The aroma of
cinnamon and vanilla drifted from the kitchen and floated to the nostrils of
hungry dinner guests. Four, five, maybe
six sweet potatoes were cut in chunks, sprinkled with brown sugar, and shared
the pot with a half stick of butter. Mama Lula’s candied yams were the main
reason family gathered at her house every holiday.
Mama Lula
was our longest living family matriarch at 102 years old. When she expired, so
did the recipe for the best candied yams this side of the Mississippi River. I
gave my best attempt at re-creating the famous recipe. My yams were diced just
right, sprinkled with flavor and served with love. BUT, my yams were presented
differently.
In this era social
media and people posting everything from family activities to the food they
eat, I fell in sync. I posted a picture of my hot off the stove syrupy candied
yams. I called my mom and told her to look at the photo of my yummy yams. Her
inquisition began…
“Did you
cook them with a lot of butter and sugar?”
“Of course,
that’s the only way to make them.”
“Are you
making them for those who may be interested in becoming a diabetic?”
Pregnant
pause, with a wide grin, “Not specifically, no.”
I had no
intentions on infringing upon the dietary needs of anyone wishing to abstain
from sweet stuff. The goal was to prepare a soul food meal for the Holiday, one
that would please the palate and leave guests satisfied. Palates were pleased,
guests were satisfied and there were no casualties.
Sweet
potatoes transformed into candied yams do not equal a death sentence. It does
add humor to a family dinner as it is turned into a murder mystery game. Love
and laughter filled the room as the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla dissipated.
The pot once filled with chunks of sweet potatoes and melted butter only held remnants
of the diabetic delight.
Have you
ever cooked-up a mystery at a family gathering?
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