Sweet Potato Souffle With Pecans

April, and the one-year anniversary of Mama's death approaches — April 11th, the day that Ruth was with her and I was not, the day that the hands were still warm when I arrived. The anniversary is not a holiday but it is a marking, the way all anniversaries are markings: a line drawn on the wall of time that says "this is where it happened" and "this is how tall the grief was then" and "this is how tall the grief is now."

The grief is now the height of a woman standing in a kitchen. The grief is my height. The grief and I are the same size, and the same-size-ness means we can look at each other directly, face to face, without one overwhelming the other. The grief does not tower over me. I do not cower beneath the grief. We coexist. We stand in the kitchen together. We cook.

I visited the cemetery on April 11th — alone, early, with a single peach cobbler in a container and a copy of the cookbook. I placed the cobbler on the headstone and the book beside it and I said, "Mama, the book is in the world. Your recipes are being cooked by strangers who love you. The she-crab soup is on page 23. The cobbler is on page 147. Joy is happy. James is about to be a lawyer. Carrie is teaching in Japan. Robert built the desk where I wrote the book. I am retiring from the library in June. I am going to write another book." The speaking to the stone was the report. The report was the love. And the love was the speaking.

I made she-crab soup on the anniversary. The making was the mourning and the celebrating and both at once. The soup was perfect. The perfect was the year. And the year was the carrying. And the carrying continues.

The she-crab soup is the recipe everyone asks about — the one on page 23, the one I named first when I stood at the stone — but this souffle is the one that was always beside it, the dish Mama brought out at Thanksgiving and Easter and any Sunday that called for something more than ordinary. I made it on the anniversary alongside the soup because it felt wrong to make one without the other, the way it had always been wrong to see her table set without both. If the soup was the mourning, the souffle was the celebrating, and I needed both. I am sharing it here the way she shared it: without ceremony, without fuss, just the recipe and the love that made it.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 cups mashed sweet potatoes (about 3 large sweet potatoes, boiled and peeled)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, beaten
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
For the pecan topping:
1 cup chopped pecans
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Make the sweet potato base. In a large bowl, combine the mashed sweet potatoes, granulated sugar, beaten eggs, melted butter, milk, vanilla extract, and salt. Stir until smooth and well combined. The mixture should be thick and uniform with no streaks of egg.
Fill the dish. Pour the sweet potato mixture into the prepared baking dish and spread it into an even layer with a spatula.
Make the pecan topping. In a separate bowl, combine the chopped pecans, brown sugar, and flour. Pour in the melted butter and stir until the mixture resembles a coarse, crumbly streusel.
Top and bake. Spread the pecan topping evenly over the sweet potato layer. Bake uncovered for 40–45 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the filling is set and slightly puffed at the edges.
Rest before serving. Allow the souffle to rest for 10 minutes before serving. It will settle slightly — this is expected. Serve warm, spooned directly from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sweet Potato Souffle With Pecans — The Dish That Sat Beside the Soup at Every Table She Ever Set