For years, I was under the impression (mostly mine and other foodie-friends’) that good food could stand up to any type of dishware, including the 80’s-era Pfalzgraf brown-and-blue kind. Oh, how I loved those. It wasn’t until I moved to West Virginia (yes, we have sidewalks, of which many lurk only feet away from my front porch) nearly five years ago that I began to notice some strangely-bright dishware decorating several neighborhood cupboards. There were all colors of the rainbow, including that orange-y Dreamsicle hue, which took me back to my childhood days of running out the house in a screaming fury, to chase down the ice cream truck. Fiestaware. My son, Marshall, who appreciates design (the good kind), decided that he liked these colorful dishes, as well. So, for the next year, he saved up his holiday earnings (birthday, Christmas) and gave it all to one of our neighbors, whom he befriended, and gave explicit instructions to purchase several pieces with two optional color palettes from one of her corporate day trips just minutes down the road from the Fiestaware Outlet store. Her job took her to many U.S. cities, but none yielded as much pleasure for her than the little West Virginia town, that was the Mecca to Fiestaware groupies. As it turned out, she was one of them. I have to admit, coming into my kitchen every morning, with my colorful Fiestaware smiling back at me from my 1940’s inspired glass-front cabinets, gives me a certain, nostalgic comfort. Even though I hadn’t been born until late into the next decade, I feel a kinship to a more simple way of being. And, the food just seems to taste better.