Une Belle Soirée: An Evening of French Wine, Music & Pure Enchantment

At the top of the evening, awaiting a fascinating experience!

There was something magical in the air that April evening — and it started long before the first note was played. It was an Aries New Moon, that astrological new year that arrives each spring, and it carried with it the unmistakable feeling of a fresh start.

The day had been gloriously warm and beautiful, the kind that makes you feel quietly grateful just to be outside. But as lovely as it was, it was only the beginning — a gorgeous day giving way to an evening that would turn out to be truly exquisite.

The evening took me to Hilbert Circle Theatre, home of the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra, for a program that was entirely and gloriously French. Debussy, Fauré, Ravel, Saint-Saëns — an exquisite lineup of composers whose music seems to breathe a different kind of air, transporting me somewhere altogether more beautiful the moment the first note sounds. But what made this particular evening especially special was who was playing it. Rather than the customary guest soloists brought in from afar, this concert shone a well-deserved spotlight on some of the orchestra's own, its newest and most talented principals, stepping out front and center to remind us, beautifully, precisely why they were entrusted with their place in this remarkable ensemble. There is something uniquely wonderful about watching musicians you've seen in the ensemble suddenly take their moment in the spotlight. It feels personal, intimate. Like being let in on a wonderful secret.

But before a single note was played, there was the wine.

A separate and thoroughly worthwhile ticket took me upstairs to The Wood Room, a space on its own that is intimate and elegant yet immediately welcoming, its windows looking out over Monument Circle — the very heart of the city. The sommelier had already begun pouring as guests arrived, glasses of rosé catching the light as if the evening were in a hurry to be beautiful. The seating was open, and I found myself at a table with a lovely couple to my left, and two women to my right who, I would later discover, were sisters…one of those charming little surprises that only an evening like this can produce.

The sommelier herself guided us through four French wines with warmth and ease, beginning with two sparkling wines of the Crémant d'Alsace type — one a rosé and the other a white wine, the latter being a particular early favorite of mine, crisp and elegant and very French — before moving into the reds. The Pinot Noir and Cabernet Sauvignon came next; paired with a small piece of hazelnut chocolate from the table's platter, I let it linger for just a moment, and then I had a sip of the Pinot Noir. As a Scorpio, I feel everything deeply and passionately, and the flavors that followed danced across the palate in the most delightful way. A true amuse-bouche in the most memorable sense.

Two from the Crémant d'Alsace type and my overall favorite, Pinot Noir; not pictured: Cabernet Sauvignon

The wine tasting had been a beautiful beginning, but the evening was far from finished. Walking into the hall, there was that familiar and delicious shift in the air. The quiet hum of anticipation that only a concert hall can produce, the sense that something wonderful is about to happen and everyone in the room knows it.

The opening notes of Fauré's Pavane drifted out into the hall like a whisper from another world. It was the perfect choice to open an evening of French music; unhurried, graceful, and achingly beautiful. For me, music that moves me has always had a way of conjuring images, and the Pavane was no exception. As those first notes unfurled, I saw, like a misty and hazy vision in my mind, an old leather-bound book heavy with history, slowly opening its pages to reveal a tale that was ancient and fascinating and unmistakably French. It felt less like a concert beginning and more like a story being told. And I was already completely enchanted.

Next came Claude Debussy's Danse Sacrée et Danse Profane, and with it, the evening's first soloist, principal harpist Claire Thai, stepped into the forefront. What followed was nothing short of otherworldly; ethereal, luminous and utterly dreamlike. I felt as if I was wandering through some celestial realm or exquisitely fantastical world, just beyond the edges of imagination.

The mood shifted delightfully with Camille Saint-Saëns' Tarantelle for Flute, Clarinet, and Orchestra, a piece that arrived like a burst of sunshine after a beautiful dream. Saint-Saëns is a composer I don’t encounter nearly as often as I should, which made this particular offering all the more welcome and special. Principal flautist Jungah Yoon and principal clarinetist Julianna Darby took the stage together, and what they delivered was utterly charming — playful, nimble and irresistibly alive, the two instruments chasing each other through the music like old friends in a lively conversation.

Speaking of “old friends,” that’s what hearing Saint-Saëns was like for me in that moment. As a young violist at university, I had the privilege of performing his magnificent Symphony No. 3 in C Minor, also lovingly know as the Organ Symphony — one of those formidable and unforgettable pieces that has left its mark on me in the most glorious way.

Then, the moment I had been waiting for all evening. The one that felt like reaching the most captivating chapter of that old leather-bound book, the pages practically turning themselves. Maurice Ravel's Tzigane for Violin and Orchestra (another from my university days, when I watched fellow students pour themselves into it for their recitals), was performed by principal second violinist Bryson Karrer, and he delivered a performance that was passionate, fascinating and completely thrilling. And for those who know the piece, the moments of left-hand pizzicato are a particular joy — as visually stunning as they are aurally spectacular, a true feast for both the eyes and the ears. Karrer navigated Tzigane with breathtaking fluency and flair, leaving no doubt whatsoever as to why he holds his place in this remarkable ensemble.

The evening finally arrived to Debussy's Images — and it was here that something truly extraordinary happened in my mind's eye: The old leather-bound book that had opened so gracefully at the evening's beginning began to shapeshift, its pages dissolving into a canvas upon which the most breathtaking Impressionist masterpiece was being painted. To me, it’s as if Debussy's music is precisely what a French Impressionist painting would sound like — and Images proved that beyond any doubt.

There was something deeply satisfying about hearing the full orchestra come back together after intermission for this final offering, a sense of everything gathering itself into one last, glorious statement…and glorious it was. As I sat and listened, I found myself once again transported back to my university days, when I had the privilege of performing Debussy's Nocturnes. Having performed Nocturnes decades ago, I still remember Debussy’s language, and Images felt like a glorious reunion with that same lush, opulent world, viewed now through more seasoned eyes and ears. I’d like to add that it was during the “Iberia” movement where it became truly sumptuous — juicy, rich and intoxicatingly alive. The kind of music that reminds me exactly why I fell in love with playing in the first place.

When it was over, I lingered for a moment in the beautiful aftermath, already reflecting on such a truly magnificent performance. The Aries New Moon was still casting its spell, that potent energy of new beginnings hanging softly in the air, and I found myself wishing that time could have slowed just a little.

That the last page of that beautiful French story could have taken just a little longer to turn.

Evenings like this one are a beautiful reminder of just how extraordinary our cultural life truly is here in the city. We have musicians of this caliber — passionate, gifted and deeply committed to their craft — right here on our own doorstep.

Every city has its cultural gems waiting to be discovered. A symphony, a theater, a gallery. Seek them out, support them, and let them transport you. You may be surprised by what you find right in your own backyard. No flight to Paris necessary.

At least, not yet.