Little Brown Bettys, Pockets of Fall

Medically reviewed by Christiana George Updated Date: January 7, 2026

Summer absconded in the night.

And it’s now officially autumn. I know it’s official because I can bear wearing long pants again, and the hot coffee drinks look awfully tempting on cafe menus. It’s official because we just piled the comforter back on the bed and the white shaggy rug has been restored to its rightful place in the living room.

Do you know what this is like for a born-and-bred Californian? For TWO born-and-bred Californians, for Chris not only grew up in California, he grew up in Southern California, even more infamously unvaried. How can I possibly begin to describe the strangeness of this change we’re undergoing? Is this normal? Is this how it usually goes?

“Yup,” everyone tells me. “This is how it usually goes.”

Okay, okay, so I’ll calm down and just roll with it. Even though I’m actually terrified inside of what the rest of the year has in store for me, Winter Neophyte that I am. Us coastal Californians, we live so obliviously of the weather.

Now what is a brown betty, you ask? Good question.

It’s an ADORABLE dessert, a cousin of the cobbler and the crumble and the crisp even, one of those utterly, classically American baked things that I’d never heard of before. Actually, I may have read about them once, and laughed at the utter simplicity of the recipe.

And while you can fill them with any of your favorite fruits, it’s fall, which means apples. Apples and brown sugar and cinnamon. Mmmm. The smell that wafted into the living room inadvertently got me thinking about Thanksgiving… and DAMN, plane tickets are expensive.

LITTLE BROWN BETTYS

Adapted (not really) from Gourmet
Serves 6

Ingredients:

6 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted
1 tsp granulated sugar
6 slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed
2 medium apples (I used a honeycrisp and a macoun)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup panko

whipped cream or plain yogurt (if you want to call it breakfast, as I did this morning)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly butter six muffin cups with some of the melted butter. Sprinkle granulated sugar among the cups.

With a rolling pin, roll the bread into flat pieces. Brush both sides with more of the melted butter, and gently place into muffin cups.

Peel and slice the apples into 1/2-inch pieces. Stir together with brown sugar and cinnamon, and toss to coat. Stir in the panko and remaining butter. Divide the apple mixture among the six cups (they will probably be heaping, but just cram them in)

Cover pan with foil and bake 30 minutes. Uncover pan and bake another 20 minutes, until the apples are tender. Let cool for a few minutes before removing from pan.

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Gin Thyme Lemonade

Beverages

Christiana George

Updated Date:
June 8, 2023

To understand my feelings about alcohol, I need to tell you a story.

One 4th of July when I was in college, I went to an Independence Day party thrown by a bunch of frat guy friends. There were hamburgers, there were hot dogs, there were chicken wings and other barbecue-ish food items. The only things missing were beer and dessert.

In the middle of the party, one of the guys made an announcement.

“They’re bringing the cake!” he said.

“The cake?!” I squealed. “Yes! All right! Awesome! That is great to hear!”

“No,” (he rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe he didn’t, but he probably did inwardly.) “the keg,” he corrected.

A cheer went up in the room. I felt crestfallen.

Chris finds this story oh-so-amusing, and to this day, makes fun of me for it. But you know what? I’m not ashamed to admit it: I’d choose cake over liquor any day. I’m just that kind of woman. (What kind of woman, you ask? The kind that dreams about petting dogs, no joke. Chris thinks I’m repressing something.)

That being said, you will notice that today’s post features a very awesome alcoholic beverage. With the amazing weather we’ve been having—and the fact that Chris and I celebrated our move-to-New-York anniversary recently (thanks for the comments, guys!)—it seemed that kind of day. The kick-off-your-shoes-and-expose-your-very-pale-feet kind of day.

And anyway, I’ve evolved. I actually enjoy alcohol now. Although I have to admit, I’m a girly drink type of person. I’ll have none of that neat-scotch, thanks, but give me something fruity, ideally something that masks much of the taste of the alcohol, and I am down. I mean, let’s face it, I’m presenting you spiked lemonade. It doesn’t get more gentle than that. But it’s good stuff, and the subtle hint of thyme makes it doubly lovely. And even though it’s kind of early in the season for lemonade, I can definitely see it making its debut at your first barbecue of the year. It’ll be a smash hit, I promise, just don’t serve it to the kiddies (or alternatively, don’t add the gin).

Another confession: I made this lemonade with Meyer lemons, so I suppose it’s really a gin thyme Meyer lemonade. I had a bunch lying around that were starting to shrivel, so I decided to juice them. (I’ve also been on a grapefruit juicing spree lately—Greyhounds!) I encourage you to try this drink with Meyer lemon juice sometime. Think extra floral notes!

Anyway, I’m starting to feel really red around my ears (the unfortunate side effect of being Asian I’m afraid), so I’m going to stop now and go finish my drink. Cheers, and have a great weekend everybody.

GIN THYME LEMONADE

Adapted from Martha Stewart
Serves 4 (makes about 8 cups)

Feel free to omit the alcohol.

Ingredients:

1-1/3 to 1-1/2 cups sugar (according to your sweetness preference)
5 cups cold water
1 small bunch of thyme (10 to 15 sprigs or so)
2 cups lemon juice
1 cup gin

Directions:

In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar, 1 cup of water, and thyme to a boil, and stir until the sugar melts completely. Turn off the stove and add the remaining 4 cups of water, lemon juice, and gin. Stir, then refrigerate. Serve cold, preferably with ice.