There’s a line from the movie Love Story, said by to-the-mantle-born Oliver Barrett IV (Ryan O’Neal) – the preppiest of Harvard students, so wealthy that his family has a hall named after it – to his poor-in-money-but-rich-in-style, brilliant, Radcliffe girlfriend Jennifer Cavilleri (Ali Macgraw): “See Jenny – you can dish it out but you can’t take it.”

(Not the most memorable line of the script, that being the oft-quoted but always – in my mind – ridiculous, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Really? I’ve always thought that the line should have been, “Love means knowing when to say you’re sorry” – which is pretty much whenever you’ve hurt your partner’s feelings. But I digress.)

Anyway. Back to dishing or, more specifically, dishes. (See how a creative’s mind works? In a completely non-linear, but not necessarily nonsensical way. There is a line here, it just curves, loops, and ends with a flourish.) Usually, I spend about five minutes a day thinking about dishes. And that’s when I’m loading or unloading the dishwasher. But occasionally, when I’m on a step stool trying to get down the “good glasses” from the cabinet, I’ll find something in the way back that I’d forgotten we even had; or sometimes, a movie or TV show that takes place in an earlier time will feature a piece of my childhood table history; or, once in a while, a memory of past dishes even inspires me to create (this post included). To wit:

I grew up with a pattern of mixing bowls made by Pyrex – in fact, everyone I knew at that time seemed to grow up with that same pattern. The bowls came in a set of four graduated sizes and featured a design of a farmer and his wife surrounded by sheafs of wheat, ears of corn, and roosters. The set included two bowls with an opaque white background and turquoise print and two in the reverse. Imagine my not-exactly-surprise when I moved in with B. to find that he had the same set (this one was acquired at a yard sale along the way of his single life).

B. and I kept those bowls until the last one, a white bowl with the design pretty much worn off, broke (an end to a kind of era). Happily, I was reminded of them just a few days ago, when we were watching The Way We Were. There, as Katie Morosky (Barbra Streisand) was making a brisket dinner in her late-1940s-early-1950s kitchen, a farmer-and-wife bowl made an appearance. “Did you see that?” we said at the same time. Bowled over.

Another dish-upon-a-star memory? Corningware was famous for its signature white casserole / baking dishes adorned with a simple blue pattern of three cornflowers (that cornflower blue is still my favorite shade of blue to this day). The simplicity of blue in varying shades against white – long a classic pattern on everything from world-famous Delftware from the Netherlands; to centuries-old Chinese porcelain, featuring a rich cobalt blue design on a white background; to contemporary tableware with a French Country motif – always appeals to my eye. But that adorable triple cornflower, my first real memory of what was cooking in the kitchen (the pattern made its first appearance when I did, in 1958), will always have a special place in my heart. The same way that my cornflower blue Crayola crayon is always the first one worn down to a nub in the big 64-count box. (Don’t judge me – I’m a creative.)

One more for the dishlist: My fascination with mermaids – and my inspiration for writing a novel about them – dates back to my childhood of reading storybooks with wonderful illustrations of these enchanting beings. But another inspiration came from a set of dishes I remember from when I was a little girl. These plates and cups were my grandmother’s set and were actually made of inexpensive (at least when she acquired them) Depression glass. They were a clear sea-blue in color with a bubble texture, and I loved to look through them and imagine I was seeing the world through a mermaid’s eyes. Looking glass, indeed.

These days it often seems as if dishes have just become a means to an end (hurry up and grab something to eat and go – or let’s just eat directly from the takeout containers), but taking the time to look back at these pieces, if only in my mind, reminds me a little bit of where I came from. Not only taking the time to look back but maybe taking the time to slow down and enjoy.

On that note, my dish wish for you all, as we approach the holiday season, is that your table be filled with good friends, good food, and extra portions of love and laughter.

Dish it out.

©2025 Claudia Grossman