To my dear mid-century amoeba-shaped Tamac dish collection,

Ever since I stumbled across you on eBay and snapped you up as my own, I've admired the way your curves and indentations fit into my hands with a rightness that borders on sensexual.

I must admit that I worried your spring-singing "Avocado" coloring (so much more cheerful than your "Frosty Pine" or "Frosty Fudge" (!) sisters) would look less than toothsome as a backdrop for actual food.

But in practice you are a canvas of inspiration, turning everything from brownies to spaghetti into pure art.

I also love that your line of plates, bowls, and creamer detours for something called a "BBQ cup," a shallow vessel perfectly proportioned for saucy dippables.

Yes, my pretty Tamacs, you were well worth the many hours it took to track all of you down, and even the hefty price of postage. And how glad I am that you wended your way from your Perry, Oklahoma birthplace all the way to my Oakland, California kitchen and heart!