30 January 2015

He stood up over the workbench, stretched his hands and cracked his back.
Shook the wood shavings that have perched on his hair and blew with his bottom lip the ones that were snowing down on his face.  He felt the hunger screeching in his guts and reached for a chair.  Pulled the tin box from under the bench and took a roughly wrapped brown bag with few oily stains leaking from it.  Slowly he teared the paper and looked with promising joy and excitement the greasy chorizo snuggling in a soft, full of air pockets focaccia.  A bite; than two and then a catch of breath.  The pleasure was starting to crawl down the stomach and settled with a good sip or gulp of cold beer.
Aaah, cigarettes never tasted better then after a nice hearty snack.  I guess the only better pleasure for him would've been the day he sees the small wooden boat finished...

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© 2015 - sophia terra~ziva.  all rights reserved


26 January 2015

Good morning Ilva and Simi!  It is that time of the month when three of us get together.
I am sorry, I slept in…
But it is the end of the week and I felt like rolling in the bed and enjoying the lazy long weekend.
What’s for breakfast?  Ah, wish I were still a kid and don’t have to make it – just to wake up to the smell of something specially prepared and waiting on the kitchen table!  And usually that would be the smell of melted butter that the crepes have been cooked in, spreading from room to room and finally comes to tickle my nose and wakes me up happy.  Well, those were the times when Mama was spoiling my sister and me.
Things are different now and to tell you the truth, my understanding of glorious and happy breakfast and what I really do have became two different worlds.  Yes, my kids get the full treatment of Mama’s special breakfast and as you can imagine, having crepes for breakfast never fails.  But with the years I have became busier, stressed and rushed and most likely I will simply forget to eat till midday when I start shaking.
My morning is too occupied organising the day ahead for everybody in the house – kids go to school, husband goes to work and my endless chores.  And getting up at 5am doesn’t really make me looking forward to eat at all.  All I am craving for is a hit of nice coffee aroma from my espresso machine, which is my first pit stop in the early day routines.
Ah, an espresso with a thick and shiny crema – you can call this a morning orgasm with an Italian!

Then by 8am I remember that I have to take my high blood pressure medications.  Hop a handful of those little tablets just as per Dr Fischer’s orders.  Then top it up with another shot of strong Italian espresso as an antidote of all those blood pressure tablets goodness…
Yes, I have to force myself to have something early in the morning.  I usually enjoy spoiling my family with elaborate cooking for any time of the day, but for me I wouldn’t be bothered.  My lifesaver as a true Bulgarian is a good chunk of brined white sheep milk cheese that all over Australia is called and known as the Bulgarian Feta.  It actually is a so beloved ingredient that we have it as part of any kind of meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
There are countless recipe with this cheese, but today I will share the quick and ingenious toast, which will fill in your house with the most delightful smell to wake up to.  The smell of melted Bulgarian feta.  You might have noticed, but children in Bulgaria are brought up thinking and regarding any toast prepared under the grill as “princess” toast.  And this one particularly is known in the Toast Royal Family as the “Feta Princess”.

Now, before I roll back in my bed to sleep and lie around on my lazy long-weekend morning, let me share my easy-to-make, stressed-Mama-that-wouldn’t-be-bothered recipe.
Sliced continental bread (Pane di Casa)
Dried (out of brine for overnight) Bulgarian Feta
Preheat the grill on 150 degrees Celsius.
Lightly butter up the bread slices.  With a fine side of the grater grate some feta directly over the bread.  Place under the grill.  Grill till cheese melts and gets ever so slight golden colour.  Don’t over burn.
With the smell of melted feta and butter no one will resist this snack even if it is the Cinderella of the royal family of “princess” toasts!

My house is still quiet and sleeping and I think I’ll do the same – I am off to bed again.
Big hugs and kisses,
© 2015 - sophia terra~ziva.  all rights reserved

project “52”

20 January 2015

Welcome to my collection of personal project “52”.  If you want to visit some specific post, just click on the image you like.
Enjoy your browsing and thank you for stopping by!
WEEK 1/52 

WEEK 2/52

WEEK 3/52

WEEK 4/52
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WEEK 25/52
WEEK 26/52
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WEEK 30/52
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WEEK 33/52
© 2015 - sophia terra~ziva.  all rights reserved 


19 January 2015

No, nothing happened.
I said nothing happened.  Didn’t you hear me?
I’m tired to the death.
I suddenly couldn’t drive any more.  The car kept going off onto the shoulder, y’know?
Jesus, maybe he smashed up the car again!
But the funeral...  Ben, that funeral will be massive!  They’ll come from Maine, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire!  All the old-timers with the strange license plates — that boy will be thunderstruck, Ben, because he never realized — I am known!  Rhode Island, New York, New Jersey — I am known, Ben, and he’ll see it with his eyes once and for all.  He’ll see what I am, Ben!  He’s in for a shock, that boy!
... ... ...
Forgive me, dear.  I can’t cry.  I don’t know what it is, I can’t cry.  I don’t understand it.  Why did you ever do that?  Help me Willy, I can’t cry.  It seems to me that you’re just on another trip.  I keep expecting you.  Willy, dear, I can’t cry.  Why did you do it?  I search and search and I search, and I can’t understand it, Willy.  I made the last payment on the house today.  Today, dear.  And there’ll be nobody home.  We’re free and clear.  We’re free.  We’re free...  We’re free...
Death of Salesman
by Arthur Miller

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