Late Night Sweet Potato Pie

My grandfather

My grandfather was a well-respected man and a hard-working father of five children. This in turn caused him to be a no-nonsense, gruff, and imposing authoritative figure. I was intimidated by him; thus, I tried to always keep my distance, trying to avoid being the possible center of attention of his wrath and judgment. He always seemed angry, and his words- which were always negative in nature, quite frankly, stung.

I watched as his condition worsened over the years. This large, intimidating man became blind in one eye from diabetes and suffered from burns on his feet from dropping a pot of boiling water. Still, he never cracked, revealing his true emotions of showing his hurt or pain, instead remained stone-faced. As I got older into my teens and he got older as well, his demeanor softened.

During the last few months of his life, I remember the eerie feeling that there wasn’t long left. In an old journal entry, I remember recounting one of my visits to him in the nursing home with my grandmother, that he had been actually happy to see me.

Live Journal Entry from March 5, 2011:

I visited him today alongside my grandma. It was the first day in years I had ever gone with my grandma without my brother or anyone being there with us. It was nostalgic, because I remember when I was smaller I would ride around with her and we would go places, but ever since things got tough and I got more distant that never happened anymore.

The visit was nice, we brought flowers and my granddad actually smiled at me telling me that I finally got out of the house. He actually smiled, which was touching because he was always grumpy, rarely laughed or smiled, unless something really funny happened. Visiting made me realize that they're just like kids, the old people I mean. The man that's in the room with my granddad was watching this kid channel and it all was just...I can't even explain. When I left I my grandma made me shake my granddad's hand, it was so cold, weak, fragile, even though he was fine. I almost started crying, it was just too much for me.

My grandfather passed away in early July 2011, a few days away from my seventeenth birthday. It was one of the most emotional times of my life. Dealing with death so close in the family was new. Despite what I witnessed while growing up of my grandfather and what made me fear him, the good memories still remained. Sometimes I see him in my dreams in the passenger side of our car, riding along sitting quietly, not saying a word.

Sweet Potato Pie

It was the night before Thanksgiving. The room was enveloped in warmth from the wood stove as we gathered around the kitchen table at my grandparent’s house. I watched my grandfather make a favorite of mine– sweet potato pie. I don’t have much memory of the year, if this captured memory is the one before his passing, but would be one I would always remember.

That night I watched him make the pies with awe. Because of his blindness, he needed help at times from my grandmother. I watched as they mashed bright orange boiled sweet potato flesh with forks and added in the necessary ingredients for a tasty homemade pie. Sweet potato will always be one of my favorites. The taste brings back the warmth and goodness of Thanksgivings spent with the family and also brings me back to that night at my grandparent's house watching them work together to make pies for the holiday.

When I moved to the Midwest, I quickly noticed that sweet potato pie wasn’t an important staple of Thanksgiving. Instead, it was pumpkin pie, which I found to be fickle when it came to taste as it seemed harder for people to get it right. Sometimes the taste was too much and other times it was clearly lacking flavor at all. For my first Thanksgiving in Wisconsin, I whipped up two sweet potato pies in an attempt to be comforted by a soul food delicacy that warmed my soul as well as introduce my husband’s family to my Southern roots. Sweet potato pie for me was a dessert that was an integral part of Thanksgiving dinner as it is for many black families in the South.

Thanksgiving 2019 I went to my first gathering with my husband at his aunt’s house who was hosting. I was proud of the pie I carried, hoping to introduce the treat to those who had surprisingly declared they had never tried it before (like my mother-in-law).

No one tried it.

Except my husband's aunt. I was extremely disappointed. Even to this day, I’ll never forget the feelings of dejection I felt at my rejected pie. Many people said they were full, someone else declared they didn’t like sweet potatoes. I tried not to take it to heart because I had tried their food out of curiosity, despite it not being what I was used to– flavor and spice-wise. Also, because the second pie waiting at our apartment was damn good. My husband and I ended up devouring it later that night while playing Black Ops 4 online with his brothers. I remember regretting not bringing the neglected pie back with me. Because if no one else could appreciate the gesture, then I didn’t mind being the only to.

My Grandfather's Pies

A good sweet potato pie for me is one that is not purchased from the store. Mass-produced pies have a hit or miss flavor, the consistency is also super smooth which I find I dislike when it comes to sweet potato pie. I've just come to love the semi-stringy consistency with homemade pies.

I also think a good pie should stand alone without any add-ons such as whipped cream.

My grandfather never used special tools when making his pies, opting for a fork and bowl. The sweet potatoes were also boiled whole, not baked. Much of the ingredient amounts were eyeballed such as the spices, sugar, vanilla extract and evaporated milk to taste and then at last eggs mixed into the orange starchy goodness. The filling was then poured into frozen pie shells and baked. The pies were delicious. And that one night I suppose piqued my curiosity in wanting to be involved in making pie. I still remember the first year I made them, my mother, grandmother and I in the kitchen hashing out the ingredients and instructions from memory for making the filling. We didn't need some flowery written recipe using food processors to achieve maximum smoothness and clever pairings of spices to enhance the flavor.

It was all about love. It was about simplicity.

Grandpa’s Southern Sweet Potato Pie

The original recipe is pretty much eyeball everything with the addition of 1-2 eggs. I came up with a written recipe that could be replicated with amounts that mimic adding ingredients without measuring. I also oven-roasted the potatoes instead of boiling for safety reasons due to having a toddler running around who also loves to climb.

This recipe yields one pie. Double to make two, and so on.

Ingredients

• 1 Frozen pie crust
• 2 Medium sweet potatoes
• 1/2 Stick of butter (4 tbsp)
• 3/4 tsp Cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp Nutmeg
• 1/8 tsp Cloves
• 1/8 tsp Ginger
• 1/4 cup white Sugar (up to 1/2cup)
• 1/4 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp Vanilla extract*
• 1/2 cup Evaporated milk
• 2 eggs (room temp)

1. Wash and dry potatoes, then place on a lined baking sheet. Roast potatoes at 400°F for 50-60minutes or until fork tender. / Or put in a pot of boiling water, and boil until fork tender.

2. Let the potatoes cool a bit before removing the skin and adding butter. Mix until butter is all melted and then add the rest of the ingredients and mix until combined.

3. Pour mixture into pie crust and bake for 55-60 minutes. Let rest for about 2 hours before serving.

*Note: Of course while preparing to make this I realized I didn’t have any vanilla extract. I ended up substituting with 1/2 tsp honey and 1/2 tsp maple syrup. The taste ended up being subtle and not too sweet. My husband and I ate the pie within two days.

I can be quite a perfectionist when it comes to baking, and the pie I ended up making wasn’t really photo-worthy, but it reminded me of the affirmation part of the Nourished Challenge: Remember that your imperfections are what make you...you– perfect. Always stay true to yourself and never second guess.

Despite the rough look of the pie I made, it was authentic and the taste was there. I finally have a recipe based on my grandfather’s pie from that night in order to be passed down to my own children. When my son gets old enough to understand, I’ll recount my memory of my grandfather making sweet potato pie with my grandmother from that night, as we carry on the pie tradition of Thanksgiving.