Candied Yams with Marshmallows

Let's address the elephant in the room: these aren't yams. True yams are starchy African tubers you'll rarely find in American supermarkets. What we call candied yams are sweet potatoes, and they've gone by the wrong name since the slave trade brought both the vegetable and its misapplied moniker to Southern shores. History is complicated. The dish, thankfully, is not.

This casserole represents everything I love about American regional cooking. It's honest, unapologetic, and completely unconcerned with European approval. Some food writers dismiss it as too sweet, too simple, too pedestrian for serious consideration. Those writers have never watched a grandmother's face light up when this dish appears on the holiday table.

The technique matters more than people realize. You want sweet potatoes that hold their shape while becoming fork-tender, swimming in a glaze that's reduced enough to coat but not so thick it turns to candy. The marshmallows need watching. Thirty seconds separates golden perfection from blackened disaster. Pay attention at the end and you'll be rewarded with that satisfying give when your spoon breaks through the toasted crust into tender, butter-soaked sweetness below.

I've served this dish to French chefs who arrived skeptical and left asking for the recipe. American food, when done with care, needs no apology.