This week, we bow down to baked goods. We also welcome Guest Gulletier Felicia Fitzpatrick to the table.
Scone Abroad
by Felicia Fitzpatrick1
Tossing my scarf behind my shoulder to catch the wind, I dramatically sashayed into the front doors of the Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel just outside of Dublin, Ireland. I whipped off my sunglasses and marched up to the check-in desk, my mom following just behind, giggling at my all-too-familiar antics.
My mom and I are a Gilmore Girls-esque pair, having been a single mom-only daughter unit for most of our lives. Though she wasn’t a teen mom like Lorelai (quite the opposite, as she was thirty-seven years old when she had me), it was us against the world, a fact that has always made me feel safe, secure, and protected. She had been talking about traveling to Ireland since I was a kid, and I, being a child of the Spice Girls and The Parent Trap generation, had desperately desired to visit London. For years, a trip across the pond was just a dream, until my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2021. Once she was in remission, she banished any more excuses and booked two tickets to Heathrow Airport, where we would begin our journey before our second stop in Ireland.
“Last name on the reservation?” the check-in clerk asked.
I waited the appropriate beat before my next line to drum up anticipation. I have a B.A. in Theatre and Dance, after all.
“Fitzpatrick; of the Plano, Texas Fitzpatricks!”
Shock and delight blossomed on her face. Even her colleague looked up from the next desk over, amused.
“Well, let’s get you checked in, Ms. Fitzpatrick,” she said. Now, I would have preferred Duchess Fitzpatrick, but since I didn’t actually know if I was related to these Fitzpatricks, I allowed such an informal title.
Our check-in friends said our suite (which, we did not book, and I have reason to believe they upgraded us because of the last name connection) still needed to be cleaned, and invited us out onto The Terrace, the patio cafe, to wait. It was a sunny, warm September day, and so we moseyed outside to grab some snacks. We love food, so we didn’t need a lot of convincing to pass the time by eating. I never would’ve imagined that what awaited us was better than if I really was related to royalty.
Scones.
Warm, buttery, downright sinful-tasting scones.
They had just the right texture, soft and flaky, paired with an Irish clotted cream that was so silky, so smooth, and the perfect amount of sweetness. Each bite tasted better than the last, closing my eyes as I let them melt across my tongue so I could deeply savor the light and sweet flavors.
As we sat out on The Terrace, soaking in the sunshine, chatting over scones and coffee, it felt like a victory meal.
When my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, it felt like my world was on the brink of collapse. She has been my compass. Her spirit, spunk, and strength inspire and impress me more and more as I grow older. Her warm, friendly demeanor and Texas drawl has her making friends everywhere we go. Her wisdom has made her a best friend I always turn to for counsel. She is the one person in this world who I know loves me unconditionally.
As I morbidly thought through the worst-case scenario because I’m an overthinking, anxious Virgo moon, I realized one of my favorite treasured traditions with her is just talking about anything and everything over a shared meal. With food betwixt us, we’ve talked about career, politics, love found and love lost, pop culture, and theories about the meaning of life. Like when I recapped a story of being ignored by a male coworker during a meeting at work, and she shared a parallel experience that she had 40 years earlier. Or reflecting on her own story of college heartbreak while I was experiencing my own. All of those moments brought us closer together, and I will cherish them forever.
Even during the months we lived together during her treatment, food anchored us—from making meals together to her teaching me family recipes. So to be blissfully eating my new favorite pastry during our long-dreamt trip with my mom, happy and healthy was simply priceless.
I’ve had plenty of scones since that trip, searching American tea houses and even making my own. While they are all tasty, nothing will compare to those scones at the Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel that marked a new chapter for us and filled me with the deepest sense of gratitude.
Name drops: Fitzpatrick Castle Hotel
Crowning Myself Queen
by Kitty
Growing up in the nineties, I was marketed the notion of a girl-on-the-go. The glossy pages of Teen Vogue and CosmoGirl convinced me to keep an eyeliner and a statement necklace on my person at all times in the event I’d have to take a look from day to night. I was convinced that people with places to be had to pay for convenience. This was particularly evident in my family’s cupboards—a treasure trove of Carnation Instant Breakfast, boxed mashed potatoes, and the object of my teen desires, apple crisp kits. These kits exist vividly in my mind but seem to have been wiped from shelves (and the internet). They utilized some sort of canned apple pie filling and a “just add butter” bag of crumbles. I’d pop one in the oven after school and devour the whole tray in one sitting.
It wasn’t until I moved out for college and started strutting down the aisles of my local Shaw’s that I realized most of these one-and-done boxed solutions were gimmicks. Sure, a box of Hungry Jack boasts a long shelf life, but if I’ve got to haul ass for a gallon of milk, I might as well grab a bag of real-life russets while I’m at it. The same goes for apples in my beloved dessert. The dry ingredients don't need a premade mix—they’re just standard baking items that are probably stocked in your pantry already!
Over the years, I’ve perfected the art of making fresh apple crisp. The second a cool morning breeze dislodges a wilting leaf from a maple, I’m itching to take advantage of the season’s crop. The fall get-together that I’d been invited to was the perfect excuse to slap on a pair of overalls and head to the orchard. Barden Family Orchard to be exact. I had driven by plenty of times but never paid a visit. The apple cider slushies they had on tap caught my eye, but I was there for one thing, and one thing only—a half peck of Honeycrisp.
For this particular batch of crisp I added extra oats to the mix, along with a bourbon-flavored vanilla extract that I’d picked up from Trader Joe’s. I prefer the ratio of apples to crumble to be somewhere around one to one, that way guests late to the party aren’t left with a heaping slop of steamy applesauce.
On the way to Providence, I stopped at Three Sisters for vanilla ice cream so that we could enjoy our crisp à la mode. Upon cashout, I ordered a hand-packed pint and realized that this allotted each guest approximately one tablespoon of ice cream. My lack of knowledge of the British Imperial measurement system left me too embarrassed to order another. They hadn’t covered that in Seventeen.
The crisp wasn't a looker, but she didn't even need the ice cream to dress her up. She was crunchy and crumbly and just sweet enough. The apples, sliced super thin, were a little bit tart and melted in your mouth. A few guests at the gathering (hailing from Maine and California) commented that the crisp was their favorite dessert of the evening, so I can confirm that it pleased palates from coast to coast. I didn't want to be too quick to pat myself on the back, but when I ordered apple crisp at a restaurant later that week, I ate it thinking, "mine was better." If only my teen-aged self could see me now, slicing and dicing on my own sweet time and receiving five-star reviews. Who needs a statement necklace when you’re wearing a crown?
XOXO, the Apple Crisp Queen.
Name drops: Barden Family Orchard, Three Sisters
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator, Madison Tom2. See more of their work here.
Felicia Fitzpatrick is a New York City-based writer and content creator. Her writing has been featured in publications such as AV Club, BuzzFeed, IndieWire, Teen Vogue, and Time Out New York. Between her podcast call and response, which explores the intersection of Blackness and performing arts, and being an on-camera host, Felicia has interviewed top theatrical and television talent, including Lin-Manuel Miranda, Audra McDonald, Ben Platt, Sarah Paulson, and the principal cast of HBO Max’s The Gilded Age. She is the proud owner of NOW That's What I Call Music! albums 4, 7-8, 10 and 16.
Madison Tom is a New England-based artist making illustrations about trees and people hanging out. Sometimes both at once!