Can't help falling in love with you

My favourite episode of Jamie Oliver's "Oliver's Twist" series is simply entitled "Chocolate". The plot is as follows: Jamie and his wife are celebrating their wedding anniversary but have no one to look after their 4 month old daughter. So Jamie cons some chicks from his restaurant to babysit her in return for some chocolate goodies that he concocts in front of us. The recipes are typically Jamie - easy and absolutely delish. During the episode, the girls are asked why they like eating chocolate so much and one of them simply replies "because eating chocolate is like falling in love". And I completely agree with her.

Here's what Wikipedia says about chocolate and the love aspect: "Romantic lore commonly identifies chocolate as an aphrodisiac. The reputed aphrodisiac qualities of chocolate are most often associated with the simple sensual pleasure of its consumption. Additionally, chocolate's sweet and fatty nature may stimulate the hypothalamus, inducing pleasureable sensations as well as affecting the levels of serotonin. While serotonin has a pleasurable effect, in high concentrations it can be converted to melatonin which in large amounts reduces sexual drive. Finally, chocolate has been shown to contain unsaturated N-acylethanolamines which might activate cannabinoid receptors or increase endocannabinoid levels resulting in heightened sensitivity and euphoria. Although there is no firm proof that chocolate is indeed an aphrodisiac, a gift of chocolate is a familiar courtship ritual."

So there's no hard and fast evidence that eating chocolate is like falling in love. But read again the following sentence from the above extract: "The reputed aphrodisiac qualities of chocolate are most often associated with the simple sensual pleasure of its consumption." That to me sums up everything we do in life for pleasure. A scientist can't tell you what makes you feel good and not so good, what music to listen to and what to avoid, what and who to love and not to love. It's your gut instinct that tells you, your heart, there's little or no logical or scientific explanation to it. Personally, I think that although logic is all well and good, too much logic can keep us away from the people and things we love most and sometimes, instead of thinking it helps us can hinder us. We should start listening to hearts and guts more instead of our heads.

So go out and buy yourself the best bar of chocolate you can (I can recommend Lindt or Valrhona), sit somewhere nice and comfortable and have a piece or two. Or have some chocolate ice cream. Or go for a walk. Or ride your bike. Or read a book. Or strum your guitar. Or listen to some music you like. Or phone or visit a friend. Or write a blog. Whatever you do, do something you like that makes you feel good. It may not seem logical to you or the people you know, but who cares? It'll do wonders for you.

If you have a bit more free time on your hands, and you like cooking like me, here's a recipe from the "Chocolate" episode that's just divine - chocolate sundaes.



Mmmmm...all this talking about chocolate has given me a bad case of the munchies...I'm off to have a piece of Valrhona pecan chocolate...yum!

Talk soon,
The Knitting Songbird

It was seven days ago today

Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Oh man, didn't I (and still do) love that album. I'll never forget when I first bought it. It was 1988, I was a hormone infested Year 12 pupil and "it was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play". To celebrate the 20th anniversary of its original release they re-released it as a limited edition red vinyl LP. And being a mega Beatles fan I just had to have it. But I wasn't the only one and had to reserve my copy from the record store near my school. Thankfully, they knew me well and said "no prob, bob!". What bliss it was holding it in my hand and then playing it on my record player...I played it over and over again, knew all the words off by heart, could dissect almost all the millenia of E major scales in "A day in the life", laughed at some of the songs and stopped and pondered others...

And so time goes on and this year marks 40 years since its original release. Sergeant Pepper has "been going in and out of style" since then and apparently the album's not as highly rated as it once was...which makes me think of my blog. "You're such a lovely audience", but I think I'm a bit of a bore and am considering giving up. It's been seven days since I started this blog and I've received a few comments, both good and bad. But like Julia Roberts says in "Pretty Woman", it's easier to remember the bad stuff. But then a friend and fellow blogster said "why should you care what other people think?", which is absolutely true. And so, I've decided to stick to it...for now...

Anyways, here's a great song from the album, one of my faves, written by the "quiet Beatle", George Harrison, "Within you without you". And the lyrics hold true for all of us, this blogster included - "Try to realize it's all within yourself, No-one else can make you change, And to see you're really only very small, And life flows on within you and without you". RIP George...

I have a dream

Who can forget the inimitable Abba, the, to me, ultimate Euro pop band, the band that entered the scene like a supernova way back in 1972. I have to admit that I'm not embarrassed to admit that I loved them and still do. There was a period when it was uncool to admit you liked Abba and suppressed the feeling but then "Muriel's Wedding" came out and all those old childhood memories came flooding back - me with my pigtails, in my kneehigh Abba socks, cycling circles around Belmore Park. And I started listening to them again.

I think that one of the first albums I put on my record player as a child was an Abba album. I can't for the life of me remember the name of it but I know it was black and the band members were in a kind of "circle", girls standing at the back, boys kneeling in front. I liked Frida 'cause she was dark haired like me and was always, even though she usually sang lead vocals, seemed "second best" to Agnetha who was "the girl with golden hair", the pretty one. I didn't have golden hair and most certainly was never the pretty one, far from it, so Frida was a hero.

They mixed so many styles - from disco in "Dancing Queen" or "Waterloo" to the latin-esque in "Fernando" to moving ballads like "I have a dream" or "One of us". During their "out" period I dismissed their song writing as dumb, crass, bubblegum stuff. But listening to them now, I have to say that that perception is totally wrong. I mean, who could compare a break up to Napolean's ultimate downfall or a soldier in the Mexican revolution or sending out an SOS like Abba did? And compared to today's pop standards, Bjorn and Benny were bloody Mozart and Beethoven!

Way back when, I liked the high energy stuff, "Mamma mia" and "Ring, ring" were my favourites. But I now prefer the more "high brow" stuff, if you can call an Abba song that!!! Two of my favourite songs nowadays are "I have a dream" and "Thank you for the music", in particular the latter. Although I'm not the "girl with the golden hair" or "have a talent", the song rings so true to me. The lyrics go like this:

I'm nothing special, in fact Im a bit of a bore
If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before
But I have a talent, a wonderful thing
cause everyone listens when I start to sing
I'm so grateful and proud
All I want is to sing it out loud

Refrain:
So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me

Mother says I was a dancer before I could walk
She says I began to sing long before I could talk
And I've often wondered, how did it all start?
Who found out that nothing can capture a heart
Like a melody can?
Well, whoever it was, I'm a fan

Refrain

I've been so lucky, I am the girl with golden hair
I wanna sing it out to everybody
What a joy, what a life, what a chance!

Now, it would be a huge lie to say "I have a talent" 'cause I don't. But I don't think that's the entire point. Nothing can capture my heart like a melody can. And so, I'm gonna try and make my dream come true 'cause as Abba says "If you see the wonder of a fairy tale you can take the future even if you fail".

Why not give it a try even if I do fail? We learn from our mistakes, don't we? And isn't life too short not to go after your dreams? So when I come back from France in a week and a bit, I'm gonna write an email to my friends at 101 and see how I can go about recording a CD. I know I ain't gonna be an Eva or Ella or Edith but hey, I can be a Mary, can't I? Will keep you posted :)

And here's the song:



Take care and go after your dreams,
The Knitting Songbird

Un homme qui n'aime pas le fromage ne peut etre bien au lit

Or, in English, A man who does not like cheese can't be good in bed. At least, that's what Collette said. I can't say I agree or disagree but I have to say that I don't understand people who don't like cheese. Not Kraft Philedelphia or prepacked sliced cheese or stuff that tastes like rubber in your mouth, but proper, unpasteurised, mouth watering, real cheese.

I adore the stuff and could live off it - aged, young, smelly, creamy, piquant, I love them all. Unfortunately, growing up in Australia there wasn't much of a choice when it came to good quality cheese except at the local Italian deli. I never understood why my mum always bought farmer's cheese for her strudels and cheese filled pancakes from them instead of the mass produced cream cheese from the local Franklins. But I do now - buy the best, from the best.

I think I became a food snob and put Italy number 1 on my cheese map because of that humble little Italian deli. Now don't get me wrong, I love French, Swiss, Dutch, Norwegian, Croatian, etc. cheeses but nothing gets me going like Grana Padano, Parmigiano-Reggiano, Gorgonzola, Provolone, Peccorino, Marscapone, Mozzarella di Buffala...

As an ode to good old Italian cheeses, here's a little recipe I came across recently. Don't know if it'll help the libido or improve your technique but it'll sure get the taste buds going! And do buy PDO or in Italian DOC/DOP cheeses - they may cost a bit more but they'll be worth your money.

Risotto quattro formaggi

1 onion
1 clove garlic
2 tablespoons olive oil
50g butter
1 sprig rosemary
500g rice
1 glass white wine
1 1/2 litres stock (preferably chicken or vegetable)
50g each fontina, gorgonzola dolce, marscapone (crumbled), parmigiano-reggiano (grated)
Salt, fresh ground pepper

Fry the onion and garlic in the heated oil and butter. When softened add the rosemary and stir a bit, then add the rice and stir until it turns glossy. After this, add the wine. Once the wine has evaporated, add half the stock and slowly add more as necessary. When the rice is almost ready, stir in all the cheeses except the parmigiano-reggiano. When done, stir in the the parmigiano-reggiano and salt and pepper to taste. Take off the heat and put a tight fitting lid on for a minute or so, then serve. It should be very rich and very creamy...

Buon apetito,
The Knitting Songbird

PS Australia has thankfully come a loooong way when it comes to cheese making since the 1970's and 1980's when I was growing up. In fact, some cheeses can compare to the greats, in particular King Island cheeses from Tasmania. If you ever happen to come across them, do give them a try, they're heavenly!

Let other folks make money faster

Don't ask me why but while I was practising my singing yesterday I decided to take out an old book from my uni years and came across a song I sung for my 5th Grade AMEB exam. It's called Linden Lea by R. Vaughan Williams. The melody is deceptively simple (deceptively, because it's always the simple melodies that are the hardest to get across emotionally), almost like a hymn, and is very lovely and moving. This is the best version I could find on Youtube:



But when I gave it a try (and failed miserably after not having sung it for 16 odd years!), it was the words that touched me most. They go like this:

Within the woodlands, flow'ry gladed
By the oak trees' mossy moot
The shining grass blades, timber shaded
Now do quiver underfoot
And birds do whistle overhead
And water's bubbling in its bed
And there for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea

When leaves, that lately were aspringing
Now do fade within the copse
And painted birds do hush their singing
Up upon the timber tops
And brown leaved fruit's a turning red
In cloudless sunshine overhead
With fruit for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea

Let other folk make money faster
In the air of darkroom'd towns
I don't need a peevish master
Though no man may heed my frowns
I be free to go abroad
Or take again my homeward road
To where, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea

The text was written by the Dorset poet William Barnes in the 1840's/1850's (not sure of the exact date) who wrote a lot of poetry in the Dorset dialect. As Wikipedia says "Barnes's poems are characterised by a singular sweetness and tenderness of feeling, deep insight into humble country life and character, and an exquisite feeling for local scenery" which holds very true for Linden Lea.

Not one to give up so easily, I gave it a try again today and it turned out better than yesterday. I would be so bold as to say that it turned out better than it did 16 odd years ago. Unfortunately, my voice isn't as lovely and supple as it was then, just like the rest of me (singing an open high A was a piece of cake, now I can just baaaarely get an open E flat out) and the notes do sometimes sound a bit forced, but I think I get the words across better than I did then.

I was always environmentally aware - you know, recycling stuff, saving water, I was born on Earth Day after all! - but I now understand our connection to nature more deeply. My dream now isn't to have an apartment somewhere in the North Shore overlooking the Opera House and Harbour Bridge as it was then, rather, a little wooden cottage, somewhere in Gorski Kotar with a vegetable patch, an orchard and some bees to call my own, somewhere where I can put my ear to the ground and listen to my veggies and fruit growing.

Yeah, I know, I'm a typcial baka (granny)!!!

Now go for a nice walk somewhere instead of being on the net :)
The Knitting Songbird

Love me tender

It's funny where you can find inspiration. I was walking across the field behind my house today and saw a plethora of butterflies fluttering by, orange, blue, yellow, white, without seemingly a care in the world and was totally mesmerised. I had to stop and take a longer look. So long I was almost late for my bus! But I just adore butterflies and couldn't resist. And I knew that my friend Davor who I was meeting up with would understand if I were late because I was watching butterflies. That's the kinda guy he is.

But most of all, people inspire me. Eva Cassidy, Ella Fitzgerald, Edith Piaf, Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, Vince Jones, Nana Mouskouri, Freddie Mercury, Jim Morrison, Valborg Werbeck-Svardstrom, Bach, Mozart, Schubert, Che Guevara, Lorca, Frida Kahlo, Magritte, ...the list goes on and on. They've all touched my life in their own special way. But the people who inspire me most are the people I know, my family and friends. I look at them as jewels in this crown we call life, each of them making my day dazzle in their own special way. They're the ones who inspire me to be better than I am, to pick myself up (or pick me up themselves) when I fall, to do what I wanna do and be who I wanna be.

It wasn't because of some sort of 'fad' that I started writing this blog. Two very dear friends from different sides of the planet inspired me - my friend Ross (http://rossmusician.blogspot.com/) and my friend Davor (http://www.cromagnon.bloger.hr/). I read their blogs religiously every day and can't wait for their new posts. I'll never have a blog as good as theirs but I hope that it'll at least be somewhat readable...

Now my friend Davor has inspired me in the most curious way, a way I thought I would never be inspired. He's inpsired me to write a romance novel. Yep, you heard right, a romance novel. Here's the deal: he starts a story on his new blog (http://ljubavni-roman.bloger.hr/) about a certain 'Bea' and the readers have to finish it. When I read about the idea and the story itself, I almost fell off my chair - both in utter surprise and in laughter. I loved the idea of "finishing" a romance novel, it's the absolute height of kitsch and corniness! And now I've decided to take on his challenge. I'll definitely let you know how it goes. I've got a few ideas running around my head but I know that the couple will originally get together because of their mutual love of music and Elvis (hey, it has to be total and utter kitsch, right?).

May you find inspiration wherever you go,
The Knitting Songbird

PS A huuuuge thank you to all my family and friends: my mum, my children, Maria, Ross, Rinaldo, Jorge, Davor P, Irina, Sinke, Davor B, Baldo and my colleagues from choir, Madame and my colleagues from the Alliance Francaise and my best friend in the world (even though he still hasn't even looked at this blog!!!) Ivan. Love ya all!

PPS Thanks Davor for the plug on your blog site :)

The country of 246 varieties of cheese

Well, that's how Charles de Gaulle described France, but the number of cheeses has since then grown to over 1000, imagine that...but that's another story...and another post...

Believe it or not but next week I'll be, God willing, on my way to France. It still seems like a dream for me which will hopefully come true when I sit on the plane and land in the City of Lights. A dream because I constantly fantasise about France and all things French.

I've been thinking lately about how it all began, this obsession with France and French. Like most things in life, it sort of began, as we say in Croatian, bez veze or for very little reason at all. I was in Year 10, and I had to choose a subject to 'fill in' my curriculum. So I chose French. I think it was because I really liked the teacher. She had taught me English for a couple of years and was really quite hip for a 60-odd year old. She told the best anecdotes ever and had a knack for making English and any subject she taught seem alive (she was a director in a theatre at one stage and I'll never forget her anecdote about Shakespeare and "an union". Well, in old English, they used to say "an union" which, when you think about it, is more correct than "a union". But because this is not the case nowadays, the actors would constantly make the faux pas of saying "an onion". It's really quite easy to make Shakespeare accessible to a hormone-ridden teenager when you think about it :). It was a year after I had lost my dad and she was just the kind of teacher I needed - someone to inspire me and make me feel alive after feeling a bit dead for a while.

So, I studied French for a year and started to think about the HSC (Years 11 and 12). And I thought, well, I did pretty well at French this year, why not go for it? So I did. Then I started thinking about uni.

I knew I wanted to study music, that was the do all and end all for me, but in Australia you have to study 4 subjects during your first year, 3 in your next and 2 in your last for your Bachelor of Arts. Or at least some combination of that. So I thought about a double major in music and theatre studies, they seemed to complement eachother and I could work in opera or musicals. I also chose to study French and Russian in my first year. Well, I was a total and utter flop at theatre studies, had absolutely no talent whatsover for acting, was just horrible at it and was now at an odds as to what to do. I had a bit of a background in French, none at all in Russian, so I again went for the French. And that's how I completed a double major in Music and French.

Since then my fascination with France and all things French has grown from strength to strength. I've visited Paris 4 times now and started going to the Alliance Francaise 6 years ago for French lessons. And I recently discovered where this fascination may stem from. It might not be so 'bez veze' after all. You see, my father's side of the family, the Crnkovics, were Croatian nobility through marriage to the Frankopan family during the 17th century. At one stage, a member of the family, Ivan Crnkovic, moved to France under the name of Jean de Noir (Crn in Croatian means black or in French noir). Unfortunately, most of the family were killed during the French revolution and existing members fled to Italy under the guise of - wait for it - de Niro (could Robert be a long lost cousin???). One member returned to France when Napolean came to power but died in the Russian campaign. His wife then moved to Croatia.

I have to say that when I read this on Wikipedia, I was pretty bloody spooked. I had gone to Catholic schools all my life so I believed in eternal life - eternal heaven and eternal damnation. But suddenly I thought, could eternal life mean something else? Could eternal life mean something other than a place up in the clouds or a fire infested hole, rather, the soul passing from one generation to the next, from one family member to the next one? Why are we so drawn to the people, things, music, books, etc. that we are? Could these all be from the past lives we have led? We'll probably never have the answers to those questions but it sure does make for interesting thinking and pondering...

'Til next time take care,
The Knitting Songbird

PS I have to admit that thinking about eternal life and what it's all about has not shaken my faith in God and Jesus Christ. However, I have to admit, it does sadden me to see where Christianity has gone to since that humble Man from Nazareth, born in a stable, was on this earth among us. Many of us have since forgotten to "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." But I still have hope for humanity and think that we will all come to realise what is really important in this life, that l'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

Les feuilles mortes

Ah, autumn. It hasn't arrived here officially yet but you can already feel a crispness in the air, see the trees changing colour, taste the first apples, grapes and pumpkins at the markets (the pears arrived a few weeks ago), hear the birds slowly moving on to warmer climes. I have to admit, I was a summer person for a bit there, a couple of years maybe, but I've gone back to my roots this year and prefer the coolness of autumn and winter. Autumn is a wonderful time for doing the things I love like baking - there's nothing like having a warm kitchen during those cool nights - or knitting. Snuggling under a nice warm blanket, listening to someone like Eva Cassidy (she to me is the ultimate autumn person) and the needles clicking away, waiting for the apple pie to finish. Many people would say that I'm such a baka (granny) but what can I do, that's me!



Here's a wonderful autumn-y recipe given to me by my lovely friend Irina. No one (except maybe Jamie Oliver) has changed the way I cook, eat and think about food like her. Thanks Irina! And the great thing about this recipe (besides that it's dead easy) is that it is sooooo healthy that it makes you think, how can something so delicious be good for you too??? Try to get the best ingredients you can, preferably organic.



Baked apples



4 washed and cored apples
2 tablespoons of wheat germ (I sometimes leave them out 'cause they can be a bit hard to find 'round here but this doesn't effect the recipe at all)
2 tablespoons of chopped hazelnuts or almonds
2 tablespoons of barley syrup or honey
2 tablespoons of soaked sultanas (if you're feeling naughty, like I sometimes do, instead of soaking the sultanas in water soak them in rum)
1 tablespoon of freshly squeezed orange juice



Preheat your oven to 180 degrees C. Place the apples on an oven try. Mix the rest of the ingredients together and stuff them into the apples. Bake for 20 - 30 minutes et voila, c'est finis!



Autumn also reminds me of one of my favourite songs of all time, Les feuilles mortes. Eva does a lovely version of it, as does Nat King Cole, but to me, Yves Montand's is the original, ultimate, definitive, basically best version ever. As the guy who posted the video says, if you're pining after a lost love, don't listen to this song - it'll just make your heart ache even more. It sends a shiver up my spine and brings a tear to my eye everytime I listen to it. You've been warned:



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLlBOmDpn1s



It's a pity that the Americans butchered this song in terms of translation. The original is so full of emotion and beautiful imagery that you can see the person raking the leaves with a wistful look on his/her face, perhaps looking towards the sea with the wind blowing and the waves crashing. Here's the original French version by, in my opinion, one of (if not the) best French lyricists and poets ever, Jacques Prevert and the literal English translation below it:



Oh! je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes
Des jours heureux où nous étions amis
En ce temps-là la vie était plus belle,
Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié...
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle,
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Et le vent du nord les emporte
Dans la nuit froide de l’oubli.
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié
La chanson que tu me chantais.


REFRAIN:
C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble
Toi, tu m’aimais et je t’aimais
Et nous vivions tous deux ensemble
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis.



Oh! I would like so much for you to remember
The happy days when we were friends.
At that time life was more beautiful,
And the sun shone more brilliant than today.
The dead leaves collect with the shovel.
You see, I did not forget...
The dead leaves collect with the shovel,
The memories and the regrets also
And the North wind carries them
In the cold night of the lapse of memory.
You see, I did not forget
The song that you sang me.



REFRAIN:
It's a song that we resemble
You, you loved me and I loved you
We lived together both of us
You who loved me, I who loved you
But life separates those who love
Very gently without making a sound
And the sea erases under the sand
The footprints of separated lovers



And here is the American bubblegum version which just can't compare - soooo much less emotion, just soppy and sentimental in my opinion. They don't even use the beautiful recitative at the beginning of the song, only the refrain! Pity that Eva left us too soon - I get goose bumps thinking of her singing Les feuilles mortes in French...now THAT would be the ultimate version!



The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winters song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall


Until soon,
The Knitting Songbird

Midnight is where the day begins

I don't know about you but everytime I think about lemons I think of that fabulous U2 song 'Lemon'. Here it is on youtube:



//http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fCE_ASpejs



And it rings true for me - midnight is where the day begins. The time when the kiddies go to sleep, when everything is quiet, when I've finished a day's work of cooking, cleaning, washing and all the rest of it, when I can finally sit down a bit and read a book or do my knitting or a tapestry or, now, write this blog. Or, for example, make a cake like I did last night! This is a lovely lemony cake created by the equally lovely Tessa Kiros, one of my favourite cooks. I discovered her in an issue of 'Cuisine et vins de France' and have bought a few of her books since (still have to grab her latest 'Peri Peri'). I've adapted the recipe a bit, cut down the sugar and whatnot. Give it a whirl and tell me what you think. It's dead easy so you boys give it a go too - believe me, there's nothing that impresses a girl or a boy more than a boy who knows how to cook!

Yoghurt and semolina syrup cake

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees C. Grease and flour a lamington tin (I think they're about 20 cm x 30 cm). Separate 3 eggs. Beat the whites until peaks form. Cream 125g butter and 1 cup brown sugar together. Add the egg yolks, 250 g yoghurt or buttermilk and the grated peel of 1 lemon. Sift in 1 cup of flour mixed with 2 teaspoons of baking powder, 1 cup of semolina and 1/2 cup of ground almonds. Carfeully fold in the egg whites. Pour the batter in the prepared tin and bake for about 40 minutes.

While the cake is baking, boil 1/4 cup of lemon juice and 1/4 cup of brown sugar so that the sugar melts and it turns into a syrup. When the cake is finished, prick it all over with a toothpick then pour the lemon syrup on top.

Bon appetit!

PS I have to say that one of the many wonderful things about growing up in Australia is having citrus fruits in your backyard. My kids still can't fathom that I had an orange tree, a grapefruit tree, a mandarin tree and a lemon tree growing right in my backyard. I really miss that about Australia (among other things, like my mum and many of my dear friends...). But then again, I never had a cherry tree growing in my backyard or wild strawberries which taste of Mother Earth herself like I do now...I guess I have the best of both worlds!

What can I say?

Yes, what can I say. Except that I've been sucked into the world of blogs. I resisted it for a while, it seemed a bit, I don't know, technical for me I suppose and I'm anything BUT technical (just ask my husband - I can barely change a lightbulb!). But after having read the blogs of a few great friends of mine (who, I might add, write fabulous blogs) I decided, oh, what the hell, let's give it a try. Don't have much to lose except a bit of my time and dignity...

I don't have very high hopes for this blog, I look at it more as a diary of my thoughts, things I've done, recipes I've made (I'll post a yummy recipe for lemon semolina drizzle cake tomorrow), songs I've sung or aspire to sing, things and people that inspire me, most especially things and people that inspire me. My Lord, there's so much inspiration out there, it's sometimes overwhelms me. So much stuff going on and so little time...I'm sure a lot of you out there will agree with me...

Well, that's it for now. I'm gonna do a profile of myself now. How selfabsorbing is that gonna be?!?!

Take care and be very healthy, a little wealthy and most of all, wise,
The Knitting Songbird

PS I bet that some of you that know me are thinking "The Knitting Songbird, what's that all about?!?!?". Well, it's the three 'P's that keep me sane everyday - pjevanje, pletenje and pecenje or in English, singing, knitting and baking. I love to knit and adore Eva Cassidy who was the ultimate songbird so it's an ode to her and my love of knitting that I named my blog The Knitting Songbird. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have named my blog the Baking and Knitting Songbird....too late now!

PPS You're probably asking yourselves about the horse photo too. Well, I've gotten back into horses after a 30-odd year break thanks to my daughter and the Viennese lippizaners I saw in July (the photo is of a Croatian lippizaner).