bettysoo's stevia macaroons

Since so many have asked me for the recipe for my reduced sugar macaroons. I originally posted it on Facebook, but I have tweaked the recipe some since then. Here it is:

BETTYSOO'S STEVIA MACAROONS

Ingredients:

3 large egg whites (at room temp)

pinch of cream of tartar

2 tablespoons coconut oil

2 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons of butter (melted and cooled)

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup unsweetened coconut flakes

1 tsp to 1/4 cup raw stevia (depends how sweet you like it. I admit I like them SWEET!)

about 75 semisweet or extra dark chocolate chips (sorry, I don't know how many oz)

1. Heat your oven to 350F, with a rack set in the middle.

2. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper (I use a Silpat mat).

3. Beat the egg whites until frothy (I do this in a Kitchen-Aid. You can use an electric mixer...or if you have the forearms of Popeye, you can do this by hand. I cannot do this by hand.), then add the cream of tartar. Continue to beat until the egg whites form stiff peaks.

4. Mix in the coconut oil, butter, stevia, and water. (Remove the bowl from the mixer after this, if you're using a stand mixer)

5. Gently fold in the coconut - you might want to do half at a time. Don't worry if the egg whites deflate some. 

6. Spoon the batter onto your prepared cookie sheet. The batter should make little mounds about 1/2" to 3/4" thick. If it's really thin and looks too runny, put it back in the batch and add more coconut.

7. Bake until the edges are lightly browned, about 15-20 minutes. 

8. While baking, set out your chocolate chips so they are easy to pick individual ones up. When you remove the tray from the oven, immediately transfer the macaroons to a wire cooling rack, then place 3 chocolate chips on top of each macaroon. By the time you have set the chocolate chips on the last macaroon, the first ones, while they may not look melted, will be melted. Drag a fork across the chocolate chips to spread the chocolate, so it looks drizzled. (This is much less messy than melted chocolate and drizzling it onto each cookie, and you can control how much sugar you are eating per serving!

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - A Return

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, A Slight Return

BettySoo writes from the road again, this time in London

(Oct 4, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is blogged for the Austin Chronicle during her European tour, which took her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany this spring. She returns for one more, from the UK.

After a long day’s travels, Doug and I each arrived (separately) at London’s Heathrow Airport, where our friends Roger and Kate were awaiting us with beautifully painted welcome posters. Of course, the airport had my flight listed going into a different terminal.

Sam Baker & BettySoo
photo by Richard Webb

We completely missed one another and the beautiful grand welcome, but we eventually met up outside, on our way to picking up the rental car.

Roger West, a true Londoner, was kind enough to pick up the keys and whisk us from the airport so we could start getting used to English traffic patterns (left turn roundabouts are everywhere!). I first met Roger and Kate in Austin, as he visits several times a year to record music or perform or make videos. His music is quirky and fun, and he himself is an extremely thoughtful and generous host and friend. He volunteered to be our London driver and host, and Doug and I were lucky to be in such capable, caring hands.

We had one day to rest, then we were off to Buckingham for our first show. Unlike most of our North American friends who tour here, Doug and I decided to forego hiring a driver/tour manager and to drive ourselves around England and Scotland. Needless to say, it can get a little stressful driving on the right side of the car on the left side of the road, particularly on small country lanes where there is only room for one car, and there is a double-decker bus coming straight at you. But you get used to it.

When we got to the Radcliffe Centre, we were amazed to see we were playing in a very old meeting hall (that looks like an old church), connected to a hospital that was built in the 1400s. The show was a treat. It was actually kind of a mini-reunion and anniversary of sorts. Doug and I were opening the show for Sam Baker, one of my favorite songwriters and a dear friend I hadn’t seen in a couple months. We had a great time, singing songs together and joking with Chip Dolan (who is traveling with Sam and has recently discovered his own deep love for cappuccino) over dinner.

It’s a treat when your first show on a tour goes well. It’s another treat to run into friends from home when you’re far away. And it’s another treat to be surprised by other familiar faces, but it’s especially lovely when all these things somehow come together in one night, and they did, when Po’Girl, who was slated to play the next night at the Radcliffe appeared just in time to jump up on stage for the encore. I had met and become friends with Po’Girl exactly one year before, when we were teaching at the Sisters Folk Festival’s Americana Song Academy in Oregon, so it felt magical that our first time seeing one another again was here, one year later, on stage singing with Sam.

Of course, any time away from Austin creates a tug in my heart for home, but nights like this help me feel my home comes with me, even as I travel.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 7

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I tried to include more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 7

Home is Everywhere

(June 19, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

One of my favorite aspects of touring is finding I have an extended family all over the world. In Austin, musicians are really fortunate to have a community among ourselves who support and celebrate one another (as well as a general city population who loves the local music scene) in a way I haven’t seen in other music centers in the U.S. But beyond city or state lines, touring musicians are often blessed with a worldwide community of players who share and understand the mixed blessings of living on the road.

Tish Hinojosa, Andreas, Doug,
and BettySoo in Hamburg

A few years ago while touring through the South, I was debating whether to stay one more night in Nashville or head further down the road. I went by the Bluebird to see who was playing, and “T HINOJOSA” was on the menu board in the window. I asked the woman at the entrance if Tish Hinojosa was playing. She told me yes, but the show was sold out, so I started back to my car. Tish stopped me in the lot, handed me her guitar, and walked me in.

Nowadays, she lets me know when she’s coming to Austin (she’ll be here this July!), and we catch up when we can. Doug and I stayed with Tish and her husband Andreas here in Germany. They took us out for a tour of Hamburg, whisking us by her impressive harbor then taking us up into the tower of St. Michael’s, Hamburg’s most iconic church. They led us to temptation via a large music store and introduced us to the century-old Silbersack, one of their favorite bars, where owner Erna has shown up for work every night for 62 years. They even included us in their holiday weekend in the country with friends.

Erna and BettySoo
at Silbersack

So far, in almost a month of touring in Europe, we have stayed in one hostel and one hotel. Every other night we’ve been in the guest rooms of bass players, singers, radio deejays, drummers, guitarists, songwriters, restaurateurs and artists. The instant kinship among working musicians is not easy for me to explain, but I think it’s probably easy to understand.

We meet in unexpected places. We sleep on each other’s floors. We attend each other’s shows when we can, and sometimes we invite one another to climb on stage to sing or play along. We stay up late talking, laughing, sharing songs, trading war stories, draining bottles. A wise friend recently taught me people in real community share both the terrible and wonderful things of life with one another, thus dividing their sorrow and multiplying their joy.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 6

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I tried to include more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 6

BettySoo wraps it up - on the road from the Netherlands to Germany

(June 11, 2011)

Ruins in Nijmegen 

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

My last stop in the Netherlands was the ancient city of Nijmegen. I’ve been told it is the oldest city in the country, established by the Romans. There is a palpable weight borne in this place by the second World War, for several reasons.

First, it was the site of one of the largest airborne landings near the end of the war, and both military and civilians shared in tragedy and triumph together. The bridges of Nijmegen were battled over fiercely. Second, the coordinates here were mistakenly inserted rather than those for the targeted German city, and so Nijmegen lost many of its Roman ruins when it was bombed.

Nijmegen's giant shingle rabbit

When the war comes up in conversation – and it does, repeatedly – the city’s residents grieve Nijmegen’s role in WW II battle history and what it lost because of war in general more than it resents the barrage of fire it received from German forces. Doug and I visited one of the city’s main bridges and the Roman ruins that overlook the water, and for 2011, there is a big shingled rabbit sculpture next to the ancient buildings. Why a rabbit? I have no idea, and I didn’t ask. The enormous rabbit has an observation deck built in, but it was closed the day we visited.

The next day, as we crossed into Germany, Doug and I said in passing that we figured that would be the last we’d hear about the war for a few weeks, assuming no one in Germany would want to talk about it. We were wrong. The first town we played in was Holzminden, a lovely old city on the Weser River. We sat at a café with a friend, watching kayakers move quickly past. I asked what a few of the buildings around us were for, and we admired a few of the old buildings close to the water.

Her face turned serious, and she said, “It’s such a shame. There used to be a very nice old building in the city center, but it was bombed in the war. There used to be very many old castles and beautiful buildings in this country, but now you have to travel to certain towns to see anything really old. All because some stupid Germans had to go to war.”

As she spoke, she grew angrier, and Doug and I found ourselves squirming a bit in our chairs. She continued, “And there are still stupid people like that here, Germans who think they are better than everyone else.” She is, I should point out, completely German.

We left Holzminden to visit friends who were staying with their old friends in Bad Essen. We were guests of guests. When Doug disclosed during dinner that he is Canadian, our host pointed past a few houses outside the kitchen window and said the last soldier who was killed in this town during the war was a Canadian and is buried nearby. He wasn’t killed by another soldier but by a local villager.

at Netherlands' windy coast

Two generations later, the war is still on everyone’s mind, and it’s one of the first things people bring up. We just listen, and mostly, they talk only about the local facts: churches or old buildings they have lost, how many anonymous soldiers were killed nearby, which nations’ armies were in their area.

I don’t know how to ask any questions about it, and I don’t think I want to. Sometimes your only role is to listen and look and learn.

BettySoo and Doug Cox are touring through Europe this spring and in the UK for several weeks in September. Both musicians tour year-round in North America and abroad to promote their project, Across the Borderline. Their new album, Lie to Me, comes out this summer.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 5

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I tried to include more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 5

BettySoo contines her road diary from Amsterdam

(June 7, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

“Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice,” Doug murmured as my expectant expression turned to disappointment at the great guitar shop De Plug in Amsterdam. It was here in late 2009 I found my East German Brasilia guitar, and I guess I was still hoping to find an affordable European gem among the high-priced vintage Gretsches, Gibsons, and Guilds.

Our friend Patrick told us his favorite shop, from which he has yet to leave empty-handed, is Palm Guitars, but we didn’t stop by since it’s usually closed Mondays. While at De Plug, we did try out a very cool Vox-Humana lap steel, made in the Netherlands, but the price was a bit steep, so we wished it a happy life filled with the music of someone else’s songs.

Amsterdam is darker than I remember. Not different, really, but I think I let myself feel the sadness of the city more this time around. It has echoes of a grand past: imposing church buildings, impressive museums, beautiful canal crossings, an impressively grand central metro station. It has the feel of a place whose grandness started to decline a long time ago, without much effort to reverse the trend. It’s a city that caters to tourists and to humanity’s seediest interests – literally. You can hardly walk down a narrow street without finding Amsterdam’s infamous coffee shops (hash bars) and seed shops for those who want to grow their own.

The signs and posted menus for restaurants and cafes are printed in four languages for the tourists, and the rough-faced men in suits standing in the doorways of the live sex clubs pose their invitations in English. They call out to teenage American boys (why are they always in pairs?) staring gape-mouthed into windows displaying bikini-clad Slavic-faced women who are, oddly enough, busy texting on their cell phones.

It’s strange to think this is the city where Anne Frank penned her journal. When wandering aimlessly from street to street, it almost fails to cross my mind that this is the home of some of the greatest art collections at the Van Gogh Museum, the Rijksmuseum, and the Hermitage. There are grand theaters here, along with bustling retail traffic, a major financial center, and some great graffiti art.

But for me, this time around, the grandness of what Amsterdam has to offer is diminished by tributes to Jim Morrison, bumbling tourists gawking at prostitutes, and sour expressions on the faces of the people working here – a stark contrast from our experience this past week traveling through the rest of the Netherlands countryside.

When I was here in 2009, I brushed past the red light district as a funny if embarrassing accidental discovery. Like this time, we had wandered in and through it without realizing quite where we were going. My first visit here, I was struck full of awe and wonder at the architecture, the canals, the millions of bicycles, and the fashionably-dressed citizens.

It was like lightning.

BettySoo and Doug Cox are touring through Europe this spring and in the UK for several weeks in September. Both musicians tour year-round in North America and abroad to promote their project, Across the Borderline. Their new album, Lie to Me, comes out this summer.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 4

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I tried to include more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 4

More from the Netherlands' City Center

(June 5, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

The big news here is that [Ratko] Mladić is finally in the Hague to stand trial for genocide and war crimes. It’s a bit strange staying in a city the world is watching but not hearing or seeing any news media that I can understand.

And unlike Italy, where I could understand at least some of the headlines and signs thanks to years of Spanish in Texas schools, we mostly find ourselves looking for graphic hints rather than trying to decipher unpronounceable Dutch street names.

Doug Cox and BettySoo

The experience at the shows is just the opposite. In Italy, we had to move quickly from song to song – banter was totally lost on most of the audiences we performed for – whereas in the Netherlands, almost everyone speaks some English and understands the jokes. The lack of language barrier seems to lead inevitably to talk about politics.

One night this week, Doug and I stayed with a friendly couple who ushered us in, shared their wine, and started talking music. Ten minutes later, our host announced, “I hate America. I hate Americans, I hate capitalism, and I hate American music.”

Um…

Really though, he was a gracious and friendly host to us. He showed us his beautiful flower and vegetable gardens, fed us a generous breakfast, made sure we were comfortable in his guest rooms, accepted our CDs as gifts. He said he’d give them a listen, even though we make “American music.” (Doug protests, “I’m Canadian!”)

In the Hague, it’s a little more obvious why the Dutch could have hard feelings. Right in the middle of this international city’s center stands the awkward U.S. Embassy, choking up traffic and surrounded by what looks like temporary fencing that is too high to be attractive. There are obvious armed guards posted in little booths in front and across the street. No other embassy in the city looks like it, and apparently there’s been an agreement to move the Embassy out of the city center. It’s become a visible symbol of a bullying presence.

Gineke, BettySoo, and Fred

Of course, not everyone feels this way toward the U.S., or the music from across the Atlantic. In the Hague, we stayed with my friend Fred, who writes for a Dutch music site. He and his spirited wife Gineke have played host to many of our friends over the years, and they are a well-traveled pair. They’ve been to several continents and have probably stayed in more of the fifty states than most U.S. citizens. His music library is extensive, as is his accompanying knowledge – like most serious Americana fans here, he reminds me of those great (and increasingly rare) radio deejays, the ones who have committed thousands of pages of liner notes to memory and have met so many troubadours over the years that the stories aren’t all second-hand.

And our next host, from whose amazing home I started typing this entry, has apparently spent his life on passionate pursuits, one of which is great food (hurrah for us!), another of which is collecting. His collections are vast: tens of thousands of music CDs, almost all of which are great and/or important for some reason; hundreds of great movies; live music DVDs; graphic novels; books about World War I, psychology, poetry, child development, and who knows what else.

He has a bookshelf two stories high that houses nothing but material about Bob Dylan, but his first and truest musical love is Van Morrison, and we spent hours watching live DVD footage of his hero. I hesitate to admit I was a bit skeptical about endless Van Morrison videos, but all that viewing did me good, especially VM Live at Montreux, 1980. During that night’s concert, I worked harder and spent more as a singer than I think maybe I ever have, almost hyper-aware of the dynamics and melodic movement of each song. It was exhausting but exhilarating.

Doug Cox and Inneke23

Fast forward 36 hours. We’re sitting around a country dinner table, eating Belgian beef stew with frites, mayonnaise, endive salad, and applesauce. Our group of six is made up of Doug, myself, our hosts Annette and Patrick, and two songwriters we shared the afternoon’s show with: Inneke23 (Belgium) and Little Birdie (Canada). At some point, I find myself defending the love of sports. Someone made the offhand comment dismissing sports games as unimportant, inconsequential, what does it matter if you miss one stupid game your favorite team plays? It’s silly when people get so riled up about it all.

I didn’t make any points during this conversation anywhere near as well as I wanted. But as I sat there stammering out parallels between what we as musicians do and strive for and what athletes train for, I was picturing our friend Kees, the Van Morrison fanatic, who with his friend Bart has traveled the world to see scores of concerts by this icon, who owns more music than he can listen to for the rest of his life, and whose labor of love (a listening room concert series) provides income, a place to stay, and unbelievably great meals for songwriters who come through the Netherlands. Images of Mladić floated in my mind, brushing past the comforting faces of fans who show up at my concerts in multiple cities and know immediately when I’m playing a song they’ve never heard.

I guess what I am still struggling to say is that I hope it matters. When any of us finds something we love to do (with any luck, we are good at what we love to do), and when we strive to do it in a way that is special, when we work to study what others have done in our field and try to contribute to the achievements of those who’ve gone before us, I hope it matters. Where would any of us be without collectors, sports fanatics, concertgoers, the passionate who believe art, music, sports [insert your own passion here] are more than silly entertainment?

BettySoo and Doug Cox are touring through Europe this spring and in the UK for several weeks in September. Both musicians tour year-round in North America and abroad to promote their project, Across the Borderline. Their new album, Lie to Me, comes out this summer.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 3

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I tried to include more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 3

BettySoo, live from the Netherlands

(June 2, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

Mc-Wifim somewhere between the Hague and Utrecht

I was in the wrong place, but it must have been the right time. Doug and I performed at a small festival near Spijkerboor in the Netherlands this past weekend called Festival Wilderness Songs. I thought, “Whoo hoo! We’re playing a festival!” I was envisioning big CD sales and the thrill of wooing a large new audience.

Basically, we played a set in someone’s large backyard to a modest crowd who mostly already owned my album. There was a nice, small covered stage, a tent for the listeners with lots of tables and chairs underneath, one concession stand, one booth with local treats, a barn full of chandeliers and knickknacks (the property owners are antique dealers), and a couple flags in the street acknowledging sponsors.

After the festival, we meandered over to Café ‘t Keerpunt, where I had performed during my last tour in the Netherlands with Abi Tapia and Charlie Faye, to have a drink and meet up with my friend Jan, our host for the night. We were immediately welcomed by a woman who ushered us into a lovely room with large tables draped in lavender-grey tablecloths. The young woman behind the bar asked if we had sung earlier that day, and I said yes, at the festival down the road. She poured us two dark, strong beers and said to sit anywhere.

It felt a little awkward – the square tables each sat about sixteen – but there were no stools at the bar, so we came to the same conclusion one reaches daily while touring abroad: “Okay, that’s just how it’s done here.” About ten minutes later, we were one third of the way through our beers, and a steady stream of older people who knew one another – but didn’t know us – started filling the room and seated themselves at every table but ours. Finally, a few of them came over to us and asked whose guests we were. D'oh!

As it turns out, we were crashing a party for a large senior choir who had just finished performing a string of concerts, singing a mix of classical pieces and select works of Queen (have you seen Young at Heart?). A friendly choir member chatted us up and urged us to stay and eat, joking we could sing for our supper, but his friend ratted us out to the choir president, and we made a hasty exit.

In the front room of the café, we found Willem, 't Keerpunt’s gregarious owner, behind the bar. He knew me immediately, which stunned me. He has my promo postcard behind the bar in a wax envelope, and my picture is framed on the wall. He balked at the tab I brought over from the private party, refused to let me pay for our drinks, and insisted I come back to perform again soon.

I am writing this in a beautiful, modern McDonald’s somewhere between the Hague and Utrecht. While mildly ashamed at the relief I feel seeing those ubiquitous arches from the highway, I find it’s the one place you’re guaranteed to find free Wi-fi and a clean bathroom with toilet seats that you don’t have to pay to use. Of course, it’s slightly embarrassing to visit America’s little hamburger colony while spending time in a mostly slow food culture. But at least you know what you’ll find.

BettySoo and Doug Cox are touring through Europe this spring and in the UK for several weeks in September. Both musicians tour year-round in North America and abroad to promote their project, Across the Borderline. Their new album, Lie to Me, comes out this summer.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 2

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I tried to include more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 2

Every Day is Moving Day

(May 30, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

Piombino

When I tell people I’m heading to Europe for a month to tour, the reaction is always, “Wow, need a [insert job description of your choice] with you on the road?” It is a treat to drive through beautiful places, try different foods, and meet all kinds of interesting people, many of whom you never quite figure out what they do for a living.

But touring a foreign country as a musician is largely different from being a tourist. As a musician, you often can’t stop at those beautiful places; you drive through them in the morning on your way to the next gig or in the dead of night on your way to your hotel.

For example, when we drove south from Milan toward Tuscany, we passed right by Pisa. We never got as far as Rome. We didn’t visit Venice or Florence. We drove the same four-hour stretch of mountainous highway four times in as many days. In one grueling series of events, we drove across northern Italy; walked to the wrong TV studio (they sent us the wrong address); were insulted by a TV host just before going on air; had a power transformer fail, frying my laptop one day before I had several deadlines for sending ad graphics and this blog back the U.S.; got locked out of our hostel in the middle of the night; paid too much for a hotel whose garage entrance was so narrow we scraped the side of our tiny KIA rental; lost our UK phone; and got 90 minutes of sleep before heading to the airport, where our 43 kilos of luggage (including the guitar and Dobro!) cost us about 40 Euros in fees. (European flights have a strict 20-kilo per person limit).

Somehow, when five o’clock rolls around, and we are loading into the next club, we have to find the ability to smile and be absolutely thankful to play another show. And at eight or nine, when the audience is sitting with their beer, trying to understand my lyrics and Doug’s and my lame attempts at jokes, cheering us on, it’s easy. At one in the morning, we pack the last of our unsold CDs along with our instruments and gear and head back to the car, hoping it is where we left it, without a ticket.

At about two in the morning, we get to the hostel or the promoter’s girlfriend’s apartment or occasionally a very comfortable music fan’s home. We unload everything again, spend some time getting to know our hosts, sleep for a few hours, get up, load out, and start over.

It feels a little like every day is moving day, and that part isn’t any different from touring back at home in the U.S. Of course, it’s expensive to get here, and some of the daily living expenses are higher here, especially with the exchange rate as it is. And of course there is the language barrier and the occasional difficulty of deciphering road signs and traffic patterns. But there is also the gift of unexpected generosity from music lovers, the small tavern owner who remembers you from 18 months ago and has a snapshot he took with you framed on his wall, the old woman who gives you a special deal on her homemade eggnog, and the surprise of a fan mouthing all your lyrics while you sing.

At the end of the day, what makes this worth all the trouble is not only that I get to do what I love, playing music. My reward comes in the connections I make with people everywhere. Some people are moved by the songs, crying or laughing as they listen to the lyrics and the melodies. And others move me, with their stories and hospitality, with the political and religious discussions we have late into the night. I didn’t visit the Spanish Steps, but I have new friends, some of whom I hold as dear as friends I’ve known for years. Jan and Maria, Willem, Gianna, Andrea, Thomas and Hillie.

BettySoo and Doug Cox are touring through Europe this spring and in the UK for several weeks in September. Both musicians tour year-round in North America and abroad to promote their project, Across the Borderline. Their new album, Lie to Me, comes out this summer.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour - Part 1

For those of you who don't read the Austin Chronicle religiously, you might have missed a series I penned for our favorite weekly paper while on the road last year. I wanted to share the installments with you here, at long last. I included more photos here than there was room for in the Chronicle posts.

(Some Parts of the) World Tour, Part 1 

Singer-Songwriter BettySoo battles elasticity in Italy

(May 28, 2011)

Guest blogger BettySoo is writing about her current European tour, which is taking her across Italy, the Netherlands, and Germany. You'll see dispatches here over the next couple weeks. 

First lesson in Italy: Pack stretchy jeans. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I packed one pair of skinny jeans, but I obviously wasn’t picturing myself in yoga pants amid effortlessly fashionable Italians, thanks to several days of eating in Tuscany.

Thank God the one stage outfit I packed for my month-long European tour includes a skirt with an elastic waist. I’ve edited my insanely detailed Tour Packing List, which would make Rick Steves proud: items #90 and #93 have changed from “One Gig Outfit” and “Jeans” to “Decent Going Out or Stage Clothes with Elastic Everywhere” and “Extremely Forgiving Jeans.”

How do the Italians stay so slim? I have no idea. Maybe it’s the cigarettes. There’s more secondhand smoke on some sidewalks than there is oxygen in a greenhouse. If only there wasn’t so much food. And if only it didn’t taste so good. Here is a typical conversation at meal time in the beautiful coastal town of Piombino:


“Are you hungry?”

“Sure, we can eat. Yes, thank you…” 

“Would you like a big meal or something light?”

“Something light would be nice.”

“Okay, sure, maybe just a salad?”

“Sounds wonderful, thank you.”

Ten minutes later, she brings each of you salads the size of LuAnn platters, each with 12 slices of prosciutto, large clumps of fresh mozzarella, four slices of fresh brown bread, a full sliced tomato, shaved parmesan cheese, olives, and a light dusting of arugula. Needless to say, I ate ALL of it.

Then there was the “light spaghetti meal,” which consisted of spaghetti with tomatoes, served alongside olives, canned artichokes, fresh artichokes, fennel, leeks, two kinds of bread, a semi-hard cheese, four kinds of soft cheeses (which they eat in bites the size of a large fig, so it fills your whole mouth), salad greens, prosciutto, white wine before dinner and red wine during dinner, then cantuccini, gelato, and vinsanto for dessert. At the pizzeria in Como, I was the only one who couldn’t finish my 16-inch pie.

Gattarossa

The tour took us all over northern Italy: Cantu, Como, La Spezia, Milan, Riva San Vitale (barely across the Swiss border), and our favorite spot, Piombino. One notable hang in this Tuscan town is Gattarossa, which overlooks the water from a scenic point and whose open air café benefits from the year-round temperate weather. If you drive the curving highways amid the mountains of northern Italy southward through Tuscany, a large industrial scene rises to greet you, obscuring one of the true gems on Italy’s western coast.

An ancient town with existing buildings and walls dating to the 14th century, Piombino built its economy in the last century mostly on steel. However, the steel plants which used to employ tens of thousands of workers now employ only a couple thousand, leaving the local economy struggling, with hopes of attracting visitors to build a new economy based on tourism.

View from Gattarossa

While I personally dread seeing the effect heavy tourism can have on such a picturesque city, I also understand the town’s desire to create incomes for its residents based on the beauty of the scenery. Piombino still possesses unspoiled coastal views and dramatic hillsides unmarred by the mansions that descend upon seaside towns when discovered by the visiting wealthy. So let’s all go to Piombino, visit the shops and historic sights, and eat what the season offers. Then we’ll leave, without caving to the temptation to ruin the view for future visitors.

Second lesson in Italy: You’re not going to look cool, even if you try. Our last day in Italy sealed this lesson for me. Doug and I went to a regional television station for an interview and to do an in-studio performance. After trucking our instruments and gear across a large pedestrian area, we arrived at the station, where I excused myself to change clothes and throw on a little makeup. When we met, the host looked me over and asked gently, “BettySoo, don’t you want to go to the toilette to change your clothes?” Cue the sad trombone.

Third lesson in Italy: Leave your wristwatch at home. No one seems to mind if you’re a little late in Italy, and they certainly aren’t impressed if you show up early. Everywhere I visited, folks weren’t there yet to witness my punctuality anyway, so rushing around only led to a whole lot of “hurry up and wait” situations.

I have a feeling this might be different in Germany.

Doug Cox, practicing Dobro backstage
at Giostreintesta Festival, in Riva San Vitale.
Surprise! The festival is apparently in the lot of a
recycling facility!

BettySoo and Doug Cox are touring through Europe this spring and in the UK for several weeks in September. Both musicians tour year-round in North America and abroad to promote their project, Across the Borderline. Their new album, Lie to Me, comes out this summer.