Bob Vivant

Hello, I’m Bobbi, writer, photographer, and culinary explorer.

I LOVE…Black coffee, runny yolks, Maldon salt, thick toast, soft butter.
Sharing the breakfast table and a crossword puzzle with my husband Greg.
Watching Greg watch birds.
The anticipation of cooking with the seasons.
Long distance running.
Tasting my way through the cobbled streets of Old Madrid.
Cranberries popping on the stove to let you know that they’re ready.
Gently used cookbooks.
A warm plum tart.
Any meal my sister prepares for me.
Bourbon Manhattans straight up.
Acoustic guitar.
Figs and fennel, together, alone.
Bringing friends and family to the table.

I’m not a chef. I wasn’t raised at the knee of an Italian grandmother. In short, I wasn’t born this way. My childhood was strung together with orange Nehi, Spaghettios, and Pop Tarts punctuated too infrequently with garden fresh tomato sandwiches and my mom’s fried pies. Still, the happiest moments of my life then and always are in the kitchen.