By Christmas Eve. The church service is tonight—the candlelight service, the one that fills every pew and the overflow chairs in the aisles and the people standing in the back, the service that New Hope AME does better than almost anyone in Birmingham because Calvin preaches Christmas the way he was born to preach it, with joy that is not naive, with hope that has passed through fire, with a love that has no room for sentimentality because sentimentality is what you have when you haven't been tested and Calvin has been tested and I have been tested and we are still here, and the candles go up in the dark and I love this night with everything I have.
Marcus loved Christmas Eve. He loved the service—the candles especially, because Marcus was always attracted to things that burned bright and brief. He would hold his candle with both hands and stare at it like it was telling him something. He was seventeen last Christmas Eve. He was seventeen and he was going to Tuskegee and he was going to be an engineer and he was going to have fifty more Christmases and he sat three rows behind me in the pew holding his candle with both hands. Ten months ago. Ten months.
I cooked all day today. The Christmas preparations: the sweet potato pies, the pound cake already done, the cornbread dressing that needs to go in tomorrow, the yams in their sugar and butter, the collard greens going already so they'll be perfect by noon tomorrow. The kitchen has been going since seven this morning and will not stop until the plates are cleared from Christmas dinner. This is the work. This is the love made visible. This is what I do with the grief—I put it in the food and I feed everyone I love and I go to church tonight and I hold my candle and I let the room be full of the people who are here and the memory of the one who isn't.
Tomorrow I turn forty-nine years old. On Christmas Day I was born and on Christmas Day I will cook and eat and be surrounded by my children and my husband and my family and I will set Marcus's place and I will light a candle for him at the table and I will go on. That is the plan. That is the only plan. You go on.
The yams I described — those are the ones in the pot right now, the ones going low and slow in their sugar and butter — but these applesauce sweet potatoes are what I set on the table for the children, the ones who need something a little gentler, a little brighter. Marcus loved sweet potatoes any way I made them. This recipe is easy enough that I can put it together even on a day when my hands are not quite steady, and it is sweet enough to feel like a small grace, which is exactly what Christmas dinner needs to be this year.
Applesauce Sweet Potatoes
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 3 pounds sweet potatoes (about 4 medium), peeled and cubed
- 1 cup unsweetened applesauce
- 3 tablespoons butter, softened
- 3 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 cup chopped pecans (optional, for topping)
Instructions
- Boil the potatoes. Place cubed sweet potatoes in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to medium and cook 18–22 minutes, until fork-tender. Drain well.
- Mash and combine. Return the drained sweet potatoes to the pot. Add the butter and mash until smooth. Stir in the applesauce, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Mix until fully combined and creamy.
- Adjust seasoning. Taste and add more brown sugar or cinnamon as needed. If the mixture is thicker than you like, stir in a splash of warm water or apple juice to loosen it slightly.
- Transfer and top. Spoon into a greased 2-quart baking dish. Scatter chopped pecans over the top if using.
- Warm before serving. If making ahead, cover and refrigerate. Reheat in a 325°F oven for 20–25 minutes until heated through. Serve warm alongside the rest of your Christmas spread.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 115mg