A tutorial.

Muddled.

That is what happens when one tries writing about something of which you are in the midst. The theory is that you are yet so close to the experience that, like an impressionist's painting, all you detect are dabs and dots of colors that make no sense. Months, years, decades later perhaps you will stand back and reflect and try to make sense of the event or its series, if there is even sense to be made about the whole thing. And so after all that time you will have that, at least. Sense.

So then, I have decided to share my method of buttermilk biscuits to avoid rummaging around with words like death and legacy, both of which have monopolized my mind quite enough this week.

Step one: Gather your ingredients. It is simple, really: you need 1/2 cup of unsalted butter, 2 1/4 cups self-rising flour, and 1 1/2 cups of buttermilk.

Step two: Cube the butter. Make sure it is right out of the fridge, as this is an important element to the method.

Step three: Put the self-rising flour in a bowl and the cubed butter in with it. Use your hands to cut the butter into the flour until it looks coarse. Almost like cornmeal, but not as granulated.

Step four: Put butter and flour mixture into the fridge for ten minutes, make sure oven is 450 degrees Fahrenheit.

Step five: Take out of fridge. Incorporate buttermilk and flour mix together with a wooden spoon. Only mix until all ingredients are wet.

Step six: Pour lumpy mess onto a well-floured surface. Immediately begin a 3-part envelope fold, alternately horizontal and vertical folds. Do this 6 times at the most. Make a square shape with dough and leave it at around 3/4 of an inch thick.

Step seven: Cut out biscuit shapes with a 2-3 inch diameter and place closely together on a lightly-greased cookie sheet.

Step eight: Put into oven for 14 minutes. Take out, brush with melted butter. Enjoy.

There, you see? Hot topic, cold prose.

For seven minutes I avoid thinking about Jim's death, the notes of affirmation we found in his stack of stuff, Erickson's developmental stages, and the dull sadness that seeps into a life without active creativity.

The biscuits are really very good.