It’s her Food & Wine edition, but that makes no sense. It doesn’t go to print until next week.
I’m eager to touch it, eager to know what the fuck this is doing in my friends’ house. Eventually, I find the strength to pull my shaking hand from my pocket, taking a seat on the couch, and bringing the magazine into clearer view.
Miller looks stunning. Unhappy as fuck, but beautiful nonetheless. She’s standing in her crisp chef’s coat, arms crossed over her chest, hair slicked back, no septum ring in sight. My kitchen is blurred in the background and my stomach sinks at the memories.
Her and my son making a mess, having so much fun baking together.
The team coming over to try her creations.
Us, sliding our bodies together because we finally had to touch each other.
Leaning my elbows on my knees, I stare at the magazine in my hand.
God, she’s impressive. I’m so fucking proud of the girl. As much as I’ve been hurting since she left, the pride I feel hasn’t diminished.
After taking in every inch of the image, my attention finally slides over to the headlines.
Zero-Waste Cuisine Takes Hold.
Six Tips on Poaching the Perfect Egg. I should send those to my brother.
And finally . . .
James Beard’s Outstanding Pastry Chef of the Year Talks Family, Food, and Changing Things Up.
Without wasting more time, I flip through the pages, looking for the article. I land on it halfway through the magazine.
The Best Things in Life Are Sweet
By Gabby Sanchez
I first met Chef Miller Montgomery in the dimly lit dining room of up-and-coming restaurant, Luna’s (Los Angeles—Chef Maven Crown). We filled the potentially awkward opening minutes with small talk, both of us easing into the hard-hitting questions, but before I could get to them, Montgomery stopped me, fleeing to the kitchen to pull a baking sheet from the oven.
Returning, Montgomery proceeded to place a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie on the table between us before casually asking, “Should we get started?”
Here I was, sitting across from James Beard’s newest Outstanding Pastry Chef of the Year, with an entry-level baked good offered to me on a small dessert plate.
There wasn’t much that made sense to me that afternoon. Our interview took place in another chef’s restaurant. Montgomery was casual and used words that an at-home baker could understand, distinctly unlike any James Beard recipient I had interviewed before. There was an approachability about the young chef, a relatability that so many long-time professionals lack, but every juxtaposition, every contradiction, disappeared when that chocolate chip cookie hit my tongue.
There are an immeasurable number of good cookies out there, but it’s difficult to make the simple great. Montgomery not only made a simply great chocolate chip cookie, but simultaneously readjusted my scale on which all future desserts will be judged.
I’ll admit, though this article was always going to be written in a positive light, when I walked into Luna’s that early September afternoon, I was skeptical of the reputation Montgomery had earned. I was positive her name, pastries, and menu magic were that of another overhyped but ultimately underwhelming chef. But I’m proud to admit that when I left, I did so as a new fan, willing to travel anywhere the star chef is working.
Taking a moment, I quickly look around the living room to see if anyone knows what the hell is going on. But no one is here with me. With my head back in the pages, I continue to read about Miller’s work history, the internships she did overseas and in the States, the big-time names she’s worked for, but it’s the third page that has my heart beating far faster than what’s most likely safe.
But the most shocking revelation from our time together is when Montgomery admitted with a beaming smile that after earning the top honor in the industry, she’s leaving it all behind.
I reread that sentence three more times to make sure I got it correctly. What the hell is going on? My knees are bouncing so rapidly from the adrenaline coursing through me that I have to pull my elbows off them so I can continue reading.
I was thankful I had my recorder on because my journalist hand had frozen mid-pen stroke.
“It’s not my passion anymore,” Montgomery admitted. “I took a summer hiatus from the restaurant industry and fell in love with a different kind of life. Baking is all about passion. If you don’t feel it, your food reflects those sentiments. One of those art imitating life situations.”
“And you’ve found a new passion then?” I asked.
“A new dream as I like to call it.” She wore a meaningful grin at the statement. “One with balance, friendship, and a whole lot of love.”
I close the magazine for a moment. There’s no way this is real. This has to be some kind of sick joke the guys are playing on me. Like they typed this up and left it in here for me to find, except . . . the pictures. The fucking pictures. From the first page to the last you can see the transformation in Miller, starting with the photos from that morning at my house and evolving into pictures I assume were shot at Luna’s.
I reopen to see Miller’s hair gradually falling to her shoulders as you move through the article. Eventually, she removes her chef’s coat around the time she reveals she’s leaving the industry. Her tattoos and beautifully bright smile are on full display by the time I flip to the final page.
“Can we expect to find you consulting at kitchens in the Chicago area?”
“No,” Montgomery said with a hearty laugh. “There’s only one kitchen I plan on spending my time in and that’s the one featured on the cover of this magazine.”
Chef Montgomery has never owned her own restaurant or patisserie, so when asked if she had plans to change that, she simply said, “Yes.”
“I feel it’s time to put my own name on my work,” Montgomery clarified. “I don’t know yet what that will look like, but the biggest thing I’ve learned through my years of consulting is that it wasn’t the type of food that had me excited to wake up. It was the teaching, the sharing of a craft I love so much. I’m excited to find ways to continue doing that in a capacity that’s more suitable to my new life.”
“And what about this new life has you so excited?”
“I’m looking forward to living in one spot. Having a place to call home. Having my dad close by and being a part of a community that supports me, who I support in return. Hearing the constant encouragement from the man I love, and I’m equally excited to cheer him on in his endeavors. But the part I’m most looking forward to is having the opportunity to bake every future birthday cake for the little boy who stole my heart this summer.”
“How does it feel to know you’re settling down?” I asked.
“I don’t like the term ‘settling down.’ I didn’t settle for anything. I simply stopped running when the two best boys I know caught me.”
We continued the afternoon by swapping stories, her sharing that she was nervous for the new role she was stepping into but felt as if she had all the support from the people who mattered most. She revealed that she had three alternate desserts lined up to be featured in this article, but with her big announcement, she wanted to go back to the basics. She wanted to showcase recipes that the everyday baker could execute.
“My favorite part of baking is feeding the people I love,” Montgomery said. “I hope these recipes will help others do just that.”
We drank chai tea lattes as we spoke about life, family, and food, and it was the first time I could recall an interview of mine that derailed so wonderfully.
I left our time together with a reminder so many of us in the industry need at times—there’s life outside of the kitchen . . . and it’s beautiful.
I inhale a sharp breath, attempting to swallow down the lump in my throat as I move my attention to the recipes she worked so hard on this summer. Only now, they’re simplified and meaningful.