You know your Thanksgiving sweet potatoes are yummy when they vanish before you get to eat them. I’m assuming these were tasty, since the pan was whistle-clean when I went for my first helping, only to be greeted by the fading fumes of molasses as a small child helped themselves for thirds, and, not coincidentally, lasts.
“Next year, kid,” I plotted, “Scorched earth. Uncle Mark’s making Ghost Pepper sweet taters. We’ll see who’s crying then.” (Probably me. The kid’s smart enough not to eat Ghost Pepper anything).
But that’s another story that hasn’t happened yet. This tale is about the molasses bourbon sweet potatoes I put together at barbecue Thanksgiving last year. Play your cards right, and you too can know the joy of kids demolishing the taters before you get so much as a taste of them. Play your cards intelligently, like I should have, and you’ll set some aside for yourself before serving the things. But I digress.
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