Cheesy Mashed Sweet Potato Cakes

Late September, and the Lowcountry is beginning its fall turn — the marsh grass gilding, the light shifting, the tourists thinning, the city exhaling after a summer of heat and visitors and the particular performance of beauty that Charleston considers its professional obligation. The exhaling is mine too: the library in its fall rhythm, the writing at the desk every morning, the cooking every evening, the two-person household that has become, I discover, not lonely but intimate.

Robert and I have dinner together every night, and the dinners have become the conversations we never had when the house was full. We talk about the children. We talk about the garden. We talk about Mama. We talk about the books I am reading and the things he is building and the particular pleasure of growing old together, which is not the pleasure of youth (the excitement, the discovery) but the pleasure of the well-worn: the comfort of knowing another person so completely that the knowing is not a thought but a condition, like breathing, like cooking, like the twenty-four-year habit of setting two places at a table and sitting down to eat.

Carrie is sending photographs from Kyoto every day — temples, gardens, street food, her dorm room, the classroom where she studies Japanese literature in Japanese, which is the achievement of a girl who carved kanji into a pumpkin at sixteen and who is now reading Murakami in the original. The photographs are the postcards of a life being built, each one a small window into the country that Carrie has entered and that is, I can see from the photographs, entering Carrie.

I made shrimp pilau — the Lowcountry rice dish that is the weeknight meal of two people who do not need a feast but who deserve more than a sandwich. The pilau was fragrant with the spices that West Africa gave the Lowcountry, and the giving is the history, and the history is the food, and the food is the Tuesday night, and the Tuesday night is the life.

The pilau was already in our bones that Tuesday—the spice, the rice, the history folded into every bite—but it was the sweet potatoes alongside it that Robert reached for twice, the ones I’d pressed into cakes and pan-fried until the edges went crisp and the cheese inside pulled into something molten and consoling. There is a particular sweetness to fall in the Lowcountry, and these little cakes carry it: humble enough for a weeknight, warm enough for the kind of dinner where two people sit down and talk until the candle burns low. If you are setting two plates tonight, set them for these.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 2 (4 cakes)

Ingredients

2 medium sweet potatoes (about 1 lb total), peeled and cubed
1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
2 tablespoons sour cream
1 egg, lightly beaten
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons thinly sliced scallions, for serving

Instructions

Boil the sweet potatoes. Place the cubed sweet potatoes in a medium saucepan and cover with cold salted water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook until completely tender, about 12–14 minutes. Drain thoroughly and return to the pot for 1 minute over low heat to steam off any excess moisture.
Mash and season. Mash the sweet potatoes until smooth. Stir in the cheddar, sour cream, egg, flour, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Mix until just combined. The mixture should be thick enough to hold a shape; if it feels too soft, add flour one teaspoon at a time.
Form the cakes. Lightly flour your hands and a small plate. Divide the mixture into 4 equal portions. Shape each into a round cake about 3/4 inch thick. Set the formed cakes on the floured plate and refrigerate for 5 minutes to firm up slightly.
Pan-fry until golden. Heat the butter and olive oil together in a large skillet over medium heat until the butter foams and subsides. Add the cakes without crowding. Cook undisturbed for 4–5 minutes, until the bottoms are deep golden and a crust has formed. Flip gently with a wide spatula and cook 3–4 minutes more on the second side.
Rest and serve. Transfer to a warm plate and let rest for 2 minutes. Top with scallions and serve immediately alongside your main—or on their own with a soft-boiled egg and a green salad.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cheesy Mashed Sweet Potato Cakes — The Tuesday Night That Tastes Like Home