There are moments in life that although they last only a moment, stay with you forever and give you good reason to pursue them and the love and life they send flowing through veins and heart. A risotto made with a gentle broth of chicken bones and mushroom stems, carrot, celery, onion, garlic and thyme, slowly simmered for nearly two hours on the back of the stove, and then another onion minced and sauteed with a few whole cloves of garlic with only a slice of the knife to cut them in half, thyme, and olive oil, to bathe them until the melt, risotto poured in all at once, and in seconds, as soon as they begin to lose their milky white, a shower of wine, stirred until it evaporates into the air around the stove, and then ladle by ladle, stock, and more stock, a little salt, at the end the mushrooms, sauted and seasoned in their own pan before they meet the rice, and finally off the heat, a gentle fold of cheese and butter, and to the table it goes to be eaten before even a glass of wine can be drunk and if the risotto has been cooked with an attentive and open heart, it will hold you until the next time, suspended in the taste of woods, earth, and rays of sun that make their way through.