Purple Sweet Potatoes

I made purple sweet potatoes today.  I baked them, as that’s the simplest way to make them with a clingy nursling.

Simon watched as I scraped the purple out of the skins, onto a plate.  “YUCK!” he said.  “I don’t have to eat that!”

“Simon, it’ll be tasty.”

“No, it will make me yucky.”

He left the kitchen at a run.  I’ll try him on it again later.  Maybe next year.

Samantha, in the meantime, was hollering from the table.  “What is it?  Bring some to me!  Bring me my food!”

She finally found a more polite way to speak and receive her lunch.  She eyed the plate as I set it down.

“So, what do you think?  It’s purple sweet potatoes.”

She stared at the plate some more, mouth twitching.  She finally grinned, “Um, it’s too much purple.”

And boy howdy is it ever.  It’s the most purple I’ve ever seen on a plate that wasn’t a finger painting.

The girl child gave it a go anyway, and declared it delicious.  It is thoroughly sweet potato, and definitely delicious.  I’m going to have to find a more attractive way to serve it, though.  Even in the best light, it makes me think of brightly colored school paste.