Photos by Amy Pickup The first time I heard Annie play the flute, it was a sad and beautiful song about fall on one of the hottest days of the summer, crowded in a sweaty Bushwick loft. I’ve spent most of my life going to concerts with amplified sound and had never heard that kind of flute-playing, with so much emotion and meaning in it. “Swooning” is an old-fashioned word that comes to mind. I was taken out of time, welcomed into an interior part of my friend that had never quite came across through words despite all the conversations we’ve had. The next day I flooded her phone with a waterfall of texts. We could structure a dinner-concert around the themes she’d circled around in that piece, which was about the cycles of loss and growth. We could hold it in the fall. A few weeks later, the perfect culinary symbol made itself obvious: mushrooms.
Looks like a glorious evening of fun!