what a sweet potato taught me

What’s Up, My Eaters!

I hope you’re doing well and that everything you needed from this week showed up right on time (or at least didn’t ghost you). Summer break is officially over, and school is starting. I don’t know about you, but I am ready. I loved spending all that time with my boy this summer, but—whew—it is time.

This week, I want to tell you about the day a sweet potato gave me a life lesson I never saw coming. It was a turning point in my culinary journey, and honestly, I’m still learning from that root vegetable.

🥔 The Sweet Potato Incident

Years ago, my sister got me my first real catering gig—a Thanksgiving luncheon for her office. I was incredibly grateful, but I also felt this crushing weight of pressure. I didn’t want to embarrass her… or myself… or my barely-existent business.

Gwen (my friend and kitchen ride-or-die) and I sat down to create a solid menu. I remember it like it was yesterday: roasted turkey with gravy, pecan-crusted green beans, homemade cranberry sauce, and—wait for it—twice-baked sweet potatoes.

Thanksgiving has always been the most meaningful holiday for me, so I felt extra committed to nailing every dish. Gwen and I worked all night after already working all day, grinding to get everything just right.

Everything came out beautifully. The turkey was moist, the green beans had that perfect crunch, and the cranberry sauce was tart but not too sassy. But those sweet potatoes? A hot mess.

After the second bake, they came out of the oven looking like a tray of tired pancakes. They had collapsed like their spirit had left the building. I was horrified. There was no way I was about to serve those on my first big gig. So naturally, I made the dramatic decision to toss them and start over.

But Gwen hit me with a hard “nope.”
She said it was too much good food to waste and we didn’t have time to remake them anyway. If we did, we’d be late, and late caterers are basically culinary criminals. I argued. I pouted. But she stood firm.

We packed up, headed to the office, set up the buffet, and let the office manager know lunch was ready. People started lining up. My sister said a blessing over the food, and the crowd started digging in.

I, however, could not stay. I was in full drama mode over those potatoes and didn’t want to be around when people inevitably discovered I was a fraud. So, we left.

We returned after lunch to clean up, bracing for disaster—and wouldn’t you know it? There was not a crumb left. Not a lonely green bean. Not a streak of cranberry sauce on a plate.

But here’s the real twist:
Everyone raved about the sweet potatoes.
Yes, those sweet potatoes. The ones I nearly yeeted into the trash. The dish I thought had ruined everything was actually the star of the show.

The whole room came alive with compliments. People went out of their way to say how much they loved the food—and most of all, the sweet potatoes.

I was grateful. I was floored. And I was humbled.

🍠 So, What Did I Learn from a Sweet Potato?

Here are the lessons that little orange root taught me:

1. Be kind to yourself.
I spent six hours beating myself up and talking to myself like I was a kitchen disaster. Turns out, I was actually a hit. Don’t be your own worst enemy—it’s exhausting, and it’s usually inaccurate.

2. It’s usually not as bad as you think.
We are our toughest critics. I saw failure; they saw flavor. Give yourself some grace and remember your perspective isn’t always the full picture.

3. Don’t despise humble beginnings.
This was my first catering gig ever. Of course everything wasn’t perfect. That’s how we grow. Every pro starts as a rookie with a bag of doubts and a prayer.

4. The right people matter.
Surround yourself with folks who will save you from yourself. Gwen kept me from making a big mistake, and my sister believed in me enough to get me the gig in the first place. They were the real MVPs.

5. Know your ingredients.
Turns out, sweet potatoes don’t behave like white potatoes. Their starch content is different, and now I always think about that before trying something new. Learn your ingredients like you learn your friends—some of them are flaky, and some of them just collapse under pressure.

6. Take risks—but make them calculated.
I had made every dish on that menu before… except for those sweet potatoes. That was not the time to experiment. If I’d practiced the recipe beforehand, I would have known how they’d react and could have adjusted. Don’t gamble during your debut.

🎤 Final Thoughts

We all have moments that shape us. I never would’ve guessed that sweet potatoes—an ingredient I’m honestly not even that crazy about—would teach me so much. But here we are.

My hope is that by reading this, you feel a little more equipped to face your own moments of growth—even if they’re covered in marshmallows and staring back at you from a baking tray.

I’ll see you next week when I’ll wrap up my series on supporting local with an introduction to one of my favorite farms. And don’t forget—you can always come see me and the team every Saturday at the Peachtree City Farmers Market.