Fitzpatrick Grand Central

by Rolaine Hochstein
March 18, 2009

HIGH TEA (à la BROGUE)
141 East 44th St
@ Lexington Ave
New York, NY 10017
212-351-6800

I’m a tea buff. When I’m in England, high tea is the peak of my day. Since it is usually sumptuous and expensive, caloric if not nutritious, tea for me becomes late lunch or early dinner. I’ve loved tea at London’s Westbury Hotel (finger sandwiches on sizeable triangles of cardboard-thin buttered bread), Brown’s Hotel (an especially alluring selection of cakes, petits fours and shortbread) and the Connaught, where a butler served all-you-can-eat tiny, tasty sandwiches kept moist under a brilliant white napkin. When we asked for the bill, there was none. Tea was exclusively for hotel guests. “But we’re in off the street!” We protested. “You are our temporary guests,” the butler said suavely.

And we’d taken so many sandwiches — egg salad patê, minced ham, cream cheese and chives, smoked salmon and more. One of each would have filled a plate, but my buddy and I had had at least two of each and plenty of tea to wash it down. We murmured a sincere thank-you and slipped out.

I like tea in the quaint little tearooms that dot the English countryside. Sandwiches may be sparse or absent, but there are scones — usually fresh, warm and buttery, with plenty of raisins — served with thick clotted cream, the rich uncle of ordinary whipping cream. There may also be shortbread and whiskey-soaked pound cake.

High tea in Ireland is a somewhat different story, a kind of folk tale. My most memorable took place in that fine Dublin hotel, The Shelbourne. Our tea was delivered by a motherly aproned woman with a platter piled high with oddly-shaped, lumpy-looking scones she seemed to have baked a minute ago. They were the best ever. We gobbled them up — with fresh butter, fruity jam and an ocean of clotted cream — and then she brought more. High tea in Dublin was a victory of heartiness over elegance.

This experience came to mind last week at the Fitzpatrick Hotel in New York City. How had I not noticed this place before? Standing on East 44th Street, it’s a dark brick bit of Dublin slipped in among the steely surrounds of Grand Central Station. Inside, there’s a modest reception counter in a roomy lobby reminiscent of Ireland some 15 years ago.

The opposite of pizazz, everything is worn just enough to make it homey and welcoming. Afternoon tea is served either in the busy, buzzing Wheeltapper Pub (with a heated outdoor patio) or the Library, set off from the lobby by atmospheric iron railing topped with polished brass. Choosing quiet, my buddy and I plopped into a pair of armchairs pulled up to a round polished wood coffee table. It was cold out, but we were warmed by a nicely burning corner fireplace. The red brocade walls and the floral green wall-to-wall carpet reminded us of many an Irish pub with a family clientele. The glazed ceramic pots holding tall, bold flowers brought back a blossomy terrace overlooking the harbor in Ballycotton. Of course, there were books because it is a library — three niches of shelves carrying real, reading books including The Irish in America.

On the day of my visit, we had the choice of a Special Tea for $15 or High Tea for $18*. For the small difference, we went whole hog, an apt expression since it would take a greedy sort to go to the last bite. We started with a substantial pot of hot tea, followed by a three-tiered platter boasting a daunting array of finger sandwiches and baked goods. Here is the difference between the Irish and the Brits. The Brits serve dainty finger sandwiches with a delicate patê of egg, chicken or ham salad or potted shrimp so finely puréed that it’s like frosting between the decrusted buttered bread. You get a single slice of ham or salmon and a thin layer of cream cheese. There is the razor-sliced cucumber and, if you’re lucky, the little cones of bread with watercress sticking out.

This is not the Irish way. Our cheese sandwiches had three layers of good Irish cheddar between rectangles of straightforward white bread. Our curried chicken was chopped, so we knew we were eating chicken. The cucumbers came with sour cream and dill. These finger sandwiches were really a handful and there were more of them than would allow for decent attention to the scones. As in the fancy Dublin hotel, these scones were not uniform. Irish bakers, it seems, have a strong inclination toward individuality. And raisins. We doused the scones, whatever the shape, with butter, whipped cream and strawberry jam. But we had to leave some in order to try the Irish cookies on the top tier. We stayed a long time, punctuating our nibblings with a few more pots of Barry’s Gold Medal Irish tea.

Attending to our comfort was the right kind of server, a fresh-faced, friendly lass from County Cavan, who was as solicitous as any old-country aunt. “How are yez doin’?” she asked between refills. Eilish Sheehan has been in the States for 10 years but never travels south or west because what would her family say if she didn’t come home on vacation? But she loves New York. “When I got here,” Eilish told us, “I couldn’t sleep for all the noise. Now when I’m home, I can’t sleep for the quiet.”
We also talked with the amiable general manager, Patrick Leyden. “Leyden is not an Irish name,” we admonished him.

“There used to be an O’ in front. That makes everything Irish.” A native of County Clare, Patrick has been in the States for 13 years, 10 of them in non-Irish environs. Even with going “home” once or twice a year, he was starting to lose his brogue. After two years with the Fitzpatrick Hotel Group, he’s getting it back. A good many Irish guests consider this hotel their home away from home and are more than willing to share their gift of gab.

What is the question guests ask most often? “Most requests,” Patrick replied, “revolve around the location of a shop.”

“So,” we asked him, just to be different, “what are some developments this place is planning?”

“No changes,” Patrick said Irishly. “It’s important to know who you are.”

Rolaine Hochstein is an award-winning novelist and short story writer. She is a mentor at Girls Write Now and a member of The Writers Room. She wrote the above piece as a pinch-hitter for her husband, Mort Hochstein.

*Correction: Since the publication of this article, there is now only one afternoon tea menu for $18.

Also in Drinks, Irish, Midtown East, Tea