Apple Pie Bombs (and an overload of words)

I thought my eyes were going to explode today. Which would have been messy and inconvenient, so I’m glad they didn’t. Today was wretchedly slow. I had one assignment, which morphed into two when, on my way to the assignment, I ran into a line cook swinging a linen bag full of romaine lettuce.

The Portland Museum of Art is opening a new exhibition Thursday, which, according to my computer, is officially today. I was sent to photograph men hanging a massive, multi-panel reproduction of Edward Hopper’s Captain Strout’s House. Once I got to the museum I realized I might need the D200 with the 70-200mm, so I walked back to grab it. After picking it up, I took a shortcut between some buildings and a parking garage and ran into this kid:

Tommy, who is a line cook at David’s Restaurant, was busy swinging a linen bag full of wet lettuce. He told me that the linen bag was cheaper than a salad spinner and less prone to breaking. Completely understandable. (Sidenote: I was a line cook for three months last summer. I had been told my job choices were either a dishwasher or something along the lines of a “sandwich maker.” Sandwich maker sounds so innocent and that description was a complete lie. I chose the line, cooked meat for the first time and failed miserably at my job. It was a blast, but I’ve vowed never to subject any real cooks to that horror again.)

Back to my eyeballs.

Those two shots took an hour, best, including the trip there and back and there and back again. I then proceeded to spend most of my day in front of the computer and feeling my eyes slowly strain against their sockets.

*I read the Strobist for five hours. The Strobist is good, but five hours is rather excessive.
*I photographed the tomato I’d bought at the farmers market outside of the office. It involved extensive off-camera flash, much to the chagrin of my desk neighbors.
*I read up on zoom bursts (and then proceeded to zoom burst the tomato.)
*I discussed photographers with John, meaning he listed off photographers’ names and I’d rack my brains to remember if I recognized them.
*I checked my blog.
*I watched a video on how to flute pie crust.

Which leads me to the more exciting part of the day: pie. I was determined to make pie today and not even the fact that there is no pie pan in the apartment could deter me. The inner pastry chef inside of me decided that rolling dough around clumps of apple filling would be just as effective. I would make freaking apple pie bombs (I reserve the right to trademark that name) and I would work on my non-exisitent lighting skills while doing so.

I was either unable to find the mixing bowls, or there are none. Luckily I improvised and whipped out a couple of sauce pans for the dough and the apples. I thrive on improvisation. My bed is two blankets doubled up on the hardwood floor and covered by a third. My pillow is my bunched up hoodie. Currently I have only one pair of clean pants, but I am convinced that if I switch between the two clean shirts I own and add a scarf on occasion, no one will notice.

I ate at least a quarter of the dough. Since the apple pie bombs required more dough, I only made one, seen upper right corner.

Spectacular apple pie bomb! Lit from the front left-ish with the SB-600, probably dialed to 14mm in TTL mode. Paper reflectors made from pest control receipts and instructions in back corners.

Fabulous set-up. I should really invest in some lighting gear so as not to mooch off everyone else…


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