Sweet Potatoes



I had a strange urge last night to make sweet potatoes – strange only because I don’t think much about these tubers and until last night, they had not entered my cooking repertoire. Jacob was unenthusiastic. “Isn’t that the orange stuff from Thanksgiving? Don’t people throw sweet crap on there, like marshmallows?” I reassured him that I was not one to throw sweet crap around flippantly, but would indeed go there if necessary. Krista, with whom I can usually share culinary excitement, spoke quite coolly about mashing them with salt and butter, like they were just a humdrum part of the routine.

Despite Jacob’s reservations and Krista’s offhandedness, sweet potatoes had me hooked. I picked up two one-poundish specimens on my way home. Peeled them, chopped them in chunks, stuck them in a pot of salted water and watched. They boiled orange, frothed orange, spit orange geysers all over the stove. I was intrigued.

Sweet potatoes are not potatoes. They are the large tuberous root of a vine native to Central America. This vine is related to the morning glory family, not the nightshade family from which white potatoes, eggplant and tomatoes spring. Nor are sweet potatoes yams – actually, there are two common varieties of sweet potato in the United States: a pale sweet potato and a darker-skinned variety we mistakenly call yam. The pale sweet potato has thin, light yellow skin and pale yellow flesh. It is dry and crumbly, much like a baking potato. The darker sweet potato variety has thicker, dark skin and orange, sweet flesh that stays moist. What sweet potatoes ARE is chock full of dietary fiber, complex carbohydrates and vitamins A and C. Carbs, yes it is true, but not without nutritional worth.

When they were soft, I strained them (briefly considering sweet potato juice – think of the vitamins. The vitamins!), and dumped them in the Kitchen Aid with a generous amount of butter, a little salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg. Oh, and an egg, because Epicurious.com told me to. I may have been a bit over zealous with the whipping. After Jacob and I had wiped up little orange chunks that had spun wildly out of the mixer and onto the floor, the wall, the stove, the no-man’s-land behind the stove, and god knows where else, I settled down and beat them on a much more manageable level. Then into the oven for 25 minutes or so.

They came out looking slightly puffed and toasty brown around the edges. I served them with an earthy Merlot and a pork loin that had marinated in Krista’s concoction of fresh rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil and balsamic, and then was seared and oven roasted.

There is something in sweet potatoes’ ruddy golden glow and wafting homey aroma that rivals the best of comfort food – and I mean the level of apple pie, macaroni and cheese, and chocolate chip cookies. Their texture is smooth and moist – no lumps or need for gravy, unlike their albino cousins. Their sweetness is unmistakable, but light and beguiling, particularly when paired with sweet’s classic protein partner, pork. They could also offer an inviting bed for a spicier partnership, like curry or cumin, and could stand up to the heartiest of stews, roasts, risottos and goulashes.

Jacob enjoyed our sweet potatoes tentatively, though no one would say he is a convert. His is a savory palate. I was quietly delighted with their warm color and flavor, and will look forward to our next meeting on November 27th.

Posted: Fri - November 14, 2003 at 03:09 PM      

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