The Served

Like most reasonably well-off white Americans, I’ve hired aliens. Most have been Mexican or Central American. Some have been legal, some have not. All have been good people with families and hopes and dreams, with warm smiles and senses of humor, with dignity.

One of the small but important joys in my life over the years has been serving the help, usually in the form of lunch. They honor me with their time and services; I honor them with a home-cooked meal.

Homemade chicken, tarragon and tortilla soup

For seven years, three to five days a week, I made lunch for our nanny, Karina. She came from a Oaxacan Mexican family and had never eaten much other than Mexican fare or fast food. More