I don’t miss many things about my former life working in an office, but I can emphatically say that I miss treat day. So I did something about it: I bribed my way in to my wife’s treat club, picked up donuts and coffee, and photographed the experience of visiting my first treat club in a little more than six years. We had a great time.

My wife was a little apprehensive that my treats wouldn’t be up to the high standards of her club, or that enthusiasm for the photo project wouldn’t be there. But (a.) I know my way around a treat club, my friends, and (b.) give a crowd a couple dozen pastries and a small keg of caffeine, and you’ll get yourself some enthusiasm. I’m happy to say that the shoot was a success. Witness:

Faxin' 'n' treatin' - oh yeah!

Many thanks to the Third Floor North Treat Club for graciously hosting. May your treats always be plentiful and hand crafted.

A fine example of a snack cave

Is there anything better (I’m talking food-wise here) than a neighborhood deli? Sure you’ve got your schmancy once-a-year places that stretch your palette and show you something amazing. You’ve got your exotic street foods, your bakeries and pubs. But in terms of an experience that grounds and comforts you, I’ll take a neighborhood deli any day.

Now I’ve definitely got a certain amount of loyalty to the Birchwood Cafe – it’s the neighborhood deli in my neighborhood, after all – but I’ve got to shout out to the Cheeky Monkey Deli in St. Paul too. Beautiful fresh bread. These amazingly airy homemade potato chips. Organic meats. It’s the good stuff.

Cheeky Monkey is my friend Sarah’s neighborhood neighborhood deli, so I called her up to see if she’d be interested in letting me take pictures of her with a meatloaf sandwich – one of the signature dishes at the deli. As it turns out, Sarah orders the meatloaf sammie every time she goes to Cheeky Monkey. Her husband Craig has traveled the menu, but not Sarah. And, as she told me, every time a meatloaf sandwich lands in front of her she makes this face:

and that’s one of the reasons she’s my friend. : )

Here are a few more photos from our lunchtime shoot. Thanks loads to the fine folks at Cheeky Monkey for their hospitality and for plating up such photogenic and delicious food. Hopefully we can collaborate again.

What’s your favorite neighborhood joint? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

The magnificent Pot Roast Sandwich. Oh, the pickled onions. Ah, the horseradish sauce. . .

I love me a good reuben. Are you with me? The tang of the pastrami, the sour of the kraut and the sweet of the russian dressing, it’s a beautiful thing. I decided last month that I needed some behind the counter photos of a real deli, and visions of reubens were what spurred me on. And while there is definitely room for debating the best pastrami in the Twin Cities, my long standing favorite is The Brothers Deli, downtown Minneapolis.

The Brothers has been around for a long time, in several incarnations; I remember eating at one in Southdale Mall when I was a kid and my mom was a secret shopper for Dayton’s (speaking of old school). Regardless of the location, The Brothers has always been the kind of place that serves bowls of pickles on the tables and slow roasts its pastrami and corned beef on the premises. Which is the only way to go when it comes to a deli, as far as I’m concerned.

I talked to Jeff, the head brother, by phone a couple times to set things up – telling him that I’m a big fan, that I’d love to shoot some during a lunch rush sometime. Our two phone conversations lasted about 15 seconds combined (Jeff’s clearly a guy who has 14 hours of work to do in an 8 hour day), and next thing I knew my assistant TJ and I were there ready to shoot.

Jeff’s crew is a well-oiled machine. All of his employees have been with him for years – many for more than ten – and they know how to get a lunch rush fed. As I tiptoed around everyone, it kind of blew me away how calm everyone was, even though the line was out the door and down the skyway for much of the lunch rush. Each person had their station, and everyone knew exactly what was needed. It was beautiful to watch.

Salad station

Soon-to-be Corned Beef Sandwich

The Grill Captain

Jeff surprised me by asking if I’d be interested in shooting some food shots to put up on the walls of the restaurant. Based on our amazingly quick phone conversations I figured he would have his head down and would forget about me a minute after I was done shooting. But as it turns out, my photos now hang over the deli bar and behind the counter, and there may be more coming shortly. You gotta love it when personal work turns in to paid work.

Next time you’re in the skyways, keep an eye out for a two foot by three foot reuben floating over The Brothers deli bar – that’s my work. Sweet!

My wife Johanna gives me grief on a regular basis for not taking more pictures of our life. She gets incredulous about the fact that, on the one hand, I’m a professional photographer; on the other hand, I hardly ever document family events.

I don’t have much of a defense, and as of right now I’m going to make a half-resolution to be better about it. As a warm up, I’m delivering a couple photos of our breakfast.

Last month Johanna and our friend Carrie decided they needed to make marmalade. Which prompted Carrie’s husband Anders and me to decide that that would require scones – to provide something to put the marmalade on. Now, for the past month, our two households have been on a little bit of a scones race. Not a bad development at all.

Anyway, these are the most beautiful, fluffy scones I’ve ever made. So beautiful that they forced me to use the cooling period to document the occasion. Here’s to home cooking, Saturday morning deliciousness, and to pointing the camera back on my own life in ‘010.

I have this tendency to hang out with people who like to push the envelope when it comes to food. The kind of people who order three pizzas when in reality we only need one, just for the variety. Who order one – of each – whatever the choices may be.

People like my friend Kelly, who cackle maniacally about something like. . . the Bacon Explosion.

Never heard of the Bacon Explosion? It might be best for your health that way, but now that you’re here I’ve gotta tell you about it. First you take yourself some bacon and you weave yourself a mat. (How’s that for a start?) Next, you take some pork sausage and layer it on top of the bacon mat. Then comes another layer of cured pork – could be fried bacon, could be pancetta, whatever you got. Throw in some barbecue rub spices, a pepper or two, then roll it all up and throw it on the smoker.

The Bacon Explosion is one of those things that you know you shouldn’t do, but you can’t help yourself; you know you should turn away, but you just have to look. It is, after all, made first and foremost of the tastiest food on the planet. It’s basically pig crack.

As I learned, the Bacon Explosion makes you do some nutty things. When I first asked Kelly if he’d be up for a day of bacon and photography, he got really excited, and proceeded to spend the couple weeks until the shoot day honing his menu and refining what would go in to our explosion. When the time came, the menu for Kelly and his wife Liz, my wife Johanna, and me, included:

• Brown sugar bacon-wrapped jalapeno poppers, filled with cream cheese, coconut milk, and pineapple
• One rack of ribs
• One beer butter sauce infused whole chicken
• Twice baked potatoes (topped with bacon. . . duh)
• One bacon explosion

Everyone was more than a little incredulous about the ribs and chicken on top of the main event, but as Kelly said, “I thought the Bacon Explosion was gonna look so small all alone on the smoker.” The last thing you want to do is give the Bacon an inferiority complex.

before

after

Huge thanks to Kelly and Liz for their willingness to take Johanna and me on an epic food adventure. Kelly’s prowess on the grill and in the kitchen is perfectly matched by Liz’s good-natured response to seeing Kelly unload 10 pounds of meat for dinner. The bacon hangover I suffered the next day did nothing to take away from the deliciousness, or the experience of pushing my personal bacon boundaries.

This expression says it all.

The finished goodness

Update: in the giving-credit-where-credit-is-due department, check out the BBQ Addicts site for a look at the original madness.