I’ve just finished reading ‘Julie and Julia’, an entertaining account of Julie Powell’s year spent cooking her way through Julia Child’s 1961 ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking’, the book which famously opened the American public’s eyes to the art and style of classic French cuisine.

Julie Powell keeps things light, perhaps too light, but I was touched by the sudden note of seriousness which underlies her explanation of what got her hooked on this project in the first place. Flicking through her mother’s copy of ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking’, Julie P was fascinated by the complexity and seriousness of the instructions, with their drawings and pages of detailed description. It was a glimpse of a world where craft and dedication would teach you lots of things. ‘I felt like I’d at last found something important’, she writes. ‘It wasn’t the food exactly. If you looked hard enough, the food started to feel almost beside the point. No, there was something deeper here, some code within the words, perhaps some secret embedded in the paper itself.’ Very much how I feel about the musical scores which are the ‘recipes’ for playing music.

This month the Florestan Trio’s new disc is out on Hyperion Records. It’s a CD of three marvellous Czech piano trios by Smetana, Martinu and Petr Eben.

It was a particularly arduous disc to record because all three works – though particularly the Smetana and Martinu – require a lot of physical stamina. In concert, short bursts of physical prowess are somehow within one’s grasp; under recording conditions, where you have to play things over and over again without any lapse of intensity, it’s hard to keep up the required energy levels. Nevertheless I think we all feel proud of the way this disc has turned out.

Many thanks to everyone who gave me feedback after my request for same on this blog’s first anniversary.

In the fevered run-up to this Thursday’s UK General Election, and with political rhetoric ringing in my ears, I’m happy to announce that I have been re-elected leader of this blog, with a mandate which clearly shows that the electorate is satisfied with my policies. Sustained by Bob’s cooking, I will do my best to live up to your expectations as we go forward. And now please remind me to switch off my radio mike.

I played a concert this week and noticed that my page-turner, sitting beside me at the piano, was holding what looked like a generous square of fudge in her left hand. As a fudge fan myself, I didn’t find it hard to imagine why one would wish to have a square of fudge on stage, but she seemed to be holding it with unusual care. Eventually I allowed myself to ask what it was.

‘It’s a square of wet sponge’, she explained. Not cake sponge, you understand, but the kind of sponge you clean the kitchen with. ‘ I got the idea from watching bank staff counting out notes. They use a pad of something wet to moisten their fingertips so they can easily leaf through  notes without getting two at once. I hold the sponge like this, moisten the fingertips of my right hand on it, and then lean forward and turn the page. It helps me not to distract the pianist by fumbling with the pages right in front of their line of vision.’ What a brilliant idea! And it worked like a charm.

A kind person at International Piano magazine has sent me, without comment, a copy of the May/June issue. It turns out to have a survey of recordings of Haydn’s ‘Gypsy Rondo’ piano trio. ‘The Florestan Trio … displays uncommon musical intelligence while refusing to allow any hint of sentimentality of any over-indulgence in the finale. This recording has a fundamental feeling of ‘rightness’ that makes it the most likely challenger to the Beaux Arts Trio as the purist’s choice’, writes David Threasher. And there’s a nice big photo of us as well.

Finishing his survey with a summary of his favourite five recordings, the reviewer recommends ‘the Florestan Trio ‘for the marriage of intelligence and athleticism in its performance…  and they take authenticity to the extent of having a young lady pianist.’ Poetic licence in that adjective, I’m afraid, Mr Threasher, but thank you!