And if you’re a parent, you know that your children are always watching and listening. At times you wish you had been aware of that because you never know when they’ll remind you of something you said or did. Or you wish they’d finally learn a lesson you’ve been drilling them with since they were small. Well, when the boys were young and we’d pass a street musician playing for coins, good or dreadful, I always told Peter, Patrick and Michael to never pass by without tossing something, even a nickle, into the hat or open guitar case. My lesson was simple. They aren’t beggars, woeful as they might sound, at least they are trying. Years later at the funeral home, as friends, family and kids from Appalachian State filed past us to offer their condolences, a friend of Patrick’s I’d never met squared up in front of me and said, “You know Mr. Hamby, Pat always told us to never pass a street musician without giving them something. I always do it now.” Later another said the same thing. Maybe a small moment, but I realized I’d passed on something that he passed on. He had taken my advice. He had been listening. So now when I toss a coin into the hat, he’s throwing something in with me. Like the rain puddles, Patrick is by my side.

About a year after his death I found myself in a park in Portland, Oregon, smoking a cigar, killing time before going to the airport. Ten yards away, a guy sat down on a bench and unpacked a trumpet and set up a music stand. The fact he had a beanie hat on with a propeller only enhanced the scene and held out the promise for something special. Of course I was remembering Patrick and of course I would drop something in his case before I left. And then he started playing. He was god awful. But there was something endearing about his effort, his earnestness alone was entertaining. Pat would have loved it. Needless to say, but the few people who passed his way neglected to ante up; indeed some strollers purposefully vectored away from the caterwauling. His horn case held nary a penny. And when it was time for me to leave I pulled a ten dollar bill out of my pocket and wrote, Thanks. Patrick Hamby. I don’t know if it made his day or not, but it brightened mine.

Patrick was learning to be a pretty good cook. He had aspirations to attend cooking school because after a semester at Happy Appy, while he enjoyed his friends, he wasn’t happy with college and college wasn’t happy with him. The last time I heard his voice was a week or so before his accident. He called me while he was preparing dinner for his apartment mates in Boone, North Carolina, and he was irritated becuse his buddies were smoking in the kitchen while he was cooking. He said, “Da, what do I tell these guys?” I said, “Pat, tell them they are disrespecting the food and the chef as well.” I was trying to help out, pass something along, like the importance of grating fresh nutmeg into creamed spinach, a dish I taught him how to prepare, and one he loved. He just thought it was a neat thing to know about. And every damn time I pull that grater out from the spice cabinet I think of that special boy I miss so much. But I know he’s right there with me.

There. I’ve finally written something. Maybe I’ll do it again. Lucky are the ones who knew him. I wish you all had.

Have any other lamb lovers out there noticed that the distinctive taste of lamb has been devolving lately from that slightly gamy flavor to an almost bland to nothingness even when perfectly cooked? I’ve had several close encounters with lamb this Spring and have been disappointed each time and don’t know whether it’s my source, tastebuds, or something more sinister at work akin to what pork producers have been doing by breeding the flavor (fat) out of pigs. Last week I roasted a rack that was on special at my local Fresh Market ($11.99/Lb) for Mrs. Comfort Brother and myself and nailed a spot on medium rare. I mean it looked great on the plate but tasted definitely un-lamby. Bad for Hamby! Next up, lamb sausage on the grill at Peter Hamby’s crib in D.C. as fare for a NCAA Semi’s throw down. Result: Same as the rack. These came from Whole Foods. Then on Easter Sunday dinner at the Brian Connolly’s my sister-in-law Gerri grilled a marinated, butterflied leg just right. It was very good, and pretty, but lacking the characteristic flavor I craved. Admittedly I haven’t done enough research yet to come to any conclusionson on this thorny issue. I’m hoping I can source lamb that tastes the way I remember it. I’ll report back, but, I’m happy for your thoughts on the subject. Bring them on!

CB I-Phone App       

The Caulk Brothers at Modal Inc., the very wizards who created this cool site as well as an easy to navigate version for your smart phone, are at this moment deep into the design phase for a CB I-Phone App. Way cool. It means that in the not too distant future you’ll have 60 Comfort Brothers recipes to hold in your hand. Stumped for an appetizer, breakfast, lunch, brunch, dinner or late night recipe? Turn to your I-Phone or I-Pad. It’s all there: Ingredients and Directions, fun and simple and pretty to look at. No more running to the computer and back to the kitchen for inspiration. Stand by for more news on this.

CB Swag 

Here’s a shamless plug for the first items available soon in the Comfort Brother store. In his other life CB Jim was a hat wear executive and has employed those skills in creating a cool CB baseball hat in a couple of different colors and an apron. Keep checking in here as we inaugurate the CB online store.

Tony Bourdain

If you missed Monday’s No Reservations on Basic Kitchen Techniques, be sure to catch the re run. (The Travel Channel repeats them endlessly) It’s nice to see Tony back in the kitchen at Les Halles in his whites actually cooking while being snarky as opposed to wandering the planet being snarky. He makes a simple to prepare beef bourguignon. And among others, Jacques Pepin whips up an omelet and Thomas Keller roasts the perfect chicken. There’s also some talk about knife skills, the perfect steak and and rustic pasta. And mercifully, Tony doesn’t shill on camera for one of his sponsors, the CHASE Sapphire Card, a recent troubling and  “revoltin’ development” in the series as Ralph Cramden would say. But snark aside, the boy can cook. Check it out.

Good Writing

Finally, my friend and restaurant critic John Haddad has an excellent review of the Richmond, Virginia restaurant Six Burner in this week’s STYLE Weekly. John knows food and is an excellent writer. The CB’s prize that ability. 

Enjoy the Spring.

Out.

The Chief Conspirator In Residence, Mrs. Jeanne Oostdyk, had recruited the CBs earlier in the month leading to covert E mails and calls and one final planning meeting to propose the final menu. (The CBs, having done a few of these surprise gigs are getting pretty crafty at being sneaky.) Old friends Bob and Victoria Holly made the trip from New Jersey, Jeff and Kathy Idler parachuted in from Philadelphia and were joined by Scott’s brother Dale and wife Paige along with CBJ’s wife Jan. You can always tell when authentic old friends unite because the interrupted conversations of years before are restarted with such ease, it is as if they had all been together the day before. Wine of course was involved at this stage of the gathering and that can quicken the alchemy of a reunion like this.

CBJ, as noted on these pages previously, is pathologically incapable of not creating a theme around a CB dinner. And in this case, as he has known Scott since college, was able to map out his life through the menu. And although we always collaborate on our cooking gigs, I’ll give a full tip of the toque to CBJ on this one as executive chef. Here’s the menu:

A LIFE BEGINS – When he was a Baby: Miniature Crabcakes topped with Poached Quail Eggs, Caviar and Old Bay Hollandaise

GREEN IN JUDGMENT, COLD IN BLOOD – His Salad (Days) of Spring Awakenings: New Potatoes, Hearts of Palm, Asparagus Tips and Red Grapes over Spring Greens with Champagne and Grape Leaf Vinaigrette

INTERMEZZO -A Spicy Kiss (Jeanne) Cleansed his Palate and Sharpened his Focus: Lemon Sorbet with Creme de Menthe and a Kiss of Mint.

THE HEART OF THE MATTER – What Feeds His Soul (Family) and Sticks to his Rib(eye)s: Prime Bone-In Ribeye Steak with Sauteed Mushrooms, Gorgonzola Polanta and Mixed Baby Vegetables

THE JUST REWARDS – Well-Earned Bread (Pudding); the Fruits of his Labor: White and Dark Chocolate Croissant Bread Pudding/Mixed Berry Garni

As a chef I have to say that the crab dish that CBJ came up with is awesome. The tedious stage are the quail eggs. They have tough shells and a fairly thick membrane, so delivering an unbroken yolk to the poaching liquid was a bit of an adventure. This dish killed.

Also, the ribeyes were spectacular pieces of meat. We had the butcher “French” the bone for a prettier presentation, then sliced them perpendicular to the bone and fanned each steak over the polenta. Birthday Boy showed a bit of amazement when his Flintstone sized beef was served Pittsburgh Style. Apparently Scott didn’t think his grill out back could crank enough heat for the proper char. I was able to get it really fired up, so with the combination of super high heat, closed lid and beautifully marbled fat dripping into the flame, well just let me say, we were fired up! There were clean plates all around, and in our business, it doesn’t get any better than that.

So happy birthday Scott, nice going Jeanne and thanks to all Scott and Jim’s friends and family for doing your part and for letting me in on the action. Oh, Scott, you look great in that new Comfort Brother ball cap, but not quite as fetching as your bride in her CB apron!

But the football gods as well as the dining crowd, not to mention the Super Bowl advertisers, seemed to want a more interesting contest.  As Sean Payton was contemplating starting the 2nd half with an onside kick, our guests were contemplating stepping into unfamiliar food territory as well.  Perhaps related to the “loosening up” provided by Comfort Daughter Anna’s Hurricane Punch, the diners’ strategy changed from “What’s this?,” and “What’s that?,” into “I’ll try this,” and “Oh, let me get some of that.”  Whatever the reason, the Gumbo pot was undisturbed no longer and the muffaletta and po-boys began to move as quickly as the Saints offense.

Just as Tracy Porter’s pick-six interception ended the run for the Colts and took the game over for the Saints, the ribs and hush puppies gave way completely to the spicier and more interesting N’awlins fare.  As a good deal of America was proud of the Saints and their accomplishment, I was proud of our Richmond, Virginia guests–not normally noted for embracing new and different–for diving into spicy Italian coldcuts laced with olive salad (What?), and chunks of andouille sausage mixed in with their beloved crabmeat in the gumbo.

In the final analysis, though the Saints and their food were the winners of the day, still there was nary a corn dog or rib left to be had, symbolic of the staying power of Manning and the Colts who will certainly rise again.  The game and the menu were both big hits and as they were eating theirs, all declared it was indeed a Super Sundae. New Orleans, and its food, found a home with many new fans and, thankfully for me, now has something other than Katrina to talk about.

Gobs of Gulf Gumbo for Garcon: Saints fans hope the Indy wide receiver gets as healthy a dose of New Orleans as what’s in this classic favorite.  We’ll start with a roux and load it up with shrimp, lump crabmeat, crawfish tails, okra and andouille sausage.

Indiana Wants Me, Lord I Can’t Go Back Ribs: Anything pork works for Indy, so CBL, aka Sweet Lew, put this in the starting lineup, and why not?  The Colts hope to barbeque Brees and Bush and if Manning’s ribs keep from getting bruised, he’ll go back to Indy with another title.  We’ll “bruise” ours with charcoal and hickory and dress ‘em with CBJ’s Lefty’s Best Barbeque Sauce.

Hush Peyton Puppies: We honor Indy with these corny delights, they go with ribs and kids love ‘em.  But at the same time we use ‘em to bust on Manning.  Great player, but he talks too much.  Shut up and eat!

Hoosier Daddy Corndogs: Right out of the Indiana State Fair, pork wrapped in corn.  Another good one for the kids but an adult or two will sneak one too.  ”Hoo” will own this dish and this game?  Peyton’s daddy Archie was a Saint.  Doo-doo-doo-doo, Doo-doo-doo-doo…

A Muffalotta Offense:  We expect “alotta” offense in this one so we need an awful lotta Muffaletta (in N’awlins they pronounce it moof-a-lotta).  The classic New Orleans Italian cold cut super sandwich is a must have if you go to the Crescent City, and a must have on this menu.  Slices of Cappicola and Prosciutto ham, Genoa salami, Mortadella, Pepperoni, Provolone and Mozzarella on a round Italian loaf slathered with olive salad and cut into wedges.  CBJ’s favorite N’awlins food and the real reason he wanted the Saints in this one.

N.O. No Longer Po-Boys: Just by making it to the Super Bowl the Saints, no longer the “Ain’ts,” their fans, their city, and especially their players, coaches and owners, are no longer poor! In honor of how far they’ve come we honor one of their greatest creations, a pre-depression-era sandwich handed out to striking transit workers by a supportive local restaurant. The sandwich, like the Saints, is no longer cheap and ours are filled with fried oysters and BBQ shrimp.

CBB’s Black and Gold Beans:  Gotta have beans with ribs and CBB’s Black to match the Saints ones are the perfect accompaniment.  He’ll add some “gold” with some golden-browned treat that’s a game-time decision on a need-to-know-basis.

Cajun-Covered Austin Collie-Flower Salad:  CBJB, aka Jaybird, came strong with the suggestion of “Austin Collie-flower” so since we’re light on the “salad” portion of our meal, this will work.  Wide receiver Austin Collie, rookie hero of the playoffs (Playoffs?) for the Colts gets a chance to see how he stands up on the big stage.  We’re going to cover our Collie-flower with corn (to make him feel at home) but kicked up with a Bourbon Street confetti of peppers, onions seasonings to see how he can hang with the big dogs.

Sweet Endings: Without a team to call my own (whither the Baltimore Colts) I always root for Offense and Overtime.  A high scoring affair with a who gets the ball last, down to the last second ending is sweet to me.  Here’s what we’ll have as we finish strong…

Does Coach Caldwell Have Popcorn Balls:  The Colts refused to play for the perfect season by backing off once they were in the playoff driver’s seat.  We’ll see if caution bites them back.  CSS (Comfort Sister Susanne) provides this treat as we see the results.

Bourbon (Street) Banana Who Won the Bread Pudding:  Bananas Foster is the classic New Orleans dessert.  CBJ adapts it to his famous bread pudding further paying homage by using Croissants for bread.  We’ll enjoy this as we learn who wins the game and the score by quarters pool.

Make Your Own Super Sundae:  Super Sunday is as fun as you make it.  So it is with the Super Sundaes.  As with the spectre of a world championship, it’s there for the taking.  Go for it.

Have fun and stay tuned for the post-game recap.

Only a higher power, no doubt contemplating his or her Super Bowl menu, could have caused a team like the Vikings to fumble six times, losing three, and caused Brett Favre to throw two picks (he threw only 7 all year), one critical. And who do you think was the 12^th man in the huddle (Who gets that penalty in that situation?) that cost the Vikings a game winning field goal at the end of regulation?  I saw the replay, and there was St. Jude (patron of impossible causes) dressed in a Viking uniform standing in the back of their huddle.  No kidding!

Since the conclusion of Sunday’s games, the Comfort Brothers research department has been painstakingly seeking “classic” Indiana cuisine for the food duel that is the most important aspect of Super Sunday.  Comfort Brothers Nation, including nearly 400 Facebook fans, and nearly 15,000 visitors to this site, has discovered, sadly, what we already knew about Indiana cuisine: it ain’t much.

Thanks to all in the Nation who weighed in, and we’re still taking suggestions by the way.  Here a few of our favorite findings:

Jenet says: Aw, let ‘em eat cake.  King Cake!

Dabney says:  Whatever Artie Donovan would have requested.

Dean says:  Corn dogs?  Pork chop on a stick?  Corn on the cob?

Susan says:  My son is at an army base near Indianapolis and he thinks they have “really good fake crab salad.”  Does that help you?  (I’m sure I’ll offend someone from Indiana – sorry.)

Shannon (our personal favorite) says:  Breaded pork tenderloin sandwich—they have them everywhere and everyone claims theirs is the best.  Pork itself is huge.  I saw “Pork Three Ways” on a couple of different menus.  And, corn.  [Insert Forrest Gump voice here] Corn pie, corn cakes, corn casserole, corn puppies (corn in hush puppies basically) corn fritters…

Finally, Dabney added: NOLA food…bettuh. And he’s right.  So the early money’s on the New Orleans side of the Super Bowl battle of the food.  From Cajun to creole, with French, Italian and southern influences, from the Gulf to the swamps, it’s nearly impossible to compete with New Orleans in this one.  But, while the teams themselves are stuck with the players on their rosters, we’re fearless in the kitchen and can make what we want, as long as it relates in some way to the theme of the day.  And there are many ways around a bad team cuisine:

We can go “venue,” for example, using Miami in this case, and do something with palm tree hearts, gator-bites, or an orange bowl of punch.

We can go with a generic theme and serve A Super Bowl of Salsa.

We can stretch it, taking off on Sweet Lew’s suggestion, by serving, “We- were-once-from-Baltimore Crabcakes.”

Much more challenging to stick with the teams, and not giving up on Indiana, here are the rosters we’re working with:

New Orleans:  Gumbo, Jambalaya, Super-Size Muffaletta, No-longer-Po-boys of Fried Oysters and BBQ Shrimp, Bourbon Bananas Foster Bread Pudding

Indianapolis:  Hoosier Daddy Turkey-Corn Chowder, State Fair Corn Dogs, Breaded Pork w/ Fried Cabbage Slaw(ter), Manning Corny Commercial Hush-Pups, Hoosier Mama Sugar Pie

Snacks & Drinks:  Pickled Irsay (Okra),  Super Salsa Bowl & Home Cooked Chips, Pat O’s Hurricane Punch

We’ve got the off-week to prepare starting lineups and finalize game plans.  Stay tuned for Super Bowl Food Part III: Game Day.

The Comfort Brothers, virtually (not politically) correct in their views 99.9% of the time, recognize each of these areas of interest and appreciate them all:  the commercials can be interesting and entertaining; the halftime show, not-so-much, but an erstwhile superstar may make news by forgetting their lyrics or an article of clothing, or dying on stage, and we want to be up-to-date in all things cultural, LOL:), OMG, etc.; and finally as former players, officials and coaches, we want to see a good football game.

Above all these things, however, stands the most important aspect of the Super Bowl tradition, as with any other important religious celebrations like Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Passover, Yom Kippur and Ramadan, whether absent or abundant, it’s the FOOD that is the FOCUS!  Amen!  Passover me some grub!

Which is why, each year at this time, we look at the four teams left in the playoffs and decide who to root for based on the menu we want for Super Sunday.  This year is an easy one and the Comfort Brothers picks for this weekend’s games are:  The New Orleans Saints and the New York Jets.

Considering the alternatives, Minnesota and Indianapolis, no offense, but these are localities without a cuisine.  No offense again, but when they first started “flying over” the Midwest states, not a hint of a cuisine fell off the wagon.  So what are we left with?

Minnesota Foods:  Wild rice (because the native Americans introduced it to the great white, really white, settlers), Blueberries (same deal), and anything from that mouthwatering of all international cuisines: Scandinavian.  The “land of 10,000 lakes” really is where the Vikings ended up, gracing the region’s culinary coffers with an assortment of anything, mostly fish, smoked or pickled.  Lastly, I almost forgot: Yumpin’ Yiminy, Swedish Meatballs!

Now, can we make something of this?  You bet, and I’d probably stick with focusing on the Vikings theme with some smoked turkey drumsticks, maybe some smoked lake trout, a wild rice salad and a “Black and Blue” (for the NFC North division) Berry pie or something as the contribution from the Great White NFC North.

Indianapolis, on the other hand, is dismal.  State Fair corndogs and fried dough, for God’s sake.  Indy prides itself on its “diverse” cultural influences, meaning it doesn’t have any.  Google it up and you’ll see.  Indianans don’t even know what their cuisine is.  Some actual quotations:

“Don’t know, but we Hoosiers sure like steak and potatoes!”

“Not really sure, but I do like our breaded pork tenderloin, with ketchiup, mustard and mayonnaise.”

“I moved to Indy about 9 years ago from the East Coast and there are a few things here that I had never heard of: Breaded pork tenderloin, Beef and noodles, Chicken and noodles, Biscuits and gravy, And there are also a lot of really good steak houses, BTW – GO COLTS!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Really? Biscuits and gravy and a chicken-fried piece of pork loin?  With a corn dog on the side and fried dough for dessert?  OMGIIFH (Oh my God, I’m in food hell.) BTW – GO JETS!!!!!!!!!

Jets vs. Saints and we’re in good shape.  N’awlins gives us the oyster po’boy, the muffaletta, gumbo of any number of varieties, crawfish, shrimp, okra, rice and beans, Cajun, French, Old South and everything in between.  And their favorite holiday is about getting FAT!  What could be better?  New York provides as many can’t miss possibilities.  We’ve got New York Strip or if that’s too heavy make it New York Deli, but don’t scimp on the meat, breads, chopped liver, and half-sour pickles.  Manhattan clam chowder can also come to play along with anything “apple,” like say a “big apple” cheesecake with “they got creamed” caramel sauce to top off the meal.  Now that’s a party.

So do what’s right, for your food health and happiness and start rootin’ for the Jets and Saints.  And stay tuned for Super Bowl Food Part II: Makin’ it Happen on Super Sunday…

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.”

And the aforementioned crew rocked the night. All the food got plated and out on time, all the places cleared swiftly and with grace. And like any good kitchen crew we yukked it up and had our share of fun with some of the guests behind their back. (Good clean fun…) I don’t recall a snafu with the exception of yours truly inflicting a small cut to my hand, the unfortunate result of putting away my French knife, (I know. Everyone calls them chef’s knives now, but when I was learning the ropes in a dingy casino kitchen in Lake Tahoe in 1969, we called a French knife.) slightly impaired after a toast or two or three to Lefty. My crew killed.

The main event of the evening was the duck breast over wild mushroom risotto with Brussel sprouts. This was where the timing became critical. Since we were serving 30, and the duck needed to be hot and not over cooked, as did the sprouts; and as the risotto takes about 24 minutes and has to be married to the bird and the greens in terms of doneness and heat, we had to be on our toes. And this is where Michael Hamby stepped up big time. In addition to running and clearing food and acting as the official photographer for the bash, he joined me at helm of Lefty’s Viking six-top to prepare the risotto. It needed to go out precisely at the right time and be perfect.

As parents, sooner or later you figure out that your children have been watching and listening to you since they came to your house. They pick up the good stuff and, ahem, some of the other stuff, and when some of the other stuff catches you off guard, usually as teenagers, you realize, whoops, what else did I inadvertently teach them? Well, in our house, my boys, all three of them, grew up watching me cook like I watched my dad. They all developed an interest in food and cooking and continue to grow their skills. Indeed, the calls from Peter in D.C. and Michael at school in Vermont, when it is an issue like a bad fever, those go to mom. The calls to dad are along the lines of, “Hey Da, I’m in the grocery store and I can’t find Chipotles, is there something else I can use?” Or, “Can you ask Jim how long and what heat I need to cook this pork shoulder for the barbecue?” A hard but gradually less painful memory is the last phone call I ever got from my sweet son Patrick. He was in his apartment kitchen in Boone, N.C. cooking for his mates who were smoking in the kitchen. This irritated him. He said, “Dad, I told then they were disrespecting the food. I’m right aren’t I? I said, Paddy Wagon, show em the door.”   

So there we were, a big pot of simmering chicken stock between us, each with a sauce pan of rice, gradually adding ladle after ladle until it was about five minutes from complete. When Lefty came into the kitchen having doffed his white dinner jacket and and began to finish and slice the duck, (The sprouts just needed lemon and salt at this point and were warm.) Mike and I added the mushrooms, grated Assagio cheese, butter and a little cream. Then the parade of plates began. They flew from our station to the sprouts, then the duck slices were carefully draped over the risotto, and Lefty’s signature cherry sauce was drizzled in laces around it all. And the runners ran. There was a lot of love and legacy amid all the action. More than 50 year’s worth.

The dish is rich but simple and perfect for this damn cold weather, whether it’s your birthday or not.

Sliced Duck Breast over Wild Mushroom Risotto with Brussel Sprouts (Serves 4)

2 duck breasts, 1 cup Arborio rice, 12 Brussel sprouts, trimmed, assorted mushrooms, sliced, 1/3 onion, chopped, 1/2 cup grated Assagio cheese, 1/4 cup cream, 1 quart chicken stock, 1 lemon, 2 tbls unsalted butter.

Cherry Sauce Ala Lefty: Cherry preserves, dried sour cherries, whole grain mustard, balsamic vinegar, chicken broth. Combine jar of preserves, package of cherries, 1 tbls mustard, 2 tbls vinegar and 1/4 cup broth in a sauce pan over low heat and gently reduce until almost syrupy. Keep warm.

Mushrooms: Saute mushrooms in a saute pan in butter and some salt until softened. Set aside. 

Pre-heat over to 400 Degrees

Boiling, salted water for sprouts

Duck: Score the fat side of each breast in a criscross pattern; brown each breast in a medium hot skillet, fat side down; when nicely browned, remove from skillet and set aside.

Risotto:  Saute chopped onion in some hot olive oil until translucent, then add rice and stir to coat; on medium heat begin adding warm stock to just cover rice and stir. (Myth buster: You don’t have to constantly stir. As the rice is absorbed by the rice, just add more stock and stir. Just be careful not to let it dry out and burn.) This dish will take almost exactly 24 minutes.

While keeping an eye on the risotto, place the duck breasts on a sheet pan with an edge (Or if you browned them in a heavy skillet, just put the skillet in the over. Make sure you’ve poured off the duck fat first.) 12 minutes should render you pink, moist duck. After 12 minutes, remove from oven and let rest at least 5-10 minutes before carving.

Sprouts: Boil then in salted water until they can be pierced by a paring knife; drain, return to pot with 2 tbls butter, salt; toss to coat. Cover and set aside. Just before serving spritz with lemon.

Taste the risotto at about the 20 minute mark. It should not be hard, or mushy, but with some resistance to the tooth.  (If it needs to cook some more and you are out of stock, use water.) At that point lower heat and add the mushrooms and stir. Then add the cheese, butter and cream. Stir and add some chopped Italian parsley. 

Slice each duck breast in 1/4 inch slices. Place a portion of risotto in the middle of each plate; drape half duck breast over the rice. On the opposing side add 4-5 sprouts, then drizzle Lefty’s cherry sauce around the edges.

Get down.