Rory Miller – an American boy who chooses Bulgaria for the second time. And he stays. He has been living and developing here for 13 years. Most will recognize him from his participation in MasterChef in season 5 of the show, others have already read "Na oko" and know that it is more food for the soul, seasoned with the important things that bring us together at the table.
How do you learn to live "by eye", what does the portrait of the Bulgarian village look like and more - Rory tells us.
In another interview about your book "Na Oko" you say that "The culinary experience is not just about the food - it is everything that happens around it." What changed our understanding of everything that surrounds food?
The culinary experience is inextricably linked to the human experience. When someone says “culinary,” it should not stop at taste, aroma or spice – it is a journey, a means to reach the soul. And this journey cannot be faked. It rejects pretense, luxury for luxury’s sake or the ego that drives food trends. At its core, cooking and sharing food are deeply human acts that can break down barriers and build bridges.
Has abundance exacerbated this contrast between our understandings of the past and today?
In this sense, the contrast is not so much one of variety. People in small villages may not have as wide access to products as those in cities, but what they lack in choice they make up for in soul, creativity, and care. On the other hand, too much choice can dull the senses. When everything is available at all times, nothing seems special. The abundance of options can lead to a poverty of appreciation.
In many rural areas, what happens around food is called life – conversation, community, silence, ritual. In cities, it often becomes a spectacle – more performance than nourishment. It’s easy to forget that the true value of food is not in how it looks on the plate, but in how it brings people together around the table.
To write “Na oko” you traveled and photographed a lot. Is there anything unshown or undescribed that you still remember today?
Perhaps this is the evolution itself – of both the book and myself. The process took several years, during which time there were huge changes in both direction and heart. I began with a very strong attachment to Sofia and an ignorance that was reinforced by distraction and weakness. I finished the book with a strong sense of alienation from Sofia and much of the people there. I finished it, in my opinion, a much stronger, wiser, and more passionate person, determined not to lose sight of the reality of life again.
How long did he work on the book and in which villages did he live?
About 3 to 4 years. The world has gone through some pretty serious upheavals during that time. Including COVID and then the war in Ukraine. There were a lot of things that prevented me from finishing it.
Ultimately, the book focuses on 9 villages where we spent at least a few days with local families. These were Negovanovtsi, Salash, Pavolche, Chelopek, Gorno Peshtene, Kabile, Voden, Dryanovo.
Beyond the culinary wealth you have preserved, what else have you "collected" from people?
This whole experience reminded me that real people still exist – with deep, genuine kindness and care for others. It opened my eyes to the vast human wisdom and experience that is often ignored and slowly returns to the ground, never appreciated.
I began to understand the "value."
That life is about loving the people around you – family, friends – always being ready to lend a hand or feed a stranger, and spiritually absorbing all the small details that create a beautiful, fleeting moment.
This shockingly short sliver of time we're given is inexplicable - it literally fries my mind, even just trying to make sense of it. On a universal scale, nothing matters. Nothing.
What was your personal lesson?
This story taught me to live "by eye" and to love "by eye" - with awareness and with intention.
Soon we will all be gone. Everything we have done and everyone we have known will be completely forgotten. All that will remain will be a faint trace like a vibration. So love hard and live hard.
You come from a completely different world – you grew up in Seattle, you went to Italy as a child, and later you traveled and lived in different places. Do you remember your first impressions and experiences when you came to Bulgaria?
I came to Bulgaria with the desire to start a new chapter, to explore a different part of the world, and to meet new people. I had traveled extensively before settling here, so I can’t say I experienced culture shock in the traditional sense. Instead, I encountered cultural surprises – subtle differences that piqued my curiosity, not disorientation. I consider myself an open and adaptable person – I don’t judge quickly and fit in naturally to new environments, which is not typical of most North Americans abroad.
People who interact with you more often know that you speak about Bulgaria with a lot of love and affection. What brought you there in the first place?
I initially came to Bulgaria by chance – I came across an advertisement for a teaching position. Before that, I knew almost nothing about the country, except for its location in the Balkans.
At the time, I had just finished a teaching contract in Russia and was looking for a new adventure. I found two options – one in Poland, the other in Bulgaria – and after some hesitation, I chose Bulgaria. It seemed warmer, the alphabet was familiar to me, and the idea of living near the Black Sea appealed to me (it was still a nice experience back then).
I stayed.
I stayed for a few years, made connections, then left again – I lived in Bosnia, Montenegro, the Czech Republic, Slovakia and even back in Russia. But I kept coming back to Sofia – sometimes for a short time, sometimes for a longer time, to teach again. Over time, Sofia started to feel like home – I had close friends here, the city became familiar to me, and the language – less intimidating.
What do you remember about your first weeks here?
One of my first impressions of Bulgaria was that it was a place of contradiction. Bulgarians seemed to me full of paradoxes – resilient and appreciative of simple things, yet never shy about complaining about them, though rarely doing anything about it – as if complaining was a form of purification, if only they were given the opportunity to express it. At the same time, there is a deep national pride – in terms of local food, history or nature – which makes the dynamic even more complex and interesting. But at the same time, they can brutally hate their country, its people, its government, often ending their tirade with a promise that one day they will leave.
Why did you stay?
What ultimately convinced me to stay was the warmth and richness of the people. Bulgarians, in general, are some of the most welcoming, family-oriented, and generous people I have ever met. This depth of character and sense of connection made me feel at home – and kept me here.
How far back in time is that?
That was about 13 years ago – I've been living here ever since.
My attachment to Bulgaria is deeply connected to the people I met – my friends, their families, and the communities that welcomed me.
Find the people for your table. How has your attitude towards food and cooking changed over time?
My relationship with food and cooking evolved in unexpected ways – it started out of curiosity, grew into a passion, and was shaped by the desire to share culture through taste.
I’ve been through a lot of different things – I’ve always believed that life is too short and fragile to do just one thing. I wanted to try everything, and so I did. About 12-13 years ago, I decided to leave teaching and focus on brewing. Back then, good beer in Bulgaria was in short supply, and the craft scene was almost non-existent. I grew up in the Northwest of the US, surrounded by craft breweries, and I wanted to bring that to Bulgaria – to show my friends how enjoyable good beer and the culture around it can be. That’s where my culinary journey began.
Through the breweries I started, I started experimenting with food – I wanted to create not just beer, but an experience around it. I started cooking dishes I missed from home and showing people the depth of American street food. Back then, burgers were rare, BBQ meant meatballs, pulled pork was confusing, and “hot sauce” meant Tabasco, if you could find it at all. It was incredibly satisfying to introduce something new and see the reactions – to show that American food wasn’t just fast food, but could be soulful, hearty, and made with care. Pair it with a fresh beer, and the whole experience changes.
When did cooking come on the agenda?
At some point, I got tired of beer. The culture around it wasn't developing as I had hoped, and I got tired – of the alcohol, of being constantly broke. And then an unexpected invitation to participate in MasterChef came – and that was decisive: I completely refocused on cooking.
After MasterChef, I dedicated myself to cooking – specifically North American street food. I spent some time in fine dining restaurants, but I didn’t feel inspired. There was a disconnect between the food and the people it was intended for. I wanted to cook for everyone, not just those who could afford a fine dining experience.
For me, food should be honest, accessible, and comforting. The goal is not just to impress, but to feed someone, to make them smile, and to show them love through what you put on their plate. This is food that stays with you. This is the cooking I believe in.
What is your food? What do you like to eat?
The kind that is made by someone who cares about you, not because you asked them to, but because they chose to. Because they wanted to do something for you, to see you enjoy something they put time and energy into – not just to feed you, but to know that they helped you live. So it could be a turkey sandwich, or mussels with baby spinach and a spicy pomegranate glaze – or whatever. But I have to admit – everything tastes better with hot sauce. Not that dull, desperate, flavorless sauce that just burns without a clue what it’s doing – but real hot sauce that respects flavor and texture, a sauce with depth and meaning before it’s hot.
How would you describe the taste of the Bulgarian village?
I won't go into themes like abandonment, ignorance, desolation, despair, and exploitation... I'll save that raw honesty for my next book.
Where did you feel most alive and most at home?
Tough question. My first impulse is to say Italy. In many ways it’s true, it was the first place I visited in Europe, I was 20, life was fun, carefree, full and dramatic. I had almost nothing, but I didn’t need anything… but I wouldn’t say I felt at home.
I've always been on the move and the feeling of "home" is something that still eludes me - I've had moments of this feeling related to the situation I've been in. Mostly I've learned to feel at home wherever I am, otherwise life becomes hard and exhausting. If you love someone and they love you back - that's your home.
