Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Yammed



Photo Credit: S. R. Karfelt




Deep into edits for my second book, interspersed with moments of simply pretending to be editing, I’m – as always – attempting to eat healthily. Piles of veggies, fruit, and the standard issue morning oatmeal make up the bulk of my menu, but due to the fact that I’m near-sighted and spend far too much time turtling my neck towards the computer screen, I go through days where soft food is a better choice. Turtling leads to teeth clenching which leads to a sore jaw which leads to the inability to chew mountains of fresh greens.

Spinach smoothes are too cold for this time of year, especially since I’m too busy writing to waste time drying my hair. Frozen wet hair on your head doesn’t put you in the mood for frozen wet lunch. My favorite back-up is yams. This predilection for yams seriously grosses out at least two of my beta readers, but they don’t understand yams like I do. You have to cook them right and they are magical.

Never EVER microwave a yam. That is just gross. You wrap it in foil and bake it. I prefer 350 degrees for about an hour and a half, or longer. When done properly you can squeeze the sides and they’ll be super-soft. Baking them like this makes them very sweet. I never put anything sweet on them, because that’s just gross. I prefer cinnamon and a tablespoon of chopped up pecans, maybe even a few dried cranberries. You can add butter if you must, but if it has been baked long enough it won’t be necessary. 

Another beautiful way to cook yams is to slice one thinly, layer it on a foil-lined pan with a bit of olive oil. Brush a bit more olive oil over the yam slices, and maybe a sprinkle of sea salt, and cook it half to death. Usually I cook it at 400 degrees, though I can’t really tell you how long, about 20-40 minutes. I don’t do math. I just keep checking it. Usually it is done when some of the thinner pieces have been seriously burned.

Photo Credit: S. R. Karfelt


Do you feel sorry for my Dear Hubby after reading this post? Don’t, he’s horribly spoiled and he never eats yams. By the way I do mean yams, not sweet potatoes, though technically I think they’re used interchangeably. I know the difference, use yams if I’ve enticed you to try these recipes. I use that term loosely, because recipe usually means math – measurements and time and all – and that’s just gross.








No comments:

Post a Comment

If you can hear me, verbose on me. Or throw glitter. Wotever.