Roasted Sweet Potato Rounds with Honey & Feta

My strongest culinary conviction — besides the gospel of good butter and the sacredness of the garlic press — is that Roasted Sweet Potato Rounds with Honey & Feta deserve a small parade. (Yes, a parade. Tiny paper hats optional.) This recipe is cozy, loud, slightly rebellious, and absolutely the thing you bring to Thanksgiving when you want to look fancy but mostly just want to avoid doing turkey duty. Also, if you like that sweet-savory vibe, you might enjoy my take on the honey-glazed roasted Brussels sprouts recipe — not that I’m trying to start a whole holiday rivalry. Okay, maybe I am.

How I Nearly Burned the Holidays (and survived with caramelized pride)

There was the year I thought I could roast everything at once and also supervise three toddlers, my mother, and a phone call from Aunt Karen who asked, with laser focus, “Did you brine the turkey?” (No. I did not.) Smoke alarm chorus ensued. The gravy became glue. The cranberry sauce achieved sentience. But the sweet potatoes — oh, the sweet potatoes saved the day because they turned into little orange coins of forgiveness, all crispy at the edges with honey doing its sticky diplomatic work. I learned: prioritize the things that actually taste like joy.

Okay, pivot — back to the recipe before I spiral into soup kitchen confessions

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive the entire event (yes I will, later), this dish is simple: rounds of sweet potato roasted until they flirt with char, drizzled in honey, dotted with salty feta, and brightened with lemon. It’s the kind of thing you can throw together between quarantine-era existential dread and a last-minute grocery run to Trader Joe’s where the shelf tags promise hope.

What you need (and my unsolicited shopping takes)

• 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch thick rounds
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon sea salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, finely chopped
• 3 tablespoons honey
• 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley (optional, for garnish)

Mini-rants: Buy good honey if you can — not because I’m bougie, but because store-brand honey sometimes tastes like disappointment (Trader Joe’s local honey is my weakness). Feta? You don’t need the fancy stuff, but don’t get the chalky mystery brand from the back of the fridge aisle. Aldi has steals if you’re into scoring culinary victories on a budget.

Cooking Unit Converter: quick helpers so numbers don’t betray you

If you’re like me and sometimes eyeball teaspoons into tablespoons (and occasionally into disaster), this little converter will keep things honest.

Technique, as told by someone who learned everything through experiment and regret

I don’t do boring step lists here. I ramble, I gesture wildly, and I tell you what I learned the hard way — which is often that timing is a lie and flip halfway through for dignity. Preheat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat. In a large bowl, combine the sweet potato rounds with olive oil, sea salt, black pepper, and chopped rosemary. Toss well to coat the rounds evenly. Arrange the sweet potato rounds in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Ensure they are not overlapping to allow even roasting. Roast in the preheated oven for 20-25 minutes, flipping halfway through, until the sweet potatoes are tender and slightly crispy on the edges. While the sweet potatoes are roasting, prepare the honey-feta mixture. In a small bowl, mix the honey with the crumbled feta cheese and fresh lemon juice. Once the sweet potatoes are done roasting, transfer them to a serving platter. Drizzle the honey-feta mixture over the roasted sweet potato rounds evenly. Optionally, garnish with chopped fresh parsley for an added burst of color and freshness. Serve immediately while the sweet potatoes are warm, allowing the flavors to meld beautifully. Also: flipping them with a spatula is a little ceremony — treat it like you’re flipping tiny pancakes that will one day forgive you.

Don’t overcrowd the pan (crowding = steaming = sadness), and if you want edges that sing, broil for a minute at the end but watch like a hawk because I once broiled into charcoal and I cried.

Why this matters to me (and why it might matter to you)

Cooking has always been how I anchor myself — it’s nostalgia mashed with necessity. My grandma’s kitchen smelled like cinnamon and compromise, my cousin once microwaved sweet potatoes and swore they were “fine” (they were not), and the act of roasting, drizzling, tasting, adjusting feels like a ritual that says: we will make something good despite everything. Also, food is identity; this recipe is a little bridge between my Midwest Thanksgiving memory bank and the West Coast obsession with bright flavors. (If you want cross-cultural breakfast dreams, I have thoughts about Korean breakfast traditions that are embarrassingly enthusiastic.)

Tiny, true thing that happened once (micro-anecdote)

I served these to a neighbor who said, with grave seriousness, “This tastes like Christmas and summer had a polite baby.” I framed it. Also, the neighbor brought back a jar of jam and I consider that friendship currency now.

Frequently Asked Questions (chaotic but useful)

Okay, I’ll stop. Mostly. If you take nothing else away: roast them until they have edges that snap a little, drizzle honey like you mean it, crumble feta like it’s confetti, and serve warm to people you want to love you. Or at least like you. Either is fine. (Also, don’t forget to taste the honey first — it’s rude not to.)

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator: figure out how many of these you’re allowed before guilt sets in

Estimate your daily calorie needs quickly with this handy tool and then decide if you’ll eat three or thirteen.