Boniato Pie

Yesterday I made a feeble attempt to celebrate Thanksgiving in Paris.

Not being much of a meat eater, I wasn't about to tackle turkey or stuffing - but I did find myself feeling nostalgic for sweet potatoes and marshmallows come lunchtime. Unfortunately, other than carrots, there is a dearth of beta-carotene rich vegetables in France: no sweet potatoes, no cans of Libby's pumpkin puree. Quite honestly, I thought things were hopeless - until strolling through Tang Frères Asian supermarket, I spied a bin of starchy tubers labeled "patates douces".

Sweet potatoes! They looked a little unusual, rougher and darker skinned than typical American sweet potatoes. I should have been suspicious, but joy overwhelmed by judgement. I brought the tubers home, popped them in the combination microwave/oven, and roasted them for about an hour. I started preparing the crust, crumbling cinnamon cookies and melting butter.

I cannot describe my dismay when, peeling the potatoes, I discovered their flesh to be white. White! Not that appealing orange-hued, vitamin-rich texture that I love and had been joyfully anticipating. Unfazed, I began mixing in minute quantities of beet juice (don't ask me why I had this in my fridge - but yes, it is a well known "natural" food colorant). The puree started to more closely resemble the reddish shade I desired.

I added all the cream, sugar, eggs and spices that the recipe called for, but still it was lacking. The white sweet potatoes were starchier and less sweet than the one's for which my recipe is meant. So I added extra egg yolks - beautiful, bright-orange, omega-3-rich yolks from free-ranging french chickens. This helped the color a bit. More maple syrup, for sweetness and color. More cinnamon, for flavor and color. More beet juice, for color (fortunately, teaspoon-size quantities were effective at changing the color without altering the flavor. Still, my batter lacked a little umph. I looked around the kitchen, desperate at this point. Bourbon? Why not. Apple cider vinegar? That'll add some zing. Miraculously, it began to actually taste good.

I popped the pie into the tiny oven - hopeful, but with low expectations. After 50 minutes it was done, perhaps even over-baked (I still haven't gotten that Fahrenheit to Celsius conversion thing down pat), and somewhat resembled a sweet potato pie.


I tried to wait until after dinner, but couldn't go on and serve that pie to someone else without knowing that it was okay. I cut myself a slice. It was different. A thicker texture than pumpkin or sweet potato pie, more cake-like than custard, but yet nice. I may have managed to salvage the pastry disaster, but I wouldn't try and make it again.

I think that the tubers I picked up at the grocery store were of a variety called "boniato", "tropical sweet potato", or "Cuban sweet potato". According to the Cook's Thesaurus, these white-fleshed tubers are less sweet and less moist than typical sweet potatoes. Yep. So, add it to the list of reasons why I'll never want to settle-down in Paris... lack of American sweet potatoes. Those Franciliens don't know what they're missing.