One of the great things about studio food photography is the chance to collaborate with people across disciplines: food as art, image as art. A couple months ago I had another opportunity to play with Rachel Sherwood on some personal work.

My colleague Nate Ryan was nice enough to swing by and film a little behind the scenes of the day, and I think he did a good job of conveying how a food shot comes together: the experimentation with composition, ingredients, and propping, then the careful preparation of the ‘hero’ dish and capture of the final shot.

Behind the Scenes: Chicken with Rachel from Chris Bohnhoff on Vimeo.

Thanks to Rachel and Nate for the chance to create together.

It’s been ridiculously, unseasonably warm in Minneapolis this month. Like, tulip bulbs sprouting because they think it’s Spring kind of warm. So it’s fitting that this week I drew a nice hydroponic English cucumber from the Heartland Market produce bin this morning. The cucumber just doesn’t seem like a wintertime vegetable: the green, the crispness, the juiciness. It’s a little taste of a warmer time, now to be enjoyed year-round.

I go through long stretches when I forget how good cabbage is. Probably because when it’s warm outside I generally eat it is as slaw, and that gets boring. Then the snow falls, and the CSA dumps five cabbages on us, and I rediscover the sweet joy of braised cabbage. This year’s discovery has been this easy one-dish meal:

Large dice any combination of sweet potatoes, rutabaga, parsnips, potatoes, carrots, onions, and fennel so that you’ve got a nice layer on the bottom of a dutch oven. Toss with olive oil and salt & pepper, and bake at 450 for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, take a few of your favorite sausages, slice, and brown.

After 30 minutes of roasting the veggies, add the sausage and 2 cups of chicken broth, and roast for another 15 minutes. Bam!

As with so many vegetables, cabbage is so beautiful because of the textural contrasts – the smooth, almost waxy outer leaves, and the amazing layers that emerge when you cut in to it. Good stuff.

I feel the need at this point to admit that I don’t love kale. I mean, it’s no chard.

But this stuff beckoned to me, with its color palette and texture. And while it’s not my favorite, make no mistake: I will eat it. Soon. Probably stewed, with sweet potatoes.

Once you start looking at vegetables, it’s easy to get mesmerized: the colors, the textures, the variety between individual pieces.

I returned to the studio from Heartland Market with a bulb of fennel, which is fun for its contrasts. The very sturdy and layered bulb gives way to amazingly delicate fronds. I tried to do justice to both identities here.

Many thanks to my friend and photo colleague Mette Nielsen for the prop loaners. So nice to have friends with good taste.