twice-baked sweet potatoes

Welcome back, gang. Sorry about the slightly late post. I've been writing these from the office and this morning I had a bit more clickin' and draggin' to do than usual.

For those who are unaware, I'm currently working in television, and the show I'm on wraps in October. So this won't be a problem at that time, when I will be very unemployed.

Let's not think about that right now. Until then, we're just gonna roll with the punches. Today, we'll be exploring one of my favorite ingredients: the humble potato. Specifically, red garnet sweet potatoes, one of my all-time favorite vegan staples. Easily found in almost any grocery store and packed with beta carotene, these things are both cheap and hearty enough to get you and your thousands of children through the winter.

Usually, with these tubers, I tend to keep it simple; why overcomplicate objective excellence? You can literally just stick a couple in your oven, bake 'em off, pop 'em open, add a little salt, and find yourself with a hot, nutritious treat. But since we'll be doing this batch together, we're going to kick this party up a couple notches with my signature twice-baked sweet potatoes, an innovative twist on an American classic.

The list of ingredients for this one is surprisingly scant.

red garnet sweet potatoes

olive oil

unsweetened non-dairy milk (i like soymilk)

onion powder

garlic powder

fresh sage

fresh rosemary

salt

pepper

This recipe does not hide behind a complicated array of obscure components. The magic here lies instead in the preparation, and in the natural, inherent goodness these little bombs of love house within.

First, you're going to slice each one in half. This cuts down the total cooking time and also helps us achieve our desired boat shape without all the fuss that comes with trying to chop potatoes that are already soft. Once you can see what they look like on the inside, toss them in a bowl with some olive oil and salt and arrange them on your baking sheet like so.

I probably should have told you to preheat your oven to 375° at the very beginning. Just for the official record, I do not think it's a good idea to read along with these recipes for the first time live as you cook them. But you're all adults. I can't make these decisions for you. While these guys heat the fuck up, let's go ahead and prepare the herbs.

There's not a lot to say about this part. If your sage leaves are lush and abundant, you can roll them into a chiffonade around the pieces of rosemary and cut them both up that way. Mine were pretty tiny, so I just went in with my big knife and free-balled it. The only real goal here is to make them as small as possible. You want all of those tasty, fragrant herb juices to really saturate into the mash.

After about forty-five minutes, the insides should be soft enough to scoop out. As you can see, mine are oozing potato syrup. This is what you want. It means the sweet part of the sweet potato has begun to caramelize.

Grab your spoon and collect the innards; take deliberate care not to poke through the skin. It's okay if you're not hitting bottom on these things. A thin layer of un-mashed potato helps our boats maintain their structural integrity.

Collect the entrails in a bowl. Put down the spoon for now and find a fork. We're going in.

Once they look a little like baby food, you're ready to add your liquid ingredients. You don't need to go crazy here with either. A few tablespoons of oil is fine, just enough to mimic the luscious effect of non-vegan cow butter. Squish it in with your fork. Add the soymilk slowly. You do not want to over-encumber the mash. We're not making soup, not this time.

Here are the spices. They're ready to go. Set your fork aside and pick up a spatula. It's time to do some folding.

Honestly, you could probably just stop here and just eat this as is. But, again, for you, we're gonna make these real nice and special. Let's go the extra mile, together.

We'll take our doctored-up potato guts and portion them evenly into each boat. I try to bulk this stuff up as much as possible with the soymilk but I generally end up being a bit short and am left with one or two empty shells. I usually just eat those while the rest are baking. If your oven isn't lit up anymore, set it to 375° and put them back in for one final round of incubation.

When it's over, they're gonna look a little something like this. Bask in the glow of your accomplishment. You've earned every second of this sweet, sweet glory.

Everybody at work seems to think they look pretty gross, and after all is said and done I feel like I kind of agree with them. Lumps, bumps, humps, and wrinkles aside, however, most of them seem to think they taste pretty good in spite of it all.

Is it too early to say that these would be a great addition to your holiday table? I have no idea, I still feel pretty tone-deaf when I hang out on this part of the internet. What I DO know is that my supervisor has spent the last fifteen minutes watching me struggle to think of a way to send you all off for the afternoon, so we're just gonna leave it at that and call it a day.

Happy...uh...Halloween? I think that's the next holiday coming up this year. They're orange. Make the connection. I'm not your fucking mom.