Jessica Chiccehitto-Hindman spent years playing violin all over the country in an ensemble led by a man she refers to as The Composer. The thing that audiences all over the land didn’t know was that no one in the ensemble was actually playing their instruments during the concerts. It was all coming from a CD. In Sounds Like Titanic, Chiccehitto-Hindman relates her experiences traveling the USA and pretending to play music for crowds of all sizes. Her story is fascinating, funny, and incredible, yet true. The author was kind enough to participate in a Q&A with us. Below, she discusses her book, gives us some tips on instrumental music we should check out, and, of course, tells us all about her experiences with and insights on pizza.

Enjoy the interview and make sure to read Sounds Like Titanic!

1. Your memoir exposed an incredible ruse perpetrated by "The Composer." After publication, did you receive any backlash from "The Composer" and/or the music community at large?

I did not receive any feedback of any kind from The Composer. But I did hear from folks who worked for his ensemble. All of them were supportive and had nice things to say about the book. And musicians from around the country have written me to say that they have identified with parts of the book, which is so lovely to hear.

2. We understand that you are an English professor, but do you still play violin professionally?

No, but sometimes people invite me to play for their weddings. I try to talk them out of it because a) my playing was never that great to begin with and b) my English professoring takes up most of the time I'd need to practice, which, for a standard wedding would be an hour a day, every day, for at least three months. They say love is blind, but when it comes to me playing violin at weddings let's hope it's also deaf.

3. We're a pizza club, so we have to ask what the pizza scene is like where you live. Do you have any favorite pizza places or types of pizza to order/make?

First, I LOVE that you are a pizza club, as this is the best sort of club I have ever heard of and now all other clubs will sound inferior to me. Second, I will probably get into trouble by writing this, but I think the pizza scene where I live (Northern Kentucky, near Cincinnati) could use some improvement. As an Italian-American and someone who lived in New York City for ten years, I have been known to rant about the pizzas here in Kentucky being too much: Too much sugar in the sauce, too much sauce overall, too much toppings, too much "dipping sauces," too much everything other than the delicate gustatory symphony of dough, tomato, and mozzarella. Nota bene: Buffalo chicken wings, let alone their tangy-sugar-grease sauce, do not belong anywhere near a pizza, let alone on top of one (I am preemptively dodging the gnawed chicken bones hurled by Kentucky pizza eaters as I write this). All that said, I think pineapple is fine. Just don't forget that what you're trying to eat is a pizza, not a Buffalo Chicken Wing Ranch Dip Pina Colada.

Also, there is one pizza establishment in Northern Kentucky, which I will not name, that almost has very good pizza. They sell by the slice and the sauce and cheese is terrific. But the dough is so tough--turning to a gluey brick as soon as it hits your gut. It is probably responsible for paying the salaries of all the region's gastroenterologists. That place is a (delicious!) menace to public health.

After doing my own pizza research across the United States, my pizza ideology falls generally in line with this article, although I would add that the "pizza belt" should include a swath through West Virginia (where many Italian Americans worked in the coal mines) as well as Pittsburgh and Cleveland. California also has good pizza. Eating a pizza in Texas, on the other hand, is asking for (BBQ-flavored) trouble. I am very curious about the Indiana Pizza Quality Index (IPQI?), as you are in close proximity to Kentucky. I will be following your club to see if any of your findings in Indiana could be put to good use here in Kentucky.

Like any proper Italian-American, my very favorite pizza is my mom's, which she makes from scratch (the same dough is also used for pepperoni rolls, the official state food of West Virginia). She has recently informed me that the only good flour for making this dough is King Arthur, even though my grandmother used Robin Hood flour. There is probably a metaphor here about upward mobility in Appalachian-Italian baking practices. The point is, think about the flour you use when making pizza.

As for pizzeria pizza, all my favorites are in New York City. Koronet Pizza, on the Upper West Side, provided my daily caloric needs for an entire year of college. One of their cereal-box-sized slices can be yours for $3.25 in the year of our Lord 2020. Their pizza is a bit greasy but still better than what you'll find most anywhere else, and their dough is really good. For a more refined NYC pizza experience, I like the arugula and mozzarella pies paired with nice red wines at Otto's in the West Village. And then there are those to random 24-hour establishments in lower Manhattan and Brooklyn where someone gives you a fresh hot slice right when you need one at 3am.

4. In your book, you humorously share with us your experiences in 2004 at a Cartersville, GA pizzeria called Pepperoni's. Sadly, at least according to our research, Pepperoni's has gone out of business. Since our members will never get to try it themselves, could you share a few memories relating to the style and quality of Pepperoni's pizza?

I am sorry to hear that about Pepperoni's, but as I write in the book, given the establishment's name, I was skeptical that a stick of spiced meat could run a pizza franchise in rural Georgia. It is not surprising that such an unusual business did not survive. As I recall, Pepperoni's pizza shared deficiencies common to American pizzas outside of the pizza belt--a crust that is committed to neither thick nor thin, veggie toppings not entirely unfrozen, and the true American pizza plague: Super-sugary sauce. My mom says you only need a teaspoon of brown sugar in a 4-6 cup pot of sauce, and even then only if you're working with unripe, sour tomatoes. Everyone needs to start heeding her wisdom. Your pizza will taste better and your diabetes will be better managed.

5. This interviewer will admit that he had not listened to Aaron Copland (except for the beef commercial) until you wrote about him in your book and then I sought him out. His work is fantastic! Do you have any other suggestions for music that our members might enjoy checking out while stuck indoors avoiding COVID-19?

I'm so glad my book turned you on to Copland - how wonderful! And yes. I'll stick to giving recommendations for instrumental music (any music without sung or spoken words). I try to avoid the term "classical music" because in my experience when folks hear that phrase they immediately think of someone telling them to eat a bowl of plain boiled broccoli. But I promise all of these pieces are, on the pleasure scale, closer to delicious pizza:

6. If you could eat a pizza dinner with any 4 musicians or composers (dead or alive), who would you choose to eat pizza with and why?

First, I'd choose one of the violinists from Vivaldi's all-female orchestra, just to get the dirt on what he was like as a maestro and what it was like to play in an all-female orchestra in eighteenth century Venice. Second, the very much alive Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg, who plays the violin like a general galloping into a righteous war. Third, Courtney Love, the female composer of a genre and generation-defining musical masterpiece, which was cruelly eclipsed by her husband's suicide. And finally Hope Sandoval, because, like music itself, she is a beautiful mystery. Now that I think about it, these are all women who have had to navigate the male musical world in extraordinary ways. That's one thing I'd ask them about, among many other things. I'd make them my mom's pizza and use the good flour.