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. . .

This month is on track to be the wettest October in Minnesota history. From most perspectives it’s been miserable: cold and damp, constantly overcast. A tough time for people like me who think of fall as the best, most beautiful time of the year, as all the rain has kept me indoors and caused the premature dropping of all those beautiful leaves. Not to mention how hard the weather has made things like fall harvest and yardwork.

But a couple days ago we had a one-day respite from the clouds, so I sped down to the vineyard before the clouds swallowed the sun again to check in on Nan and V in the fields.

These days the task is pruning back the vines of the one variety of grape that gets buried for the winter. Most of the varieties grown by Alexis Bailly stay on the trellises year-round and get pruned in the Spring. But one gets snipped in the fall, then buried as protection against the cold. As Nan explained to me, pruning is one of the main tools she has to impact the character of the grapes: the shape of the canopy, and the direction that the vine takes along the trellis directly shape a grape’s flavor profile. Pruning is an art built on years of trial and error, and it takes constant evaluation.

It’s interesting to watch an expert make her way down the a line of plants and quickly and efficiently sculpt vines in to shape. Pruning takes many quick decisions and movements; grape vines are such prolific growers that each one takes tens of snips. And there’s the medical exam part of the process, looking for small injuries in the vine that are all that soil-borne plant viruses need to take the entire vine down. And at the end of a growing season that started with a harsh winter, the medical exams can end up coming back. . . not as good as you’d hope.

But as Nan told me, many times she’s predicted the vineyard’s demise, and it keeps hanging in. All you can do is keep nurturing.

Grape vines, after the leaves fall

Pruned

A small but terminal injury

More of the Alexis Bailly story available here, and on the Alexis Bailly site.

A few weeks ago my wife Johanna and I took a trip down to the tasting room at Alexis Bailly Vineyard, just south of Hastings, Minnesota – about an hour’s drive from Minneapolis. It was a beautiful late-summer Saturday, and unbeknownst to us, the last day of the grape harvest at the vineyard.

The vineyard grounds are beautiful: the driveway takes you through rows of vines stretching out to the left and right, and behind the main building (made of knotty pine and Minnesota limestone) is a restored prairie and broad picnic grounds with big outdoor sculptures scattered around. Off to the side are two beautiful bocce courts with an outdoor dining area under vine-covered trellis.

As Johanna and I ate our picnic lunch and sampled from A. Bailly’s wines, I had a growing awareness of the harvesters having a great time at the end of a day of picking. Somehow we learned that the entire harvest workforce is made up of volunteers, and that there are actually more people that want to help every year than they can even use (and feed lunch and wine. . .).

Producing wine has got to be one of the pinnacles in the world of local food – not only are you dealing with the economics and all the physical realities of agriculture; you’re growing a crop that is extremely temperamental, with an attachment to a microclimate that takes years to completely work out. A couple of the big varieties that A. Bailly grows were actually developed at the University of Minnesota to harmonize with our climate; others have been brought in and tweaked over the 35 years the vineyard has been in existence. Add all this together, and what I see is a pretty amazing little community brought together by local food artistry of the best (ahem. . . alcohohic) kind.

Before we left I had decided that I wanted to know more about A. Bailly – I wanted to know more about the process, not just the harvest but throughout the year; about the community; about the balance that Nan Bailly has to achieve between being a farmer, a vintner, and a small business owner. Lucky for me, Nan is super open to people interested in what’s going on at her place. So after a few emails I went down last week for my first wander around. My plan is to keep going back as I’m able for the next year to get a sense of one cycle of grapes, starting with a little bit of the fermenting and bottling of this year’s crop, all the way through next year’s harvest. Hopefully by the end of it I’ll have a big pile of images that tell a story.

And with that introduction, here’s my first installment: some visual first impressions and wanderings around a working day at the vineyard. More personalities, perspectives, and stories to come over the next year.

Thanks to Nan, V, Kevin, and Joan for humoring me and letting me distract you from your work. And thanks for reading!

For the latest cover of Seward Coop’s Sprout! magazine we did a faux apple harvest. Faux because of the fact that our location – a small apple stand at the Dowling Urban Environmental School – had plenty of apples, they were just rotting under our feet, not actually on the trees. But when you’re trying to illustrate the fall harvest, and you’re about a month too late to harvest (and it’s about 80 degrees, but when the issue comes out it’ll be 50), what are you gonna do? You’re gonna fake it, that’s what.

Photographing kids is always an attempt to organize sheer chaos, but these guys did a pretty great job pretending to be cold and pick pretend apples (they did actually eat the apples – that wasn’t a problem).

For those of you photo lighting aficionados out there, an explanation of the first shot above. As you can see in the first shot, the sun was pretty low in the sky when we did the shoot. I knew that there was going to be some action going on, and that it would need to be frozen for the main shot of the family at least. Given that the natural light was fading, and we were in and out of dappled sunlight, I knew there would be some lighting happening.

I love using the sun as a backlight – even putting the sun in the frame to get the nice rings of color – then pumping something in as a key light in front, so that’s what we did here. I had my assistant TJ climb a tree camera right and direct a Quantum Q-Flash towards the family. When combining ambient and strobe lights the main question is what exposure value do you want to give the background in relation to the subject, being lit by the strobe? I really wanted a bright background to give the scene as much warmth as possible, so I adjusted my exposure to give the trees in the background plenty of detail, and to blow out the highlights. Then I adjusted the Quantum to give a good exposure on our family, and blasted away.

First time I’ve ever asked an assistant to climb a tree for me. . . hopefully it won’t be the last.

About a month ago the snack series made a cameo appearance on City Pages Hotdish Blog, which was great; it’s always nice to get some work out in to the world. But the other benefit was the call for snackers included in the story. That led to an email from Annie, a native Minnesotan currently in grad school in NYC. As luck had it, she had a visit home on the books, and was up for some photos.

Her favorite snack? Pickles.

What intrigued me most about Annie was that in our email conversation she called pickles a nostalgic snack; when she eats them she can visualize walking through the Minnesota State Fair, where you can buy ginormous pickles on a stick. So we went to the fairgrounds for our shoot, and I brought a couple jars of Gedney’s State Fair award-winning pickles upon which to snack.

But our timing was off: the fairgrounds were closed off to let the fair vendors get ready for the throngs. So we had to make do with one of the entrance gates.

Of all the snack subjects, Annie showed the least pain at eating her snack for the duration of the shoot. I told her to pace herself, but still, she took down almost an entire jar of Norwegian Dills. She’s got snack dedication, for sure. And after our time together she was even going to have lunch with her boyfriend’s parents (second meeting), but she showed not restraint.

Annie told me about a couple of her favorite pickle hook ups in New York – storefronts that deal exclusively in pickles. Annie, could you elaborate in the comments if you read this? And how did lunch go??