Barbra Austin

Should someone come to his senses in the next day or so, this is what we’ll be eating on Sunday.

This salad is stupidly delicious.

If you hide a dried bean in this pastry and eat it on or around the 6th of January, it’s called a Galette des Rois. The rest of the year it’s a Pithiviers.

This was supposed to be applesauce cake.

Fresh figs rate among my very favorite fruits, and they show up at the best time of year, when summer produce is having its last hurrah and fall’s firmer fruits are showing up.

Generally, when fruit is as beautiful as this collection of late summer jewels, I hesitate to manipulate it in any way.

If you’re like me, then when you hear the word “gazpacho” you probably start seeing red.

One reason I chose this little apartment in Paris is because it has a decent sized oven, as opposed to the table top combination microwave contraptions that seem to be everywhere here. Essentially, I’m living in a kitchen with a bedroom in it. And a living room. And a dining room. And an office.

I figured it was time I did a little baking.

My mother had remarkable restraint when it came to sweets. The woman could eat two tablespoons of ice cream and claim to be satisfied. I say “restraint” but I think she actually didn’t really like anything too rich. Or at least she pretended not to.

This cake was one of her favorite treats.

The idea of a hot drink on a hot afternoon is not always so appealing. The solution? Espresso granita, a.k.a. the easiest thing in the world to make.