…but excited nonetheless!

Excited, that is, to introduce the first Comfort Brothers cookbook–hand held version–by way of an i-phone application and available for immediate purchase and use, directly from this site.  Now, in my world (see old guy references above) cookbooks, good ones, are expensive, heavy and you have to turn pages to find something.  So at $2.99 for all that Comfort Brothers goodness, I am, yes amazed.

Over the years, Bill and I have fielded numerous requests for recipes.  Unfortunately, most of ours are written on the walls of the inside of our heads and not on paper.  Well, they still aren’t on paper, but they are available to you and your friends who have an i-phone or i-pod touch.  Hey, you’ve got to start somewhere.

Click on the tab above or the App Store box to the right and follow the path to begin your own journey to fearless home cooking.  The recipes we included are our favorites to cook for ourselves and our families.  As such, they are simple to read, simple to follow and simple to prepare. Some long-held secrets in there as well.  And for fun we added a comforting “yummy” sound effect when you use the random feature.  Too cool.

A gift to our friends and fans, check it out and enjoy, and let us know what you think!

The role of Clarence, the guardian angel, was played to the hilt by Comfort Brother Bill, who made it happen by manning the Comfort Brothers kitchen solo, ably assisted by a serving chorus of Starnes children and cousins and the formidable presence of Michael Hamby, who scored the triple-double as sous chef, line cook and event photographer.  Hovering about as chief angel facilitator was Comfort Sister and CBB’s better half Tressa Hamby, who had held a “staff briefing” prior to the event and created a wonderful collage of 1959 events, culminating in the lead story of Jim’s birth on the 30^th of December.

Bill’s insistence on running the kitchen alone became clear as the evening unfolded.  The “surprise” element I thought I had avoided by “planning my own party” was as unavoidable as the transformation of George Bailey’s world without him in it.  I was to remain in the dining room to receive what was coming to me.  Before my eyes the words and talents of those in the room transformed the small, quiet gathering into the mega-type celebration to which many a semicentenarian is accustomed, and I had hoped to avoid.

Compellations flowed like the varieties of wine: red, white and sparkling, and tasted at once as tart and sweet as the cherry-mustard sauce for the duck.  Beginning with friend, confidante, teacher and student Don Cowles’ “Ode to a Wonderful Cynic” (my title), to neighbors and friends Ken and Suzanne Sullivan, to a moving poetic tribute from Jane Joel Knox, author, matriarch and the better half of a delightfully atypical son-in-law/mother-in-law relationship, to Vince’s epic and humorous emailed account (read by my daughter Emma) of my visit to Princeton as a football recruit, that revealed much about who I still am and established a lifetime friendship, these were NOT your typical “for-he’s-a-jolly-good-fellow” tributes.  They were as perfectly seasoned as Bill’s squid salad, sweet and salty, authentic and honest, no masking of the main ingredient.

After little brother Scott delivered Harry Bailey’s “richest man in town” speech (but longer and better), and puddles of tears had formed under the all the chairs in the room, I had had enough and was ready to seek relief from Mr. Martini.  But alas, as with Harry’s big brother George, such relief was not to be found, not yet.  There was my third daughter Jane and my fourth, my sister Wendy, serving more emotional cocktails, followed by the family Hamby, whose sweet and creamy tributes rivaled our chocolate pots de crème and included an appearance, through their words, by the too soon departed Patrick Hamby as a topper-off.

When “Happy Birthday” was whistled, yes whistled to me by dear friend Jane Cowles, the surreally and pleasantly cinematic nature of this event was secured.  And then Jan opened the door and let in the rest of the residents of my own personal Bedford Falls in the form of a book of printed emails.  Enter former players I have coached, high school and college pals, football and baseball teammates, including the “30 and Over Cardinals,” my parents: Luther and Joyce who birthed whatever talent and skill I am proposed to possess, and myriad other friends and acquaintances, some of whom I’d forgotten, and my oldest friend with whom I’ve had the most adventures, some sane, others not so much, all instructive and unforgettable, my brother Jeff.

Where to begin to thank everyone for contributing to the celebration of 50 years of me?  It is 12 days later and I’m just now waking up from the emotional hangover—too many “shots” of love, affection and appreciation.  I truly had no idea of the level of caring, and while I am not worthy of the honor I experienced (How could anyone be?), I’ll take it and tuck it away in my heart forever.

To “Mary,” I owe you the moon.  And lastly, “Atta-boy, Clarence.”

Think about it. As happy in a Caesar salad as it is on a hot dog, mustard “can dance with Kings and not lose the common touch.” Content to mingle with a pungent horseradish as much as with a sweet clover honey, what person tolerates differences like mustard? As a natural emulsifier, it brings things together like no other food. Whisk other ingredients into mustard and in seconds they find a home and are better together than they were alone.

Memo to U. N. ambassadors: Call your offices and take some lessons! Mustard is a vastly more productive unifier, and it doesn’t cost us as much…by a long shot!

Never tiresome, in both demeanor and appearance, mustard can be sweet, hot, spicy or mild and is comfortable wearing all colors. The ultimate team player, it has no problem being the star or taking a supporting role. Common, local, but at the same time worldly, mustard is multi-national, multi-cultural, multi-everything. Like some kind of strange international superhero, it speaks French, German, Italian, Indian, Spanish, English (the European and the American kind), Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Greek, Italian, all varieties of Mediterranean and African dialects and everything in between.

Everything mustard touches turns to gold–sometimes literally. Decidedly not a sissy, but not obnoxiously macho either; powerful at full strength, soft and subtle when playing with others, mustard leaves a place better than it was before it arrived.  Planted in vineyards to help even our wine taste good, when prepared it is welcomed with equal enthusiasm by cooked creatures of the land and the sea, as well as fruits and vegetables. Would that there were more people like that.

Often misunderstood, mustard exhibits a quiet reliability, providing endless comfort to its companion, the chef. Its history is rich, dating to the Romans; its life is long and it doesn’t go bad, particularly if you call upon it as often as you should. It’s an elegant sauce in a split second, and there is no food item it doesn’t get along with. Mustard is many things we all wish we could be, including a hero in the kitchen, where it can make the home chef look good, quickly and simply:

• Add a little soy sauce to it for a quick sauce that loves any meat or seafood.
• Stir it into some cherry preserves with a splash of balsamic vinegar and see what that does to a grilled duck breast.
• Whisk a little olive oil into it and brush it on a steak before you grill it.
• Use it to jazz up mayonnaise for cole slaw, potato salad, or any sandwich as an instant “special sauce.”

Powerful, yet sensitive to others, food’s version of the renaissance man, as comfortable at a White House dinner as at a trailer park barbeque, a loyal and faithful friend, recognized and loved around the world, reliable, flexible and comforting. Mustard has made the world a better place, and serves as an example for us all.  Happy Holidays.

Willing to take it on the road, the Comfort Brothers have been presented as a gift (a great idea at holiday time!) and delivered themselves to dining rooms from Virginia Beach to Washington D.C.

NOT YOUR MOTHER’S (OR GRANDMOTHER’S) CATERERS! While technically perhaps the Comfort Brothers are in the catering business, this is not your typical catered experience. As “part of the show,” the Comfort Brothers are NOT an invisible part of the landscape of your event. Whether there is a theme to your event or not (and if you need one, we’ll help you) the Comfort Brothers will cook, present and talk about the food throughout. We won’t tread entirely on you and your guests—there is work to be done in the kitchen after all—but a short story may be told or a well-placed, “tasteful” bit of humor may be served alongside a delicious course or two or four or more…

For parties of 2 to 24 (that’s right, 2, and how many caterers will take on that few?) another important difference between the Comfort Brothers and conventional caterers is, except in rare cases, we do not employ a staff. The principals (we) are the staff, keeping overhead low, accountability and quality high.

Products of proper upbringing, the Comfort Brothers believe in leaving a place cleaner than it was when we arrived. Enjoy yourself and retire when you need to. We’ll lock up when the cleanup is done.

The Comfort Brothers are busiest from January to March, time for you to relax, take a break from your own cooking, get together with friends you missed over “the holidays.” Call us today, schedule a date, and give yourself and your friends a gift you won’t pay for until next year.

Times are tough. Time to eat…and pass the wine!

So, the Comfort Brothers have devoted this space to compellations, for you and for us, when so compelled, compellate!