Even though my kids are not yet on summer break and even though I, as an adult, do not have a thing called a summer break, I’ve apparently helped myself to one. I’m sneaking off to the beach on weekdays (oops), reading novels, gorging myself on cherries and crisp-from-the-market cucumbers, playing midday tennis like a lady who lunches, and getting vexed when I receive work-related emails and texts. [“Alex, why are they texting me on a Sunday?” “Deb, it’s Tuesday.”]

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While I do not think that the internet necessarily needs another recipe for burnt Basque cheesecake, it turns out I did. And since you’re stuck with me for as long as you’re here, pull up a chair, because we can’t get enough of this one.

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