As both a ceramicist and a chef, Lay Alston embodies the things we care about most: good food, shared with good people, and the belief that a thoughtfully made meal tastes even better on thoughtfully made pots.
Some of us first met Lay back in Asheville, when she cooked for Bite Me, the city’s newest and cheekiest little food festival. This summer, we were glad to support her first community dinner in her new home of San Diego. Lay has hosted plenty of dinners using her personal collection of East Fork pottery (yes, she’s a proud pothead), but this one was different: she served the meal in handmade bento boxes—made not just with her food, but her own pottery, too.
With the dinnerware already covered, we sent her a few pieces of our East Fork-exclusive glassware to round out the evening. After all, what’s good food without something good to drink?
Read on to get to know Lay in this #EastForkDoesMyDishes feature!
Introducing Lay Alston

You’re making your own dishware for the upcoming dinner—we love that! Can you tell us about your process? What inspires your forms, finishes, or glaze choices?
I’ve been dreaming about creating my own dinnerware since I started pottery in 2022. I thought to myself, wouldn't it be cool to design the actual canvas my food gets to live on? As ironic as it may sound, my process isn’t super structured—I kind of just let my creativity flow and follow what feels good. For one of the courses on this menu, I did intentionally design a bento box–style plate for the scallop kare and onigiri dish. It was inspired by this one onigiri restaurant I visited in Osaka that I still dream about—the way they presented the food elevated everything. I wanted to capture that same feeling. The glaze I chose feels warm and woody, reminiscent of traditional bento boxes, and it came out exactly how I envisioned it. Now I just want to keep going and make more.

What’s the story behind your upcoming dinner? From the menu to the mood, walk us through what you’re dreaming up.
This dinner is a love letter. To the land I now call home, to the journey it took to get here, and to the people and places that have poured into me along the way. When I dreamt up this experience, I knew I wanted to create a moment that felt grounding and intimate. The menu is a reflection of the african diaspora and asian cuisines, both of which influence my cooking. Rooted in seasonality—I've been sourcing local produce and seafood, letting the ingredients lead the way—each course has a story, either tied to a memory, a place, or a feeling I want to recreate.
The mood? Think soft light, warm breeze, laughter spilling across the table. It’s about slowing down. Savoring. Being present. I'm curating everything from the playlist to the plateware to reflect that energy. I want people to leave feeling held—like they’ve eaten something nourishing, yes, but also like they’ve been part of something meaningful. And they get a handcrafted ceramic dish that I made for them to take home, too.

We love that you’re using East Fork pieces alongside your own—how do you mix them at the table? Any favorite pairings (colors, forms, unexpected combos)?
East Fork’s Yuzu palette is chef’s kiss—the perfect balance of subtle and bold. It blended beautifully with our handcrafted dinnerware while still making a vibrant pop at the table. We used the cups to serve our first pairing: a mini matcha shot alongside squash blossom crab tempura. But my favorite pairing was the ice cream bowls for the palette cleanser—a umeshu and watermelon granita. The pink shaved ice inside that sunny yuzu bowl? I swear it made the cleanser taste even brighter. It's those little details that add so much joy to the experience.

What does your dream table setting look like? (And what’s being served?)
Oooooof, this question gets me so hype. I love sharing the deets here because every time I do, it brings me a little closer to the vision. Okay okay, hear me out: a long tablescape, 55 seats stretched alongside the pacific ocean. The waves adding flare to our playlist, the smell of salt in the air adding flavor to the menu. We open with a sound bowl session to ground us in the moment. Everything served on handmade ceramics, linen menus laid across each place setting, seasonal fruit as the centerpiece—ripe, vibrant, imperfectly perfect.
We're serving a crudo from fish caught just a few hours before, dressed in summer’s juiciest fruit. A salad that makes you forget you’re getting your greens in. And for dessert? Something that makes you want to start the whole dinner over: hojicha ice cream, a five-spiced donut, dulce de leche, and fermented peaches. Can we start planning?!

What do you hope your guests feel when they sit down at your table?
I want them to feel at home—like they’re meant to be there. I want them to feel welcomed, seen, and held—like this table was set with them in mind. I hope they sense the care in every detail—the way the light hits the plate, the way the menu tells a story, the way the seat next to them feels like a new or familiar friend.
More than just a meal, I want it to feel like a moment. Something they carry with them. A reminder that slowing down, gathering, being nourished—physically, emotionally, spiritually—is sacred. I want them to feel connected. To the land, to the food, to each other, and maybe even a little more to themselves.