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There comes a point, during the steamy warmth of late summer when the prospect of eating yet another salad feels positively depressing. It’s not the salad’s fault. It’s the heat. Lunch outside in the Californian sun does indeed sound charming, until you find yourself dodging wasps, perspiring profusely, brushing away June bugs, and watching beady-eyed lizards dart across the patio while your once-crisp leaves wilt into submission.
Can you blame me, then, when right around the moment a giant bluebottle with a disproportionately large derrière plopped into my ice-cold strawberry marg, that I started fantasizing about a bowl of steaming hot pumpkin soup? Oh, and bread — a thick, crusty slice with an indecent amount of butter - perfect for dunking. Well, that was it! I suddenly found myself tumbling into a spiral of thoughts about proper, pillowy, stick-to-your-hips comfort carbs: giant cinnamon buns crowned with cream cheese frosting, preferably eaten in a cable-knit jumper, under a blanket, slurping on a pumpkin-spiced beverage, whilst watching Gilmore Girls for the thousandth time.
Now, I know it would be ridiculous to wish summer away. The season is a cook’s Super Bowl. The markets are overflowing: tomatoes, aubergines and stone fruit on the verge of collapse. And those dahlias - unapologetic, firework-like - at their theatrical best. And for that, I am grateful.
But you see, the thing is, this morning at 6 a.m., on my daily walk, the air felt different. A faint crispness had crept in, barely there, but just enough to start thinking about socks, apple cider and staying inside all day.
So here, in anticipation of autumn, is a list of things to do as the season turns. No summer blues!
Cook! Perhaps I’m biased, but I’ve always believed the seasons are best celebrated through cooking. During autumn, I feel a deep pull toward comfort and sustenance. The days draw in, and the kitchen becomes a retreat—a place to hunker down, to feel wholly centered. This is the season for generous, grounding dishes such as baked potato chicken harissa soup, caramelized spiced butter apples with a pork stuffing, sage infused butternut squash pastina and spiced fig torte. Scroll to the bottom of the newsletter for full printable pdfs of the recipes.
Rewatch Gilmore Girls from the beginning, or for the first time (you’re in for a treat). - Yes, the dialogue is faster than your resting heart rate, and no, not every plot line has aged gracefully. But there’s a comforting rhythm to Stars Hollow - the family dynamics are endlessly fascinating, and the literary references make you feel clever (and distract from the fact that you’re slowly fusing with your sofa). Make it a night: snacks, a blanket, and a cup of something hot - preferably in a Luke’s Diner mug.
Channel your inner grandma! - Growing up is realizing just how much Grandma had it figured out. Pie making, gardening, puzzle solving, sock knitting, curler setting, tea brewing - she was living the dream! ’Tis the season for grandma activities
Make your own fall syrups - Seasonal coffees at the major chains now cost about $7-8 and, if we’re honest, taste faintly of soap. Skip it. Homemade syrups are deceptively simple to make: just sugar, water, your chosen star ingredient, a saucepan, and about ten unhurried minutes. Think pumpkin spice, chai masala , pecan-maple, spiced apple, pear–ginger, or honey–sage, each one capturing a different note of the season. Keep a bottle tucked in the fridge, and suddenly every cup of coffee, every mug of hot chocolate, even a plain bowl of porridge, becomes an elevated bespoke treat.
Take up golf - I’m not usually one to recommend sports. But since meeting my husband, I’ve discovered that golf has its charms. Don’t be intimidated: start with a few practice sessions at the driving range, then book a round. Golf is a humbling sport, and unless you’re playing with Scottie Scheffler, you’ll quickly realize most people are just as rubbish at it as you are. Plus, there’s something unexpectedly therapeutic about sending all your irritation sailing off with a tiny ball. It’s great! You’re outdoors early, when the world still feels hushed and forgiving, and the air has that cool, bracing clarity. Best of all, you can slip a thermos of hot coffee and a pocketful of snacks into your bag. Call it exercise if you like, but really it’s just another way of stealing a quiet morning for yourself.
Make your own pumpkin spice creamer - See point 4. It’s not just about refusing to hand over $8 for a PSL that tastes suspiciously like a melted Yankee Candle. It’s because making creamer yourself is absurdly easy and infinitely more satisfying. Recipe below.
Bake - You don’t have to be Nigella Lawson in her Domestic Goddess era to begin baking. Start with spiced apple crumble, then try cinnamon rolls or pumpkin pancakes, ginger cookies, buttermilk scones with plum jam, a pear and cardamom loaf, sticky toffee pudding, roasted squash galette, or French apple cake. I could go on. This autumn, I plan to be your go-to cozy recipe resource - so if you’re not a subscriber yet, consider this your nudge.
Fig torte and a homemade PSL Thrifting and antiquing – My best tip? Go straight to the poshest neighborhood you can think of, then duck into the scruffiest-looking charity shop or the dusty little antique emporium you’d normally breeze past. That’s where the treasure hides. I once found a collectable blue splatter china loaf pan (apparently quite rare) and a glorious stack of old Martha Stewart Living magazines. And if, like mine, your husband starts visibly twitching at the mere mention of yet another “thrift shop,” refer him firmly to point 5. Then use it as leverage. Or blackmail. Entirely your call.
Create a signature fall cocktail - Start a tradition: one cocktail you make every autumn, year after year. Mine is a Fig Negroni — bittersweet and dusk-coloured. I simmer dried figs with equal parts sugar and water to make a fig simple syrup, strain it after it cools, then stir 1 oz gin, 1 oz Campari, 1 oz sweet vermouth, and ½ oz fig syrup over ice. Strain into a chilled glass, and garnish with a slice of fig and an orange twist. It’s strong, jammy and sets me off giggling, uncontrollably, by the second sip.
Photo source board here Send a handwritten letter - A pretty cutting edge concept in the age of screens, swipes and twenty open tabs. Choose proper paper, something thick, elegant, with just enough tooth to make you feel like Nancy Mitford jotting a note before cocktails. Shops such as Choosing Keeping in London and Goods for the Study in New York offer especially lovely stationery. Slip in a pressed leaf, a favorite recipe, perhaps a spritz of your perfume. Seal it. Post it. Days later, it will arrive, fragrant with charm and far superior to any WhatsApp message.
Decorate seasonally - Forget the plastic pumpkins that come with a Prop 65 warning and a faint whiff of something flammable. Go for the real stuff instead: think knobbly gourds in wooden bowls, dried corn and straw wreaths.
Visit an independent bookstore - It’s a grey Sunday, 10 a.m., coffee steaming in hand - now head to your nearest indie bookshop and lose an hour or two among the shelves. This is the moment for that classic you’ve always meant to read: Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, The Return of the Native (Eustacia Vye is such a babe), or anything deliciously gloomy by Edgar Allan Poe. Or lean all the way into coziness: The Secret History by Donna Tartt, The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry, 84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff, or The Lost Spells by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris. Think spooky creaky floorboards, romantic crackling fires, and sentences you ache to underline.
Visit a college campus - You may be well past your back-to-school era, or ferrying around someone who’s just entering theirs, but do try to find time to wander a campus near you. UCLA, for instance, is magnificent. Last time I checked, you could still drift into the library, where everything feels calm, promising, and slightly Harry Potteresque.
Read or watch Harry Potter - Speaking of Harry Potter, I have the happiest memories of my mother reading the books aloud to the family while I was curled up by the fire. It’s a tradition I’ll never tire of—and one that feels especially right in autumn. What happened to reading aloud anyhow?
Buy (or create) a new seasonal fragrance - Last autumn, I partnered with Ffern, the Somerset-based fragrance house known for its one-off seasonal blends, to create recipes inspired by their autumn scent. Last year’s was quince-forward: rich, golden, perfectly nostalgic. I wore it daily, and now anything quince-scented takes me straight back to that time. Here are a few suggestions: Jo Malone’s English Pear & Freesia is perfect for the shift from late summer to early autumn—pear, melon, freesia, rose, patchouli and soft amber. For something deeper, try Aesop’s Marrakech Intense: a warm, woody blend of bergamot, jasmine, cardamom, rose, and sandalwood. For the home, think pear, bergamot, woodsmoke, amber, or a whisper of vetiver. You can blend a few drops of essential oils - pear and bergamot for brightness, vetiver and amber for depth—into a carrier oil and dab it onto cotton balls or porous stones. Tuck them into corners, drawers, or behind curtains. Or, fill a small bowl with dried herbs, citrus peel, and a splash of oil to make a quiet, smoldering potpourri. Or go for a candle that smells like a walk through damp woodland while carrying a warm croissant.
The autumn clean out - A reset of sorts. This is the season to clear out the out-of-date sunscreen, broken flip-flops, and beach gear you’ll never touch again. Cleaning isn’t thrilling, true - but neither is languishing in a house full of dusty, sandy remnants of summer. So make it bearable: cue up a jazz playlist or a comforting YouTuber, pour a glass of apple cider, and sort your junk into three piles - donate, sell, keep. Be ruthless! By the end, the house feels refreshed, ready for candles, blankets, and everything the season has to offer.
Visit a local farm - Avoid the commercial pumpkin patch - children in full candy-corn sugar delirium, an arch decorated with lurid orange plastic pumpkins, and a forty-minute wait for a photo you’ll never frame. Instead, track down a proper farm, the kind with apples, knobbly gourds, pumpkins, and squash stacked in muddy crates. Many have visiting hours, some even offer tours, and it feels infinitely more satisfying. Plus, your visit actually helps support local farmers after the summer rush.
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