Pie cooling on a windowsill. I love that classic image of Americana. I've referenced it a few times on Nothing-in-the-House and its a...

It's the 300th post!!! I think that and the fact that we're celebrating our 7th year means that Nothing-in-the-House is beyond el...

We used to go blueberry picking every summer. We'd pile in the red minivan with armloads of tupperware, drive out to the blue...

Last summer, in the airport on a work trip, I picked up a copy of Bon Appetit --I know because my boarding pass just fell out from...

It's getting to be that gloriously overwhelming time of year when just about everything is ripe. Just last week at the Mt. Pleasant...

I've seen The Last Waltz at least half a dozen times now. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down was a favorite sing-along selecti...

It was a big week for me and my writerly pursuits. Both pieces I have been working on came out within two days of each other. The first o...

I'm sitting in my non-air conditioned third floor room, sweating, and thinking about last weekend. It's not that the weekend wa...

My dad used to make us fancy breakfasts on Sundays--waffles, pancakes, or french toast, generally. I remember one Sunday in particular wh...

This photo, of women cooks/bakers preparing to serve pie to Mexican workers in Hood River County, Oregon, c. 1943, comes to us by way of ...

As I mentioned a few posts ago, The Runcible Spoon is a wonderful little food zine based in Washington, D.C. whose approach to food is fun ...

Well, it's certainly not the most beautiful thing I've ever made, sweet tea pie. When I was taking these photos, attempting to ...

It's that time. The time of the narrow overlap between rhubarb season and strawberry season. When I lived up north, the reasoni...

Is it summer yet? The sundresses (and even some sunburn), blockbusters, and strawberries of this past weekend all point to YES. But the w...