Love Thyself

It was a Sunday morning. My wife had taken the kids to church, and I was alone in the house. I spent some time chasing a guinea fowl in the yard, but failing to catch it, returned inside to do the responsible thing: pick up toys and clutter. I hadn’t gotten far into my chores, however, before the kitchen called.

Lunch with myself

Lunch with myself

Shifting things around in the fridge for inspiration, I remembered some toro and sea urchin I’d purchased at the Japanese market a few days before and hadn’t used yet. With dinner plans for the evening and time running out on the freshness clock, it was now or never. So I got out the short grain rice and began rinsing it. More

Nanny Lunch

We have a new nanny. My wife and I say to each other, “Well, she’s better than nothing.” And we mean it — she is, actually, better than nothing.

B-grade nanny lunch

It’s hard to find a good nanny. Our previous nanny, Karina, was with us for seven years. She was the only nanny my two oldest children, Flynn and Willa, ever knew during their early years. Our third child Imogen has, at age 21 months, already had five. More

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