Sweet Potato Pudding

Tyler's wedding. Saturday, February 10, 2024. Midland, Texas.

I started the briskets at 3:45 AM Friday in Tyler's backyard. The rented smoker was massive — a 500-gallon offset that could handle all four packers at once, which eliminated the need for shifts and made the timeline significantly less terrifying. The oak caught on the first match. The smoke was blue within twenty minutes. I stood in the West Texas cold — thirty-eight degrees, clear sky, more stars than you can see in Houston — and I tended the fire and I thought about what fire means to this family. Mai's father tended a charcoal stove in Saigon. Huy grilled on a tiny hibachi in the Alief backyard. Mr. Clarence showed me the barrel smoker. James's father cooked goat over hardwood in Enugu. And now me, at 3:45 AM in Midland, smoking brisket for my son's wedding. Fire to fire to fire. The chain doesn't break.

The briskets were done by 6 PM Friday. Wrapped, resting in coolers. The ribs went on Saturday morning at 6 AM — five hours over pecan. James arrived at 8 AM and started the jollof rice in Tyler's kitchen. Mai commandeered the dining room table for spring roll assembly — she rerolled the ones that had traveled badly and added fresh herbs from a bag she'd packed from her garden. Lourdes's turon arrived via overnight cooler from Pearland. The kitchen looked like a catering operation run by the United Nations. Which it was.

The ceremony was at 2 PM at a small event hall in Midland. Bobby Tran got ordained online — Emma helped me get a Universal Life Church certification — and I officiated my son's wedding. I stood in front of a hundred people and I looked at Tyler and Jessica and I said the words that the certificate allowed me to say, and then I said three sentences that were my own: "Tyler, you are the best man I know, and I know you because I watched you become him. Jessica, you are the reason he became him. Take care of each other." Three sentences. Three minutes total. Everyone cried. Tyler cried. I did not cry. (I cried. But briefly and with dignity.)

The food. The brisket was the best I've ever made. I say this knowing I've said it before. But the coriander in the rub, the oak smoke in the West Texas air, the fourteen hours of patience — it all converged into something transcendent. Glen, Jessica's father, ate four slices and stood next to the smoker and said, "Bobby, I will remember this brisket for the rest of my life." I believed him. James's jollof rice was perfection. Mai's spring rolls were consumed in twenty-five minutes. The fusion sausage made people stop talking mid-sentence. The turon was the perfect ending. The table was Vietnamese and Nigerian and Filipino and Texan and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I'd seen it before at Emma's wedding, but this time it was bigger and better and my son was married and I was the man who said the words.

Lourdes’s turon was the official ending of that night — the one everyone’s talking about when they say “the food was unbelievable” — but the dish I keep coming back to in my head, the one that feels like it belongs to the spirit of that table, is something quieter and closer to the ground: a baked sweet potato pudding, warm and spiced, the kind of thing that doesn’t try to be extraordinary and ends up being exactly that. After a day that started at 3:45 AM and ended with me crying with dignity, I wanted to share something from that table that any home cook could bring to their own — something that honors the simplicity underneath all that fire.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 cups mashed sweet potatoes (about 3 medium sweet potatoes, roasted or boiled)
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
2 large eggs, beaten
1 cup evaporated milk
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp salt
Cooking spray or butter, for the baking dish

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish or a 2-quart casserole dish with cooking spray or butter and set aside.
Cook and mash the sweet potatoes. If starting from raw, peel and cube the sweet potatoes, then boil in salted water for 15–18 minutes until fork-tender. Drain thoroughly and mash until completely smooth with no lumps. Let cool slightly.
Combine the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the melted butter, beaten eggs, evaporated milk, and vanilla extract until well blended.
Add the sweet potatoes and spices. Fold the mashed sweet potatoes into the wet mixture. Add the sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and salt. Stir until fully combined and the batter is smooth and uniform in color.
Pour and smooth. Transfer the pudding batter into the prepared baking dish, spreading it into an even layer with a spatula.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 45–50 minutes, until the center is set (it should not jiggle when you gently shake the pan) and the top is lightly golden at the edges. A knife inserted in the center should come out clean.
Rest before serving. Allow the pudding to rest for 10 minutes before slicing or scooping. Serve warm as-is, or with a dollop of whipped cream or a light drizzle of honey.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sweet Potato Pudding — The Perfect Ending to the Most Beautiful Table I’ve Ever Seen