A few years ago, the tall man planted a sprouting sweet potato in our garden. It made a vine and after a year we dug up three or four tubers. One must have stayed behind, as a new year brought another vine and this time it flowered...
... betraying it's Morning Glory roots.
Yesterday's crop was somewhat of a revelation.
Missing from the picture is the largest one - which we cooked last night, wrapped in foil and nestled in the coals of our supper fire.
With melted butter, salt and pepper, it was fluffy and nutty and utterly yummy.