***
I enter the condo and throw my bag down, along with my keys that ricochet off the wall. Michael pops his head up from the couch, his eyes going wide. “Dude. What the fuck happened to you?”
I go over every detail of the fight, including how upset I am that I didn’t even get my chicken parm. When Michael rolls his eyes, I throw my hands up in the air. “It’s not funny! After that little bit of dinner theater there’s no fucking way they’d let me step foot in there ever again.”
“Couldn’t you just order takeaway and send Michael?” Niall, of course, is on fucking FaceTime and heard all that.
“What time is it even over there? Shouldn’t you be sleeping or something?”
“Danny. It’s barely midnight and I’m thirty-six. Not gonna turn into a pumpkin or anything.” He shifts his gaze over to Michael. “He’s kinda cute all riled up.”
“Barf,” Michael and I both say in unison. I immediately head to the freezer and pull out our bottle of premade espresso martinis. After TikTok taught us the trend of freezer door drinks, we’ve begun stocking them both here and at the bookstore.
I pass Michael his, automatically assuming he’d want one, and plop down on the couch next to him.
“So,” Niall begins, with a chuckle, “was all that Disney shit you told the whole restaurant true?”
“Unfortunately, One Direction, yes. While he had a very toned ass, even I had trouble looking beyond the tattoos on them cheeks.”
“Especially when riding him.” I push Michael over, Niall cracking up on screen.
“I’m sorry you had a shit night. But he did seem like a true arse. Silver lining? You’ll be single when you head over here in a couple months.”
That’s true. Maybe Niall has some cute friends he can hook me up with. Or at least point me in the right direction of where to go in the city.
“You’ll have to be Daniel’s shepherd once he’s over there.” As if Michael had been reading my mind.
“Erm…I cannot promise anything. Haven’t had much luck myself with the lads as of late. Bit of a dry spell. It’s fine though. Given me a lot of opportunity to make improvements at the book pub, really refine the bakery menu.”
“Speaking of,” Michael says, reaching into a box on the coffee table, “we need to talk about what this thing is you sent us in this month’s care package.”
Michael pulls out what appears to be a cake or…no. Maybe it’s a bread. Whatever it is it’s still half wrapped in cellophane. There’s a bit cut off the end already. He takes the knife, still on the table from what I’m assuming was the first round of sampling, and cuts off another slice, handing it to me.
“So you did get it! That’s a brack. Well, technically it’s called barmbrack”
“A what now? How’s that even spelled?”
“Michael. I included the recipe in the box, spelling and all. I think it has history with something to do with Halloween.Basically, I think it just gives us another vessel to slather butter on at breakfast.”
I take a bite and immediately it reminds me of something akin to a cinnamon raisin bread. But also, not quite. There are other flavors and fruits going on here. I can see why Niall slathers butter on it, as it does feel a tad on the dry side otherwise.
“I’ve made some VERY specific notes on that recipe card that are nonnegotiable. The tea you soak the dried fruit in must be an Irish black tea. Not anything from England and certainly not any of that garbage you call tea in the States. You can feel free to experiment with whatever combination of dried fruits you like but make sure it’s more than just raisins. Otherwise, you’ve made some variation of a soda bread. And, most importantly. It must be served with Irish butter. I know you buy things in bulk in America, but do not use some store brand American butter with this. Especially when selling it to customers.”
I turn to Michael. “You should do this for the fair. Like set up a table of books made up of Irish authors. You could offer a package deal for a book and a slice.”
“For a silent partner you sure have a lot of opinions.”
“I think it sounds like a great idea,” Niall says, winking at me.
Michael shoots dagger eyes at the screen. “You both better not gang up on me when I come visit. I remind you we were friends first, then you unfortunately met Daniel.
I throw back the rest of my espresso martini. “Don’t worry Michael. One Direction and I would never think of doing such a thing.”
Irish Barmbrack (“Brack”)
Author: Niall Quinn
Servings: 12
