If music be the food......

Gemma and I got into a big discussion the other day. Usually I rant on, the girls loose interest after the first "and ANOTHER thing" that I squawk and I end up talking to my soup, but this was different. I asked Gemma what her soup tasted like. The uninformed tend to say things like glue, paint, water or "it's nice, I think" and I have to explain glue, paint and water are more texture than taste. I haven't eaten much glue, or paint in my life, but I know what they mean and it is texture.
Gemma has heard that rant before, so looked puzzled and then said hesitatingly "Tomatoes?" As it was tomato soup she was right, but no cigar. I taught Jodie a scale that I have always used, and was hoping that Gemma would pick it up. Jodie and I wave our hands around- High would be lime, white chocolate. Low would be bitter dark chocolate, rich stew. There are a lot of grades inbetween, and it doesn't always work simply. Certain soups- parsnip and apple for example, should be sweet, and deep at the same time. It is high and low, but the true flavour should be somewhere in the middle- a balance where one thing does not outweigh the other.
There is also a front to back scale. A beginning, middle and end. Mandy, when made to try things, always refers to this. She says things like "There is a lot of beginning, and end, but nothing in the middle." This usually refers to seasoning. Again the balance- Red pepper, chilli and lime soup is a good one for this. The flavour should begin with pepper, then the chilli should make an appearence, finishing with the lime but the pepper should remain all the way through.
Gemma waches with bemusment as Jodie and I wave furiously at each other saying "It's too much up there, add milk to bring it down a bit" She can taste the differences, but cannot vocalise them. Gary was the same until we discovered he had synaesthesia. That is he described flavours in terms of colour. Mushrooms were a dark brown, oak rather than mahogany. Stew was purple. This worked for Gary, and I learnt to describe the mixing of flavours, but I used to find it frustrating as I couldn't explain the subtle shades and blends that salt or sugar would add. When I looked at Gemma I realised I would have to find another way to describe flavours.
I tried various things. Blank looks all round. I would have to think harder. Then I remembered Gemma's boyfriend. He does beatboxing. He is very good, and thus Gemma listens to lots of music, while he tries to make all the sounds using his mouth. Gemma understands that he learns to make one beat, then learns another, and adds to it, to create the tune. "Ha!" says I turning to Gemma triumphantly "it's a band!" Again a blank look but I knew I was on the right track. Her soup was all guitar. No base line, no high hats. We fixed it, various conversations sprang up regarding stew being Wagner, Chowder being trance and rissotto was verging on drum and base.
Conversley Nico Muhly is a composer and has just joined the Chicago Symphony orchestra. When he writes he makes Veal stock, he says you have to go and skim it every 15 minutes, and the more you add the deeper the flavour. This is how he sees his music. He skims bits away, and adds different sounds to make the full ensemble. I love the fact that there is a composer who takes his inspiration from food, and we can take our inspiration from music. Every piece of music has a beginning, a middle and an end. From the solo tune, that relies on volume and strength to make it powerful to the large orchestral works where the smallest ting of a triangle will make a world of difference.
I wonder what the next person I teach will respond to. I am running our of metaphors but I am so happy that with Gemma, it was music.