By Memorial Day itself. I put on a clean shirt and drove to the parade in Burlington — a small affair, high school band, VFW members, a few floats. I stood on the sidewalk with my hands in my pockets and watched the veterans walk by. The World War II men are almost gone now. The Korea men are old. The Vietnam men — my men, my cohort, the ones who went and came back and never talked about it — we're in our late sixties now, gray and thick and walking with the various limps and aches that fifty years of carrying shrapnel and memory will give you.
I didn't march. I never march. I stand on the sidewalk and I watch and I remember and then I go home and make something for dinner and that's my Memorial Day. Helen doesn't push. She learned thirty years ago that the last week of May has a weight for me that has nothing to do with barbecues and everything to do with names I don't say aloud.
I made burgers. Simple, American, appropriate. Ground beef, salt, pepper, a hot grill, and the kind of summer evening that makes you believe the world is fundamentally good even when you know better. Helen made potato salad — her mother's recipe, with mustard and dill and hard-boiled eggs. We ate on the porch. Frost lay between our chairs. The flag on the mailbox moved in the breeze. A quiet holiday. The best kind.
The garden is thriving. The peas are producing — I picked the first handful yesterday and ate them standing in the row, warm from the sun, sweet in the way that only garden peas are sweet. Store peas are a different vegetable entirely. They share a name and nothing else. The tomatoes are settling in. The beans are climbing. The zucchini, which I planted against my better judgment because Helen asked, is already showing the aggressive tendencies that will result in August's annual crisis of too much zucchini and not enough neighbors to give it to.
A man at the parade recognized me. Former student, class of 1998. He shook my hand and said, "Mr. Bergstrom, you changed my life." I said, "I doubt that." He said, "You taught me to read Hemingway." I said, "Hemingway taught you. I just introduced you." He laughed. I drove home. Some days you're reminded that thirty-eight years in a classroom left marks on people, and the marks were good ones. That's enough. More than enough.
The burgers were already done by the time I thought about something to put alongside them—something that felt earned rather than fussy, something the grill could handle without ceremony. Helen’s potato salad was accounted for, but I wanted one more thing with char on it, something that tasted like summer and effort and not much else. These grilled sweet potato skewers were exactly right for that kind of evening: honest ingredients, open flame, nothing to overthink while you’re still carrying the weight of a parade and the names you didn’t say out loud.
Grilled Sweet Potato Skewers
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 tablespoon maple syrup or honey
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
- Fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped, for garnish
- Wooden or metal skewers (if wooden, soaked in water 30 minutes)
Instructions
- Parboil the sweet potatoes. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Add the sweet potato cubes and cook for 5–6 minutes, until just barely fork-tender but not soft. Drain and let cool slightly. This step ensures the centers cook through on the grill without burning the outside.
- Make the glaze. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, maple syrup, smoked paprika, garlic powder, salt, pepper, and cayenne (if using). Add the parboiled sweet potato cubes and toss gently until evenly coated.
- Skewer the potatoes. Thread the sweet potato cubes onto skewers, leaving a small gap between each piece to allow even heat circulation.
- Preheat the grill. Heat an outdoor grill or grill pan to medium-high heat (around 400°F). Lightly oil the grates.
- Grill the skewers. Place skewers on the grill and cook for 12–15 minutes, turning every 3–4 minutes, until the sweet potatoes are nicely charred on the edges and cooked through. Brush with any remaining glaze during the last few minutes.
- Serve. Remove from the grill and transfer to a platter. Garnish with fresh parsley or cilantro. Serve immediately alongside burgers, grilled meats, or as a stand-alone side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 280mg