Cherry Almond Crumble

As I walked into my apartment late last night, kicking off my shoes and tossing my keys on the kitchen counter, I asked my boyfriend to step out on the balcony and smell the air. Though an odd request, he did as I asked, moving the window blinds aside and sliding the door open. After taking in several breaths of the air, he turned around to look at me with a puzzled expression across his face. It just smells like night, he said.

Exactly, I told him. It smells like night.

When dusk falls, the air takes on a new scent. While the aromas of the day are subdued, drowned out by heat and car exhaust, the disappearance of the sun pulls out the scents hidden deep within the earth. Night air has an undeniable sweetness, as if a thousand quiet flower blossoms are blooming at once. The smell is earthy, the dirt kicked up during the day finally settling back to solid ground. Once the humidity of the day begins to wane, the dampness of the air holds the aromas in place, helping them grow stronger as the dew settles onto the leaves in the trees.

When I walk through the grass, looking up at the starry sky above me, I wonder if the stars rain their own fragrance down from the heavens.

Growing up in a state marked by pastures and endless blue skies, the unique scent accompanying the night was something I took for granted. Perhaps it wasn't until that late night walk into my apartment that it dawned on me that it was something to appreciate. The light breeze keeps the aromas of night unspoiled—never to grow old, always to remain familiar. I wonder if the night carries its own scent elsewhere, in cities big and small. I wonder if it has the same sweetness, the same feeling of grass underneath your bare feet and dirt beneath your fingernails. I wonder if I am the lucky one.

As I sit out of my porch with twilight long past, the darkness of the sky pure and unyielding, I breath in the night and hold it in my lungs until my chest aches. I know I am the lucky one.

Cherry Almond Crumble has a flavor as pure as the night air. Dark sweet cherries are mixed with a little brown sugar and baked until bubbly and fragrant. A dough of cinnamon, oats, and almonds is sprinkled over the top and continues baking until golden. The fruit crumble allows the simplicity and sweetness of the fresh cherries to shine, the other components deepen and support the bright flavor. This crumble is a celebration of summer fruits and long summer nights.

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Chocolate Cherry Cake

A month ago, I was unprepared to take on vegan baking. As a traditional baker (and purveyor of butter and cream), it was a sincere challenge for me to alter everything I thought I knew about baking. I complained about it loudly to anyone who would listen, as I scraped attempt after attempt into the trash. It wasn't that I didn't do enough research before creating recipes; I simply didn't have the experience with vegan baking to make the recipes my own.

I was unreasonable and, as a few of you pointed out, unfair to take my frustration with my own inadequacy at vegan baking out on a lifestyle choice. For this, I apologize.

After two weeks of struggled baking, a switch finally clicked. The cakes and cookies that came out of the oven no longer went into the garbage can, but were proudly shared with family and friends. My goal to create vegan recipes that did not use hard-to-find or unusual ingredients was becoming a reality and I couldn't be happier. The recipes were not only dairy-free and egg-free, but absolutely delicious in their own right. It was an inspiration.

Even though my vegan challenge is over, I confess I haven't gone to the store to buy butter or eggs just yet (gasp!). When I find myself faced with a warm oven, I don't feel like I'm done creating and experimenting with vegan recipes. Over the next couple weeks, you might spot a few more popping up (and I think you'll fall in love with them as much as I did).

Recently, I had several pounds of cherries resting in the refrigerator. They were an impulse buy at the market when I saw the price tag had considerably dropped. I ate my way through half the sweet fruit before I realized they were going to go bad before the rest would get eaten. One of the downsides to living alone is that when you buy pounds of several varieties of fruit at once, there is no conceivable way you'll be able to eat them all by yourself (note to self: lesson learned). With a chocolate craving in the back of my mind, and a love for cherries and chocolate, a cake seemed to be in order.

I honestly could have eaten half of this cake in a single sitting. It seems only fair to advise you, this cake should come with a warning label.

This Chocolate Cherry Cake has a rich, chocolate base with sweet, bursting cherries. The cherries are folded into a basic chocolate cake batter before rising delicately in the oven and the final cake is topped with a dark, decadent chocolate glaze. Use high quality chocolate for the best flavor. I love to eat this cake chilled from the refrigerator, but it can be enjoyed warm or at room temperature. This cake is simple to garnish and aims to impress.

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Cherry Cream Cheese Muffins

For the first time in my life, I'm living alone. I've moved to a city I know well, but it's been long enough since I've dwelled here that I am surrounded by strangers. Moving is about starting over, starting fresh, making new friends, and seeking out new experiences. It's building a new chapter in the book of life. Right now I'm in the "making new friends" stage and it feels harder to do now then when I was younger (of course, it doesn't help that I'm working two jobs and taking 10 graduate credits over the summer). While I have mixed feelings about living alone, I keep reminding myself that living alone isn't the same thing as being alone.

They are, in fact, two very different circumstances.

Living alone means sticking a spoon directly into the jar of peanut butter and double dipping to my heart's content. Living alone means watching an entire season of Big Love in a single day without having a soul to judge me for it. Living alone means forgoing pants when the temperatures rise without worrying about public indecency. Living alone means letting the dishes pile up in the sink until I decide I can't handle the mess. Living alone means doing impromptu dances to my favorite songs while baking and getting brownie batter all over the kitchen floor.

Living alone means creating a sanctuary for myself where I only need to answer for myself, a sanctuary I can then share with those I care most about.

Some days I do get plagued by loneliness, an inevitable factor in life whether you live alone or with others. It's hard moving somewhere new without having that network of love and support in the next room or halfway across town. That network still exists, but it's farther away than it was before. To temper the occasional lonely feelings, I treat myself to date nights; I'll buy myself a new red wine, cook myself a three course dinner, and dine by candlelight with a favorite television show sitting across the table. I'll escape into books, making lifelong friends with the characters buried in the pages. I roller blade through the neighborhood, finding a good dose of fresh air to cure most of life's ails.

Yes, being alone and living alone are too very different situations. Living alone means I can bake muffins at an obscenely early hour on a Saturday morning, banging about the pots and pans without apology. Oh, how I do like to bang around those pots and pans.

Cherry Cream Cheese Muffins are soft, sweet, and tangy. Fresh cherries are pitted, halved, and mixed into a whole wheat oatmeal muffin batter. Before heading into the oven, the muffin tops are swirled with cream cheese and sprinkled with sugar. The muffins are utterly light, with a crumb so small and so moist that they melt in your mouth. The recipe is vegan, but you can easily use non-vegan ingredients if they are already in your pantry. With a cup of tea or a mug of coffee, these muffins will brighten any morning.

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