The Great Yam Tragedy

Each year, the multi-cultural team here holds its own Thanksgiving in which everyone has a chance to give thanks for things that have happened throughout the year, and we share in a meal together. As an American, I was asked if I could make the mysterious yams that they hear are a part of American Thanksgiving. I was all too happy to bring some U.S. culture into the mix, so I quickly agreed and set to work.

I purchased many a sweet potato, and started the baking process (in my tiny oven, a 'play oven' as Maz calls it, I can only fit four or five potatoes at a time, and I'm cooking for 76 people). Imagine my absolute heartache and subsequent mourning when I cut into the first potato and the inside is not a vibrant orange, but rather a dull YELLOW (though it smells like sweet potato). "What is this?!" I think to myself, hoping it is just a fluke as I dig into the next one. No luck. It too is yellow. A dozen potatoes later I give up the ghost, and resolve myself to having yellow yams, which unfortunately look too similar to regular mashed potatoes. Since these people don't really know yams, I feel I have let them down and they will forever think yams are the same as plain mashed potatoes.

For this, America, I am truly sorry. You know I love yams, and I would never intentionally dishonor such a staple of the Thanksgiving spread. Oh well. I suppose they can always see them on TV.