Dark Cherry Fruit-on-the-Bottom Yogurt

Living alone has its perks. After crashing at home for the last eighteen months, I'm reveling in the glory of unmade beds, marathon television watching, and eating dinner on the living room floor. I can sit around in my pajamas all day long with no one to judge my choice of clothing. My mother, however, will tell you I did many of these things before I was living by myself and, as we all know, mothers are usually right.

Living alone also has its downsides. It can be lonely. The endless freedom can begin to feel oppressive when you find yourself with too much time on your hands. For the last six days I haven't eaten a proper meal because I haven't been able to see the sense in cooking just for myself. I do, however, keep baking, which poses a world of new problems on its own. For instance, am I really going to have to eat a dozen cupcakes all by myself?

Truthfully, I've never had to consciously bake for one. I've always had coworkers, friends, or parents to give away any cupcakes or cookies I couldn't eat by myself. It was a successful system and everyone enjoyed playing their parts—I would bake and they would eat. Now, however, I need to work on scaling back my recipes, like making six cupcakes instead of twenty-four (but even six cupcakes can still be too many to expect one poor soul to eat). Unfortunately, there are some recipes that simply cannot be scaled back, such as loaves of bread or layered cakes.

Baking for one truly hit home for me this past weekend. I set out to make a granola toffee that ended up failing spectacularly. Though it wasn't good enough to share with you, it was fine enough to devour as a midnight snack. Half of it disappeared before I had realized exactly what I'd done (and I had to throw the rest away or risk no longer fitting into my wardrobe).

Trust me, there is little sympathy to be found when complaining about having too many baked goods lying around the house.

Fruit-on-the-Bottom yogurt is not a novel or new idea, but it's a elegant one that has stood the test of time. While I don't typically buy this kind of yogurt in the store (I find it too sweet and not particularly filling), creating my own version using thick, Greek yogurt and fresh fruit makes this quick breakfast much more appealing. Until I master baking for one, this is a sweet treat I wouldn't mind having too much of in my refrigerator.

I used dark, sweet cherries, but any fruit could take its place at a moment's notice. Simply adjust the amount of sugar or honey to the sweetness of the fruit or berry.

Dark Cherry Fruit-on-the-Bottom Yogurt makes for a quick breakfast or snack on the go. Dark, sweet cherries are cooked down into a thick sauce and layered into jars with honey sweetened, plain non-fat Greek yogurt. Whether you like to mix the fruit into the yogurt before stealing a spoonful or save the sweet cherries for the very end, this yogurt will satisfy any hunger pains that pop up during your day.

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Honey Wheat Cake with Cream Cheese Icing

It's a common practice, when one is feeling under the weather, to partake in retail therapy. Buying expensive shoes or a new shirt, in those moody moments, makes the weight of the world seem a little lighter. It's hard to say exactly why spending loose change can turn a mood from blue to bright. For some reason, it's easier to face the world with a cheery face when you're working a new pair of blue jeans. Whenever my mood is headed toward melancholy, I like to go food prop shopping.

I doubt you will find anyone get more excited about dirty, thrift store silverware than me.

Thrift stores and yard sales are the holy grail of food prop shopping. Not only is everything exceptionally inexpensive (as a young woman, extra cash is something I do not have), but the kitchen tools and dinnerware are each a unique find. Certainly this type of shopping can be the definition of hit-or-miss, but when you stumble across something you didn't know you'd been searching for, the union feels fated.

I've recently been caught up in old bakeware. Scratched and blackened, only years of dedicated cookie making could have turned these baking sheets into the perfect state of used. Old jam jars become glasses for milk and vases for stray wildflowers. Glass candle holders become cups for serving puddings or containers for jam.

Though I have an entire closet filled with baking gear and food props, I find myself using the same things over and over again. The old cotton sugar sack in the photos above is used so often, you could easily spot it in every other post (go play a game of I Spy—I wish I was joking). The white rimmed plate holding the honey cake is another find that frequents the pages of this blog whenever a slice of cake or a stack of cookies need to be held. Lately I've been wondering why all my photographs seem to look the same. I think I have my answer.

Last weekend I found myself on a food prop shopping spree. I came home with so many bags of old dishware, I began to wonder if I'd need another closet to hold it all. Plates so old they have the appearance of broken egg shells and colorful silverware now fill the shelves of my closet. Now to wait for inspiration to strike...

This Honey Wheat Pound Cake with Cream Cheese Icing is a real treat. The cake is a simple one, made with part whole wheat flour, buttermilk, and honey. The honey, however, turns this cake into magic when it hits the oven, caramelizing on the bottom and sides of the pan. Topped with a honey sweetened cream cheese icing, I found myself eating this cake for breakfast and lunch. I used a dark honey for this cake and I suggest you do the same to get a deep caramelized flavor. However, if dark honey isn't available, regular honey will work just fine.

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Strawberry Honey Oatmeal Bars

Sometimes life saddles us with responsibilities we didn't ask for, never wanted, and couldn't anticipate. Big or small, these responsibilities become our own. Maybe they were never meant to be ours, but we can't help but make them into our own albatrosses to bear.

This morning while settling down on the couch to get some work done, I heard a chirp. At first, I wasn't sure exactly what I heard. It happened again. Chirp chirp. I looked towards the window to spot the bird, but the frame was empty.

Chirp Cheep.

The sound was coming from the fireplace. More specifically, it was echoing inside the flume. With my ear pressed up against the glass pane of the gas fireplace, I confirmed the worst. The little bird was trapped.

And I found myself with a sudden responsibility—to free her.

I quickly shut off the gas to the fireplace to prevent the heat from the pilot light burning her little feet. Then, I climbed out onto the roof to see how she found her way there in the first place. For whatever reason, the slats on the flume had opened and perched on top was another little bird—her mate—guarding her fiercely. As it turns out, the poor love birds had unfortunately discovered the flume was a terrible place to build a nest and home.

Listening to the desperate chirping of the little birds to one another, I too felt helpless. I wondered whether the bird had fallen and broken a wing; I pictured her singing sad melodies out from the echoing metal of the flume until she reached the end of her time.

The world can be so cruel sometimes.

I called my mother with the little bird's plight and she helped try to dismantle the gas fireplace so we could reach her. We didn't succeed. As we wondered what would become of her, I sat near the fireplace, as if my empathy could somehow reassure her. Instead, it was the sound of her irregular chirping that reassured me.

The proper people were called in to help rescue the bird. When the flume was finally opened, the living room scattered with pieces from a torn-apart fireplace, there was nothing to be found inside. It was empty. The little bird had managed to fly out from the flume, freeing herself on her own accord.

If I hadn't sat down on the couch, I never would have heard the sound of her small chirp. Her problems would never have become my own. If I hadn't sat down on the couch, her predicament would have remained undiscovered. Yet, the result would have been the same—freedom. The little bird's plight was never meant to be my albatross to bear but, because I turned it into my own, we were both able to revel in her victory.

May I never have to hear another chirp where it doesn't belong again.

Strawberry Honey Oatmeal Bars are sweet and chewy. The bars bake up soft from the strawberry jam, yet hold together well making them extremely portable. I loved them hot from the oven, where the strawberry jam was thick and warm. However, they are just as good the second day, tasting better than the boxed cereal bars of a similar nature. I used this strawberry balsamic jam and they were fantastic.

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