calimac

Charles Dutoit put in an appearance, to lead an exceedingly expansive performance of the Shostakovich Tenth. So broad-paced was it that the slow introductions, of which this symphony has a thundering lot, seemed entirely glacial. It paid off once the tempos picked up, though, because there's nothing as inexorable as a glacier on the move, bearing down on you. Putting the weight behind the power is the way to get great Shostakovich.

Also on the bill, Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 2, with Kirill Gerstein, a balding guye. Same approach, slow and expansive. Made it sound like late Mozart.

Despite being buried in work all day - nigh literally; I'm actually having to peer over piles of research books on my desk even to see the computer screen - I left in time to finally make a return visit for dinner to the Chinese restaurant out in the far Sunset with the great lamb. This time I had Mongolian lamb, much less seasoned than the cumin lamb that I had before and consequently more lamby in taste: juicy and scrumptious, with crisp onions. Next time I'll have to try their Mongolian shrimp, a dish that ought not to exist and which, indeed, usually doesn't: I've only ever seen it once before.