Stop Calling Mexican Food Cheap Eats

My first job was at the Chi-Chi’s in Lexington, Ky. I was a 16-year-old hostess, in charge of taking reservations, seating guests, and managing the wait times—two hours most Saturday nights, longer if it was prom season and couples in rental tuxes and sequins had driven in from Richmond or even Pikeville for a fancy Mexican dinner. We served endless baskets of chips and salsa, along with tubs of queso (“kaaayyyso,”...