My grandmother, like most other grandmothers, was quite the cook. I've managed to recover some of her recipes from trial-and-error. (Rest assured that not one she would even consider using was ever written.) I've succeeded with chicken stew, which you might call chicken pastry. And I can make a decent biscuit, especially if I stick with drop biscuits OR OR OR I buy frozen dough.
Well, I am the black sheep of the family plan.
For years, I've been trying to make a sweet potato pudding like she made. My memory is faded here. We only had such puddings in the fall. So far, I've not succeeded, and I attribute this on-going failure to (1) my life in general, and (2) my lack of access to a potato field without being shot in the process. Why the latter? Because Grandmother always used jumbos for her puddings.
She used jumbos because they were not particularly valuable. In fact, they were hard, if not impossible, to sell because of the excessive size. City people had set notions on the appropriate size for a sweet potato, and you've likely seen millions of these in your grocery store. We fed the off sizes to the hogs. Later, the small sweet potatoes would become known as canners because a company opened nearby that would buy the small taters, process them somehow, and sell them in cans.
Jumbos remained the domain of Grandmother's kitchen and the hog pen. Bear in mind that my grandparents were products of Reconstruction. They learned to eat what they had, and they often had stuff that no one else would buy.
Of course, I have yet to meet adequate in my personal review on the sweet potato pudding, though each attempt produces a relatively good product that I always eat. Well, I lick the pot and bowl, but that's another matter.
Here's my latest attempt in living color.