection his 'ah' vowel possessed. I only knew it was heartbreakingly beautiful and that it touched me. I also took note of how that single voice could bring the biggest smile to my Dad's face, not to mention to my older sister's face, as much as she rolled her adolescent eyes in protest; you see, we were all hooked.

How many people did he touch throughout his career? How many people did he cause to feel something they had shut off a long time ago? How much beauty did he dole out over the decades, not only through his voice, but through the kindness in his eyes? There are no tables or charts to measure such contributions, but each of us who loved him will attest to his lasting impact, and we shall continue to turn to his timeless, unrivalled recordings where he will live on, and smile with the profound gratitude that our lives are that much more beautiful for having known him.

Back to School

Saluting my 'inner geek', I'd like to confess that I really miss being in school. Not so much for the agony of my upper-class crush not returning my love-notes, (just a tinge of bitterness remains!), and not so much for the advanced and painful physics classes that blatantly did NOT contribute to my quest for mathematic success. Truth be told, I REALLY miss the thrill of the unscribbled notebook, the smell of the new binder waiting to be filled with my adolescent grafitti declaring my love for said 'upper-classman' (never relinquishing hope that he just might catch a glimpse of my ardent declaration for him and immediately issue an invitation to the Prom), or the heart-stopping endless wait to hear the announcement of what that year's musical would be. Oh, the DRAMA. It's August, and my vacation is ending, and I have traded in my Spiral notebooks for freshly copied scores and my yellow highlighter!


Officially I'm still on vacation, but I'm hard at work gearing back up for the coming season, secretly hoping I'll remember how to actually sing now that I've let down for a few glorious weeks. I've dabbled in photography (click here to sample my Safari photos), frolicked in the kitchen (how I love the internet's willingness to help you find new recipes!), and (again: inner geek alert), spent days filing the past 2 years' worth of programs and photos and cards and music. But the sense of accomplishment in seeing your life take on a quasi-organized quality is, simply put, BLISSFUL!

I'll still be a bit 'in absentia' for the next few weeks, but I just wanted to pop in, say hello, (brag about my Safari photos!), and share the excitement for the coming year. Granted, I'll miss the rush of opening my new pack of #2 pencils, but I have more than a sneaking suspicion that Handel will help bridge the gap!

Change of season

It has been quite a year for anyone associated with opera and our "Opera Family". Last year in Santa Fe we received the news of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's all too early departure from us; we've lost 2 iconic figures in Beverly Sills and Regine Crespin; we've been hit with the news of 2 legends having to fight off the unthinkable opponent in pancreatic cancer; and now we've tragically said goodbye to Jerry Hadley, a story so fragile and heartbreaking, it has surely stopped every singer in their tracks to ponder the fragility of their lives.

As a family, it seems impossible to think of going forward without these great people among us, these immense presences in our lives. It almost seems perverse that we should still be able to hear and observe them in song after they've gone, but thank God we can. It makes me all the more grateful they gave so freely and willingly of their art so that we may have an eternal glimpse of their spirit here among us. And yet, it also amplifies for me how little we ever know about any artist that stands before us. How fragile, indeed.

I finished my season on Monday night by singing Rossini's Stabat Mater for the first time with the incredible Tony Pappano at the helm. In a way I wish the audience could have a tiny window into the thoughts that run through a performer's mind during any given night of music making, for my mind rushed with so many thoughts of my parents and where they might be now and could they hear the noise down here, of my "opera family" and it's search for the delicate balance between sanity and insanity, of life and death, of the glory of making music with such esteemed colleagues, of what must be racing through each audience member's mind as they are taken their individual journey, and more - and yet the only vehicle for expressing all of this are the preordained notes and ancient text which have been (divinely?) scribbled down by an old man over a century before. How ridiculous it seems on the one hand, and yet how rapturously sublime.

*Photo: from the San Augustino Church in Siena before the Concert

Home cooking!

Ah. Home sweet home! I'll admit that it is a touch Pavlovian, but the minute I fly across the geometric planes of Kansas, I start getting the distinct urge to bake! It's tricky trying to whip up something on the road, especially when in Europe, as I'll never trust myself to get the conversions just right, but here at home it's the thing that slows me down and takes me back to those memories of helping my Mom trim the excess dough off her heavenly apple pie, and getting my hands on that coveted spatula dripping with the leftover batter!

This time around it's ZUCCHINI BREAD, courtesy of my sister-in-law! I can't recommend it enough:

*Preheat oven to 350*

3 eggs beaten
1 C vegetable oil
2 C sugar (I can't resist using half brown sugar)

2 C fresh zucchini (peeled, grated, and packed firmly)

3 C flour
1 Tbls. cinnamon
1 1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda

*Sift flour, cinnamon, cloves, salt and baking soda together.
*In a separate bowl, beat eggs, oil and sugar together.
*Mix grated zucchini in with egg mixture.
*Fold in sifted dry ingredients.
*Pour mixture into lightly greased 9x5 bread loaf pans.
*Sprinkle batter with a mixture of cinnamon and sugar.
*Bake @ 350* for 1 hour, or until done when tested

Makes 2 loaves.

(The only other caveat I might add is that I LOVE to add chopped walnuts and dried cranberries...use your imagination!)

There. I feel much better, now!

ENJOY!