Yam chips and the pepper that bites back

There is a particular kind of hunger that only yam chips answer, and it tends to arrive late in the evening.

Yam is not a sweet potato

Worth saying plainly, because it causes endless confusion: the yam we cook with is not the orange-fleshed sweet potato sold under that name in British supermarkets. It is a proper yam, a tuber the size of a forearm, with a rough brown skin, starchy white flesh and a flavour that is earthy rather than sweet.

You peel it, cut it into thick fingers or wedges, and fry it. That is it. No batter, no coating, no seasoning in the oil.

Why thick cut matters

Thin chips go hard and brittle and lose the point of the vegetable. Cut them properly and you get something with a crisp shell and a dense, almost creamy middle, which is what makes them worth eating with a sauce rather than a dip.

The pepper

The sauce is where these get serious. Ours is a fresh pepper blend, ground with onion, tomato and scotch bonnet, and it is hot in the way that builds rather than the way that burns. It is not a condiment you should treat casually on a first meeting.

You can order the chips on their own, which is the sensible first move, or with any of our grilled or pan-fried proteins on top.

What to put with them

• Beef or goat kebab, the classic
• Pan-fried pork chops, for something richer
• Peppered chicken gizzard, if you want the whole plate to have some chew to it
• Roasted turkey tail, which is a whole opinion in itself
• Red bream, pan-fried, for the fish side of the table

Eat them hot and eat them fast. Yam chips do not improve with waiting, and they were never meant to.