Blackhawk Down soundtrack. If the numbers get to me, I’ll just play Gortoz a Ran J’Attends over and over.

Taos Tales, Robert Mirabel. He does the vocals, native flute, keyboard, bass, and sound effects. After a two-week, respite, I am returning to the taxes. I don’t like doing taxes. I would rather be in the garage, looking for the thing that died in there (more later) than doing taxes.

The concept was great: risotto shaped into balls, mozzarella cubes stuffed inside, fried till the rice is golden, and the cheese is melted.

Reasons why it didn’t work:
a) I had never made risotto before
b) It is hard to form risotto, which is generally wet
c) The risotto and my hands became one
d) The cheese escaped from the risotto balls when it encountered the hot oil
e) The oil itself became a murky soup of rice, liquified cheese, and overcooked brown things

But what survived was wonderful. We ate it standing in the kitchen, because there was so little. In more experienced hands, it would have been sublime. I’ve not tried it again.

I don’t like aprons. I have a few ‘frying’ shirts. But when it comes to spaghetti sauce, nothing helps. It bubbles all over the stove at times, and like a live thing, finds its way onto me, my shirt, shorts, socks. I’m good with chocolate, somehow manage to make ganache, cake, brownies, and hot cocoa with nary a splotch. Well, most of the time. My one and only truffle-making session ties with a try at suppli al telefono (risotto balls stuffed with cheese and fried) for being the worst kitchen mess.

It helps to know what to look and listen for.

The artists depict bones, organs, nerves, fat, and muscles in works that date from 2000 B.C. From the Met.

Trio II (Two), Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton. It works better than the Marsalis for the morning hours.

Wynton Marsalis, Concerto for Trumpet and Orchestra by Tomasi. I’m still looking for that ‘not too fast, not too slow, but stimulating’ early morning music.

It’s not quiet enough to hear the snails chewing their way through the flowers, but almost. Iron phosphate (Sluggo) is my weapon of choice.

All the sounds are muffled this morning, traffic whispers, no birds sing.