Take some good coffee (Doncafe, the red packet being my preferred version, I am far too much of a wuss to go for the super strong green packet) and a Bosnian coffee maker thing that has a name but it escapes me right now.
Put one tablespoon per person into the coffee maker thing
Heat up the coffee a little. When you can smell it add some boiling water
Wait a while, but pay attention. The coffee will soon start to bubble up. If you aren't paying attention it will go all over the hobs.
Take off the heat and add just a tiny bit more water
This will lead to a creamy sort of froth that looks as if you have added milk.
Let stand for a little while. Then pour into a cup
Enjoy.
If you are Bosnian you will have already added a fair amount of sugar at the beginning of the process with the coffee. You can now also dip a sugar cube into the coffee as well, or even a Bosnian Delight (same as a Turkish Delight). Take your coffee over to the computer and head over to Insomniac Mummys Best of British Parent Bloggers Carnival, for a moment of peace.
I absolutely love hearing the stories behind the songs that people love; the places it reminds them of, that moment in time that that song will forever bring to life for them. Obviously I have more than a mild obsession with Desert Island Discs and the Inheritance Tracks that they do on Saturday mornings on Radio 4 but I also harbour a secret dream that for my 40th birthday (years to go, people, note the plural) my Mum and Dad will do their own Desert Island Discs for me. I long to hear of the songs that they love, why they love them and what they remind them of and to have those moments bought to life for me.
Anyway, here I am in a blogging blah and needing inspiration. So I thought I'd start a meme. If Tara can goes the reasoning... What I'm after is a song that reminds you of something, that has a story for you. Not necessarily your favourite song or a even a song that you love, but a song that instantly takes you back to that time and place.
To start the ball rolling, I'll show you what I mean:
The year: 2004.
Dave and I were moving back to England from Bosnia, driving back across Europe with our worldly belongings stuffed into the back of our little Renault Clio (this being the pre children era we could get away with a small car). It was April, but still cold. We'd been camping all the way along the coast of Croatia, and had been rained on constantly. The previous night in a campsite across the water from Korcula, we'd put the tent up in a howling gale and Dave had insisted upon cooking dinner on the campstove. I'd been up for a local pizza, but camping mush it had been. The next morning everything was wet. Everything. Tent. Sleeping bags. clothes. The duvet was starting to smell damp and distinctly unpleasant and the car had that musty smell mixed with wet garlic and onions. It was cold. It was chucking it down with rain.
We packed up and set off on our drive in the pouring rain again. About 10.30 I ventured that I would quite like a coffee please. Dave, who well knows what happens if I don't get some caffeine early in the day, concurred and immediately turned the car right. I was impressed. The man obviously knew where a coffee place was. It wasn't looking promising, the Croatian inland was looking pretty bombed out and not like there would be a suitably marvellous coffee place, with sofas, fresh coffee, papers. You know the kind of place I was thinking of. But he had confidence so I believed.
Oh, foolish, foolish girl. We pulled over beside a wall on a very exposed hillside and Dave leapt out, lighting his trusty camping gas stove. The rain was sleeting down, the wind was howling, but that was not to deter him, out came the gas stove windbreak to ensure the flame didn't go out. The water duly boiled and a cup of instant coffee (with powdered milk for good measure) appeared just as a single lonely ray of sunshine hit the car. There was really only one song that could be the soundtrack for that moment and Dave started to sing it. Those of you who remember the Maxwell House Advert in the 1980s will not be surprised to know it was Johnny Nash's - I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Has Gone.
We sang it the whole of the rest of the way from Croatia to Calais. I had to laugh, there was no other option even being the coffee and cafe snob that I am. As Dave said, I do remember this rather disgusting coffee for far longer and with much more fondness than any other cappuccino in any other Croatian cafe.
I married the man for a reason. His addiction to the windbreak for his calor gas stove.
I know there are a few memes going around out there at the moment. But I'd love to read the other stories people have behind some of their favourite songs. Hopefully one or two of this lot, my very favourite bloggers, are not too memed out and have the inclination to take it on and then pass on to a couple of others.
I keep thinking of more people to add but the list is getting out of control. If you fancy taking on the meme then consider yourself tagged! Just leave me a comment so I can come and read your post.
One of the biggest cultural aspects of Bosnia is coffee. Nothing happens without it. At the border post waiting for our insurance to be resolved I shared a coffee with the border guards. Any meeting, any visit to a house, literally any time you do anything you have a coffee.
I really like Bosnian coffee which is just as well. A proper Bosnian coffee is dark, smooth and with a lot of sludge at the bottom (reflecting the Turkish influence of their history). You drink it strong, sweet and black and it will keep you awake for hours. A skinny latte it is not.
I think what I like most about the coffee is the ritual of its making. In the days when I used to smoke, it was always the ritual of smoking that really attracted me; the search for a lighter as much a part of smoking as actually inhaling. Bosnian coffee is made in its own special coffee pot, the coffee heated before any water is added and then there is stirring, settling, sugaring. I made my first pot since arriving in Bosnia today and it did the trick. Now I can't remember why I have left the coffee pot I bought when we were here 4 years ago languishing at the back of a cupboard for so long. With 2 babies during this time and a distinct lack of sleep you would have thought that the caffeine hit would have been exactly what was needed.
from David McMahon of AuthorBlog for Laundry Life AND for Building Roads and Driving Trains
Followers
The Players
Fraught Mummy: That's me. I'm married to Dave, blessedly unfraught and who is my partner in trying to maintain a modicum of control the three random variables who also live in our house.
Variable X: Adam, 4 1/2 years old. Looks angelic and can be. But not if it involves his brother having fun.
Variable Y: Luke, 3 years. A legend or a liability, you can never tell which it will be.
Variable Z: Jessie, our golden retriever. She loves food, any food, however revolting it may seem, and doesn't feel the need to be invited before helping herself, which can prove difficult around other peoples picnics.
Sometimes I'm successful in getting all three round a walk in the park, but generally I sound like a shrill rugby referee.
Posts
