main2_miller_220
And that amount is impressive. Miller takes her work home with her (literally: she's even raising an edible army of crickets — 2000 to date — atop her fridge for culinary experiments), and she's quick to assure that she doesn't get out much. "I don't drink, or party, or have friends really," she says a bit sheepishly, crediting Bondir as the one and only reason she has made her temporary home here. She describes herself as a country girl who finds big cities jarring and farm life ideal. She sees the fact that she homed in on Bondir, a little rural corner in a major hub, nothing if not serendipitous.

"My favorite thing is getting to cook with Jason Bond every night, honestly," she tells me in her steady alto. "Nothing about it is easy. He's definitely intimidating and very focused, and you don't want to piss him off." She laughs, adding, "Luckily, I don't, I guess. I've known him for so long, he's not just my boss; he's a big part of my life. I lucked out."

Watching the two of them work seamlessly at the rough wooden prep table, chopping and peeling like one person with four arms, all while giggling at Miller's tipsy decision to "pasture" her crickets like cattle, singing the praises of Pete and Jen's Backyard Birds (where Miller slaughtered a 65-pound turkey the week before), and brainstorming weird things in the kitchen to vacuum-pack and hang in the window, it's evident where Bondir's plates glean their harmony. She is a perfect fit for his vision, and her quiet influence makes its way onto the plates every night.

"Three years ago, I would've said that where I'm at now would be it for me. But now that I've grown up a little more, I'd say it's the beginning," she says. "I've had tons of cooking jobs before, but they've all been, you know, make a burger, make lasagna. [Bond] has helped me train my mind in a way that's more creative and good for people, rather than good for numbers. The clientele that we get comes for an experience and to try something they haven't had before, and that's the best thing about it."

BONDIR 279A BROADWAY, CAMBRIDGE :: 617.661.0009 OR BONDIRCAMBRIDGE.COM 

>> CLANDRY@PHX.COM :: @EATDRINKWRITE

< prev  1  |  2  |  3  | 
Related: Photos: City of Cambridge Dance Party 2010, Review: Camie's Bakery, Fun with Matt & Ben at Central Square, More more >
  Topics: Food Features , Cambridge, Central Square, Rachel Miller,  More more >
| More


Most Popular
ARTICLES BY CASSANDRA LANDRY
Share this entry with Delicious
  •   DIY DRINKING: HOUSE-MADE INGREDIENTS ARE RAISING THE BAR  |  March 12, 2013
    "When I moved to Boston," UpStairs on the Square bar manager Augusto Lino explains, "it was uncommon for bars to have anything house-made beyond a large container of vodka filled with pineapple on the back bar."
  •   FRESH BLOOD: MEET BOSTON’S NEW CULINARY MUSCLE  |  February 21, 2013
    Whether behind the line of a critically acclaimed kitchen, holed up in a basement pumping out some of the best nosh in the city, or braving Boston’s pothole-filled roads to bring you ass-kicking bites, these chefs are fast becoming ones to watch.  
  •   THE STEEP ASCENT OF TEA CUVÉE  |  February 13, 2013
    We've all been told that once upon a time, angry Bostonians dumped three shiploads of English tea in the harbor to protest taxes, but let's be real here — it was probably just really shitty tea, and they were doing what any of us would do when continually plied with subpar beverage choices.
  •   BEE’S KNEES TAKES FLIGHT: CHEF JASON OWENS READIES HIS GOURMET GROCERY  |  February 04, 2013
    "There was a bit of a setback with the wood for the floors," Jason Owens says, a facemask hanging from his neck and a trucker hat perched on his head, his easygoing Nashville drawl rising above the sound of electric saws.
  •   THE CHALLENGE? TURN VALENTINE’S CANDY INTO HAUTE CUISINE — NO DESSERTS ALLOWED  |  February 04, 2013
    As adults, we find ourselves missing those halcyon years when Valentine's Day was just a Halloween knock-off with no pressure and lots of processed sugar.

 See all articles by: CASSANDRA LANDRY