Thursday, October 3

Delectable Dallmann

It's so hard to choose a "favorite" thing to photograph as a culinary photographer. I have had the pleasure of immortalizing all kinds of food, from the elaborately bedecked cookies of Badunkachunk, to the minimally modern French creations of Le Gavroche, to the grand and sophisticated spreads of the Rosewood Hotel Georgia; dripping syrup, oozing cheese, crisp salads, juicy cheeseburgers, seared seafood, silky caviar...

I have to say though, that with my affinity for tiny elaborate details and my life-long love affair with chocolate, I have a very special place in my heart for the perfect morsels that are Dallmann Confections.  In another life, I would have been a chocolatier; maybe, even, like Vianne in Chocolat, I'd find myself in a quaint French town guessing which of my creations would ignite long-forgotten passions in my customers. In this life, I will have to settle for admiring Isabella's art. And art it is. Intricate lavender lace patterns, graceful swirls of color, Pollock splatters against rich reds and royal blues, creamy centers voluminous with the flavors of bananas foster, hibiscus flowers, passion fruit, cardamom; each piece transporting you to a magical heaven as it melts sumptuously in your mouth.

Dallmann Confections

Dallmann Confections

I've now had the fun of two photo shoots with Isabella's creations; the first one creating little chocolate tableaus in various themes - flowers, exotics, savories, chocolates to pair with wines... - and the second one photographing the photographs, now transformed into the covers of beautiful boxed collections, tempting you to peek inside and make your selection.

Dallmann Confections

And, aside from the actual first taste of a truffle, isn't the selection the best part? I remember as a kid being given little sample boxes from Whitman's, See's, Russell Stover... ripping off the shrink wrap, pulling off the gold foil-embellished lid, staring wide-eyed and paralyzed into the depths of my treasure, trying to guess by shape and drizzle pattern which one would be my favorite. The same sense of nostalgic wonder exists in the Dallmann Confections boxes, except instead of your grandmother or the Easter Bunny, this one was given to you by your impossibly elegant and beautifully mysterious European aunt.

Dallmann Confections

Every flavor is impeccable, whether a unique and exciting combination with flowers or spices, or a perfected recipe for a traditional ganache; you run no risk of a nose-crinkling encounter with a chocolate let-down.

Dallmann Confections

Dallmann Confections

Dallmann Confections

Dallmann Confections opens its second location in November, at San Diego's new downtown waterfront retail destination, The Headquarters at Seaport District. The new shop will feature these collections as the perfect gift for everyone. No more "my _____ went to San Diego and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Instead, a luscious 9-, 16- or 25-piece box of truffles from the San Diego Collection, featuring San Diego's night skyline or one of its beautiful beaches.

Dallmann Confections

Or a selection from the Traditional Collection, an homage to Isabella's grandfather who opened the first of the family's pastry shops in Austria in 1954.

Dallmann Confections

The Exotic Collection for your jet-setters and daydreamers; the Flower Collection for your mom; the Beer & Chocolate Collection for your brother. Oh. Did I mention there are also chocolate bars and hot chocolate mixes? How about just one of everything, please.

Dallmann Confections

Dallmann Confections

With so many to choose from, many visitors will be racking their brains for more people to buy gifts for. I know I've already started my list. And I'm on top!

Shoot! I'm hungry.

(P.S. Go ahead, you know you want to: www.dallmannconfections.com)

Thursday, August 22

Pasta e Fagioli

People say when you're trying to sell a house, pop a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven to fill the air with the scent of sweet nostalgia, and entice the prospective buyer to invest in the Rockwellian pricelessness of a home-baked yesteryear. I say, go for a pot of pasta e fagioli on the stovetop instead.

For me, nothing offers a comforting embrace like the smell of sautéed garlic and onion. Add to that stewed tomatoes, brothy pasta, fresh herbs and grated cheese, and I'm sold. The beauty of most Italian food is that was born from the peasants; simple but satisfying concoctions from the earth that warm the heart and nourish the soul, invoking visions of your rotund Italian nonna with her long skirts and weathered hands (even if you don't have one), and multi-generational meals around the proverbial kitchen table.

Pasta e fagioli, or pasta and beans, has many variations but basically amounts to a wonderfully humble dish of white beans, small pasta, broth, and herbs. Most recipes suggest the tiny tubular ditalini pasta, but I think orecchiette lends a more elegant look. Often, recipes also call for tomatoes in either fresh-stewed, canned or paste version; you may choose to add other vegetables, pancetta, or varied herbs. Here is my version, adapted from an adorable site called Italian Food Forever and my favorite classic Italian cookbook, The Silver Spoon. Of course, we also have the Chef's added touch of homemade garlic croutons, which really does take the experience to a whole other level.


GARLIC CROUTONS

2 c stale french bread
1 clove garlic
1/4 c olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried basil
2 Tbs chopped fresh parsley
2 Tbs fresh grated parmesan cheese

Cut bread into large cubes. Mince garlic. Heat oil over medium-low heat and sauté bread cubes with salt and pepper until bread begins to turn golden brown. Add garlic, oregano and basil, and sauté until garlic is golden and bread is crispy. Remove from heat and immediately toss with parsley and parmesan cheese, and extra olive oil if necessary.



PASTA E FAGIOLI

8 roma tomatoes
2 cloves garlic
1/2 yellow onion
1 carrot
1 celery stick
3 Tbs olive oil
2 Tbs "Better Than Bouillon" dissolved in 1 qt hot water (or 1 qt vegetable broth of any kind)
2 cans cannellini beans (or navy beans for substitution) drained, or 1 c dried beans
     soaked and drained
1 Tbs dried herbs, such as sage, oregano, and/or thyme
salt and pepper to taste
pinch of red pepper flakes
1/3 c chopped fresh parsley
garlic croutons

Blanch tomatoes to loosen skin, then peel and chop. Mince garlic. Dice onion, carrot, and celery. Heat olive oil in soup pot and sauté onion, carrot and celery until softened. Add garlic and cook another minute. Add tomatoes and broth. Simmer 15 minutes. Puree half the beans with a few ladles full of soup. Add puree and the rest of the whole beans to the pot. Add dried herbs, salt and pepper and bring to boil. Reduce heat to simmer, add pasta and red pepper, and simmer until pasta is cooked. Stir in fresh parsley. Ladle into bowls and top with croutons. Serve with simple salad. (We love mixed greens with fresh basil, raw zucchini and grilled artichoke hearts, topped with balsamic vinaigrette and fresh grated parmesan cheese.)

Note: Soup will get thicker overnight as pasta absorbs broth, and makes excellent leftovers!


Mangia!

Porca vacca! Ho fume.




Tuesday, August 13

Elevated Gardening

Ah, high-rise living... the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the open floor plan, the views, the garden... the garden? Ok, the one thing I don't love about our apartment is the lack of actual earth with which to grow a garden. This year, we decided to give it a shot anyway. Between the tiny east-facing room that is filled with summer sun from 6am to noon, and the tiny south-facing balcony that is bathed in sunlight the second half of the day, we have pots growing heirloom and cherry tomato, cayenne pepper, and Italian basil plants, and one dwarf Meyer lemon tree.

One thing that has always devastated both my plant-growing enthusiasm, and my poor plants themselves, is infestations of bugs and disease. Nothing kills the glorious dream of full, healthy, organic plants bearing home-grown fruits and herbs like dowsing your sprouts in pest-killers, no matter how "non-toxic" they claim to be. So I figured in positioning the plants several stories off the ground, at least I'd found a way to outsmart the tormentors. Foiled again. Our first attempt at an indoor herb garden - a giant clay pot airing the sweet perfume of basil, mint, sage and oregano - fell victim to white mites in the winter, after allowing only a short time to admire its splendor. After wasting almost an entire bottle of insecticide trying to abolish the legion of bugs, I pulled the last sorry, half-brown, stunted sage plant out of the bare dirt and swore I was giving up forever.

But, spring's promises of renewal got the better of me. Up came the dry dirt, loosened and mixed with fresh nutrient-rich soil, with a cozy spot just perfect for our new chocolate-striped heirloom tomato plant. Fertilizer - check. Water - check. Sunlight - well, sort of check. It was only spring in Vancouver after all. But, wow, that plant shot up! Flowers galore! And then, flowers dropping. And dropping. We could not get one of those damn flowers to bear fruit! We discovered that since the plant was inside and away from natures helpers, we needed to give it some assistance in pollinating itself. So we gently tapped and shook, and the sun finally came out to stay, and along came a beautiful baby tomato, followed by another and a few more (even twins!).


Then, just as I was feeling like a proud tomato mama...mold. I wish that word could drip with the disdain I feel when writing it. Refusing to buy anything toxic and disgusting to spray on my lovely babies, I tried using the veggie wash we keep under the sink in case of emergency purchases of non-organic thin-skinned produce. Since it contained baking soda - a natural killer of mold - I figured it would be great. Turns out all new parents make mistakes. Weeks later I resigned to the fact that the wash was too harsh, and it was drying up and killing the leaves along with the mold. By the time I finally found the proper solution of baking soda, water and vegetable oil, a lot of damage had been done.

But the tomatoes were still hanging on, and our adorable dwarf Meyer lemon tree on the balcony was growing, centimeter by centimeter, and blossoming with sweet-smelling lemon flowers. We were so encouraged that we bought a cayenne pepper plant at the farmer's market and carried it proudly to its new home, confident in our future bounty.


Then we bought a little cherry tomato plant to keep it company. We diligently moved the smaller plants back and forth between the sunroom and the balcony for maximum advantage of the northwest's long summer days. The cherry tomato plant shot up. The pepper plant had lots of little buds. But the heirloom started showing signs of end rot on the little reddening tomatoes. Calcium deficiency it seems. So we fed it some crushed up calcium vitamins to stop the rot with only minimal damage.


And then we went away for a week. We watered the plants heavily before we left but, really, that's no way to treat a growing plant in the middle of summer. And when we came home, the plants told us so. You have never seen such a sad wilted sight as three fruiting plants that haven't been watered in a week. We quickly fed them and apologized profusely, but as I was coaxing the pepper plant into forgiving me, I noticed that it was covered - absolutely covered - in aphids. ARG. Seriously?! Over to the sink to carefully wash the leaves and buds off one by one, nasty little aphids down the drain. The next morning, the cherry tomato plant had bounced back happily, the pepper plant was looking revived (although over the next couple days it lost half it's leaves), but the heirloom really took a hard hit after fighting all that mold. The tomatoes were still hanging on but no longer growing.

It's been a couple weeks since then. I finally had to resort to insecticide (only semi-toxic) for the pepper plant. I just can't bear the thought of losing a battle to tiny ridiculous bugs, and I figure the chemicals will be long gone by the time the flowers finally open and bear fruit. The cherry tomato is overloaded with flowers and will need to be transplanted to a larger pot. The heirlooms really did stop growing but we ate two larger-than-golfball sized tomatoes with bocconcini and fresh basil (our latest addition - I'm giving herbs one more shot) and they were still heavenly sweet and perfect. There are three more to come, and another flower that looks like maybe just maybe it will bear fruit, and hopefully this time, armed with the knowledge of our past battles, we will be able to help it meet its full potential. The lemon tree lost all its 10 or so flowers and in return gave us one tiny growing lemon, which supposedly by percentage yield is a mad success!


So the moral of the story is, you just can't escape the pests and grievances, no matter how far away you try to get from the source. But, you can overcome them, and the rewards of hard work, dedication and love are always worth it. Sweet tomatoes, spicy peppers, savory herbs, tart lemons, parasites, trial and error, and literal fruits of your labor, a garden really is a metaphor for life.

And shoot, I'm hungry.

Saturday, June 29

Appreciation

Nothing is sweeter than compliments from total strangers. Well, maybe our homemade dark chocolate peanut butter gelato... a little pause to daydream chocolate dreams...


And now we're back.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have been humbled to receive three unrelated emails from three strangers who came across my work online and were moved to write me some warm fuzzies, which in turn gave me the warm fuzzies. Appreciation garners appreciation, and to the total strangers who were nice enough to take time out of their days to reach out to me, I APPRECIATE you! Probably to Angelina Jolie or Hillary Clinton or Beyonce, three admiring emails over the course of a couple weeks is laughable. To me, it is a bright spark of hope during an otherwise somewhat bleak personal time, that says maybe just maybe I am somewhere remotely close to being on the right path.

The first email in this group that I received was from a student and commercial photographer who said that after reading my bio and looking through my galleries, he felt the need to express how much he enjoyed my work. He asked if I would look through his work and offer any advice for someone trying to build up a food photography portfolio. The advice I offered him was something I believe in very much:
"The way I look at photography is that everything is a portrait. Whether you are photographing people, food or architecture, there is something that you are trying to convey about your subject in each photograph, some element that you find most interesting or beautiful that you want to highlight. If you can figure out what that is, I think that is the key to making a strong image. You have to be in love with your subject, and that love will translate to your image. For me with food, I always try to find the thing about each dish or item that is most interesting to me, whether the color or texture, the overall shape of the dish or the way one single element of it stands out, and that is what I build my image around... Focus on what you love and that will always come through in your photography."
The second email I received was from a woman who wrote me exactly six words:
"Your photographic work is impeccably beautiful."
I'm not sure I was able to convey in my response to her exactly how much those six words meant to me, and I'm not sure I am able to convey it now, except in the realization that maybe when I take the time to email people I admire, as I sometimes do, and I blabber on and on trying to express in detail just how moved I am by them and why, and how connected we are by our shared experiences or philosophies,  it might come across as actually less sincere than the simplicity of those few words equating to "I admire your work...period."

The third email I found in my inbox most recently was from a student at Le Cordon Bleu (the second student from one of their schools who has reached out to me actually, so good on you LCB for encouraging research!). She needed to interview a food photographer for her final project, and she chose me based on the passion she felt I imparted in the "about" section of my website. She asked me thought-provoking questions about how to stay inspired and how to be successful, the kinds of questions that I should remember to ask myself on more regular basis anyway. She seemed grateful for my heartfelt answers, but probably not as grateful as I am to her for choosing me to give them.

It truly astounds me when I don't receive responses from people to whom I go out of my way to send personal messages, agonizing over the words to try to convey in absolution what I want them to hear. Knowing how positively affected I am by these random acts of kindness from others, I can't believe that people could be so jaded or so busy to not feel the same way, especially because that lack of response kills a little bit of the admiration. It makes me want to visit their establishments or recommend them to others a little bit less, but mostly I think expressing appreciation for someone is about the nicest thing you can do, and failing to acknowledge that generosity of self is not admirable at all.

Don't be swayed by non-response though; don't be afraid to express your admiration or appreciation to people. I have to believe that most people respond the way I do, at least internally, and you never know the effect your words might have on someone. You might help them get through a terrible day, or remind them why they work so hard at what they do. You might give them the support they needed to take the next step, and that next step might make all the difference.

And now, in the long-awaited heat and sunshine of Canada Day weekend, chocolate peanut butter gelato (and maybe a nice email to someone I admire) is waiting.

Shoot! I'm hungry.

Monday, June 10

The Emmys!

Living in LA, you get used to streets being shut down a few times a year to make room for news crews, limousines and red carpets, and all the buzz and excitement that comes along with award shows. While the world is fixated on celebrities in their dazzling ensembles and sparkling jewels, gossiping about who made the fashion blunders and who showed up alone, not many stop to consider the enormous amount of work that goes on for months ahead of time, making sure every detail has been considered and is in place for the big night. One such event is the Emmys. One such unsung endeavor is the planning of the Emmys Governors Ball.


Billed as the largest seated dinner in the U.S., the Emmys Governors Ball is a feat to be admired. Transforming a multi-use space into a magical land of romance and illusion, complete with linens and furnishings, place settings and floral centerpieces, thousands of yards of drapery and lights, is an incredible undertaking. But at least this all happens ahead of time. Ever consider the magnitude of detail and preparation it takes to feed 5,000 guests a 3-course meal (with separate options for meat-eaters, pescetarians, vegetarians, and vegans)... all made to order and all served at the same time? Nearly unimaginable.

Well, the Chef and I got a chance to participate in a small piece of this unbelievable process last week, as the Emmy Governors Ball committee gathered at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion to make their final selections on decor, food and specialty cocktails for the event, which will take place in September. Sequoia Productions did an amazing job of setting the stage, and we were there to photograph it.


The committee sipped on signature cocktail options shaken up by Grey Goose Vodka while examining and discussing the presentation of table decor. Next, they sat down to a steady stream of top choice creations by Patina Chef Joachim Splichal and his team, while BV Wines paired their varietals and vintages with each course.

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

By the end of the evening, the committee had made their final selections from amongst the colorful crisp salads, juicy meats, elegant fish, indulgent pasta, and scandalous desserts. And of course, my favorite part of the evening, when everyone was packed up and sauntering home with full bellies and happy thoughts, we sat down to sample a few bites of our own, now lukewarm but still delightfully perfect.

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

Shoot! I'm hungry...

Wednesday, May 29

Best Vegetarian Chili

I've been a pescetarian since I was 11. It's a nonjudgmental lifestyle. I would never deprive myself of something I wanted; I eat what makes me feel good and healthy, and what tastes good to me.

Growing up, my dad made chili often and it is still a go-to meal for me. One pot, hearty, comforting, filled with protein, topped with cheese...it's basically a big hug in a bowl! He made his with ground beef; I make mine with Veggie Ground Round. Other than that, they're pretty similar.

The Chef, like my dad, is only a pescetarian by default. Meaning there is only one meal made for dinner at home, and there is no meat in it. (When dining out, of course, all menu items are up for grabs.) However, the Chef loves this vegetarian chili. He thinks it could win awards. I always think I've made enough to last for lunch the next day, but the pot is always empty by the end of the night.

The spices in this recipe aren't precise. I love foods like this because you just season until it tastes right, to suit your mood. Maybe one night a little sweeter, the next time a little spicier. So experiment and have fun! And feel free to double the recipe.

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

1 red bell pepper
1/2 white onion
2 cloves garlic (or more)
jalepeño/habeñero/scotch bonnet pepper to desired heat level (I like enough to clear the sinuses but not kill the tastebuds)
1 package veggie ground round
1 Tbs chili powder
1 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp fresh ground cumin
pinch fresh ground allspice
pinch ground cinnamon
several pinches salt (you can play with flavored salts here too, like smoked or chipotle)
pinch ground black pepper
5-6 dashes Worchestershire sauce
2-3 dashes liquid smoke
2 (14 oz) cans fire roasted chopped tomatoes
2 (14 oz) cans beans any kind, drained (seen here: 1 can black beans, 1 can kidney beans)
1 bay leaf
sour creme, shredded cheddar cheese and chopped green onions for garnish

1. Roast bell pepper over flame until charred. (If you don't have a gas stove, outdoor grill or fire pit, you can sauté the pepper with the other ingredients.)

2. Chop onion, garlic, hot pepper and bell pepper, removing seeds from peppers.

3. Heat oil in a large saucepan or soup pot. Sauté all raw vegetables over medium heat until soft. Add in roasted pepper last.

4. Crumble in veggie ground round, add all seasonings and stir to mix, a few minutes to allow "meat" to brown a bit (but not dry out) and absorb spices.

5. Stir in tomatoes, beans and bay leaf. Turn heat to low, cover, and allow to simmer for at least 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

6. Taste and adjust spices/seasonings if desired.

7. Ladle into bowls and top with sour cream, grated cheese, and green onions. Serve with warm corn bread. Enjoy.

Shoot! I'm hungry.


Monday, May 27

Just Moved From LA, In Need of Mezcal

One of the best things about being a food person is that your friends are inevitably food people. Food people are the best. They have usually worked in or around the service industry so they know how it feels to be treated every which way, and, unless they are completely jaded, are humorous, generous and courteous. They appreciate the reward of a well-earned meal and a great cocktail/beer/glass of wine at the end of a long day. They understand the art of food and drink, and are knowledgeable of flavors, ingredients and presentation, so they will play the game of "guess the herbs & spices" with you, and are typically Facebooking/Tweeting/Instagramming their adventures along with you, rather than waiting, annoyed, for you to finish so they can consume what is in front of them.

When the Chef and I lived in L.A., we enjoyed the abundant selection of mezcal: tequila's smoky, lesser known and often misunderstood cousin. I made up a simple cocktail of Sombra Mezcal, orange juice, muddled strawberry, cayenne pepper, cinnamon and egg white, which I mixed often while the Chef prepared our midnight (or later) dinners.

A year and a half ago when we moved to Vancouver, along with our quest for the perfect vintage cocktail bar (which we discovered quickly at 1927, the Lobby Lounge at the Hotel Georgia), we searched high and low for mezcal. I feel honest in saying it was nowhere to be found, because we can't count the near-rancid, undrinkable excuse that was the only option in any bar that claimed, "Well, yes, we have this ONE..." We had never heard of it, and after one try, we knew why. Disappointed and panicking, finally, a glimmer of hope. We began to hear whispers from sympathetic bartenders: "The BC liquor board is behind the times, but if you like mezcal, you have to meet Eric Lorenz. He's championing the influx of mezcal and agave spirits into BC." YES!

An email address was slipped across a bar, contact was made ("Just moved from LA, in need of mezcal," the Chef's email read), and finally we met Eric at one of the restaurants stocking his products, El Camino. As previously described, Eric was just the type of person we love - generous, knowledgeable, with a big laugh and a bigger heart. After the first meeting, Eric invited us to a small gathering of friends at his house, to taste and discuss an array of mezcal. Of course we said yes, and of course the Chef offered to cook in exchange for this wonderful hospitality. In true Chef form, he skipped all the easy, obvious options and went straight for a 2-day 20-step Oaxacan mole with shrimp, adobo braised oxtail and an appetizer of scallop ceviche. The food was a hit. The mezcal was a hit. A great friendship was formed.

A few months later, Eric and the Chef did a mezcal pairing dinner together at Legacy Liquor. Guests drooled over the Chef's grilled corn and scallop ceviche with raspberry sorbet, sous vide pork tenderloin mole "picadillo", and Mayan chocolate mousse, all paired appropriately with mezcal cocktails by local mixologist Shea Hogan and an edu-taining lecture by Eric.

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

Eric has done an amazing job in a very short amount of time in expanding the horizons of the BCLDB, and his current catalog of imported agave spirits is incredible. He is a true champion of the product, working hard to introduce and demystify agave spirits into the minds of Canadians. This past weekend was the 2nd annual Agave Week and Vancouver International Tequila Expo, hosted by Lorenz Agave Spirits, and showcasing a number of tequila and mezcal brands that have just become available in BC, thanks a lot to Eric. During Agave Week, Eric and his partner Zalorèn led classes from Sunday through Thursday at Legacy Liquor about tequila and mezcal, of course complete with LOTS of tasting.


Friday night was the culmination of Agave Week, with the Tequila Expo held at the Hyatt Regency Vancouver. There were hundreds of guests, mountains of tequilas to taste, bites from local restaurants, and an Azuñia Tequila cocktail competition, of which the Chef was one of four judges.


The winning concoction was A Hot Date in Jalisco by mixologist Grant Sceney of the Fairmont Pacific Rim. It was a well-balanced combination of añejo tequila; tamarind, grapefruit and lime juices; mole bitters; and a spicy rim, which will send Grant on a 4-day grand-prize trip to Mexico to experience the agave life.


If you missed it this year, be sure to keep up and mark your calendars for next year. Meanwhile, buy a bottle of mezcal to share among friends, and see what you've been missing!

Shoot! I'm hungry. And thirsty.

Saturday, May 25

Shoot! I'm Hungry.

I am a food photographer. I love being a food photographer. I love photography. I love food. The beautiful synchronicity of vibrant colors against rich textures, the highlights on a glistening sauce or juicy fruit, the ooze of melting cheese and lushness of whipped creme, all larger than life and perfectly presented, enticing you to stick your fork, your finger, or your face directly into the plate... These are the images I love to create.

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

After a day of arranging and rearranging lights, backgrounds, ingredients, components, and dishes just so; your face inches from every steaming, dripping, fresh-from-the-oven creation; your back aching a kind of ache you can only know after being unendingly contorted holding a 5-lb weight head-high while trying not to fall over or even breathe; when the final shutter clicks and you stand up straight for maybe the first time in hours, heaven lies in getting to finally sit down and sample a few bites of that glorious food. You don't even care that it's lukewarm, that the sauce has separated, the bread is soggy and the vegetables have wilted. It is perfection.

www.caratompkinsfoodphoto.com

Before I was a food photographer, I was simply a food lover. I grew up in a house where every night and weekend morning, we sat down as a family to a home-cooked meal. My dad made omelets and enchiladas; my mom made soups and pasta. My grandmother left behind an anthology of baking notes and recipes; my grandfather's beat-up cake tester is my favorite kitchen tool. My great-grandparents were bee-keepers and jam-makers. Holidays were celebrated not with religion, but with culinary tradition. Thankfully, I was blessed with a fast metabolism, because my life is food, and I am ALWAYS hungry. Granted, this was easier in my teens and twenties than it is in my thirties, but I will gladly be slave to a daily workout routine in exchange for the ability to participate full force and with gusto in this life that I was born into...

Shoot! I'm hungry.