Miracle of the purple yam

Beni imo.  Okinawan purple yam.  I crave this food first because of its color: a kind of blooming purple, a purple that blends with midnight indigo, a purple that glows at me when I slit open the drab pale brown skin.  The yam's taste and texture are miraculous too, especially when it starts to caramelize at the edges after long roasting.  The flesh is smooth, dense, sweet as dates.  I eat it with yogurt and cinnamon, or with salty black beans and coconut rice, but mostly I eat it plain, meal after meal, hot or cold.  Complete.  

The intensity of that purple makes me a little afraid, a little thrilled.  In the heart of my kitchen, my comforting routine, comes this acute beauty, the opposite of safety.