#spices
This comforting casserole balances earthy sweet potatoes with bright pineapple and warm spices, topped with a toasted marshmallow layer.
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook time: 40 minutes or 50 minutes
Servings: 4–6 (depending on serving size)
Ingredients
+. 1 can of crushed pineapple and juice (approx. 20 oz)
+. 4 oz of applesauce
+.1 packet of instant sweet potato mashed potato mix
(Betty Crocker mashed sweet potatoes)
+.4 tbsp of oil
+.1/8 tsp of ground cloves
+.1/4 tsp of ground ginger
+.1/4 tsp of salt
+.1/2 cup of milk
+.1/2 tsp or 1 tsp of molasses
+.1/4 tsp (use 3/8 tsp) of ground cardamom powder
opt: Mini marshmallows (for topping)
Optional: Brown sugar to taste (reg. sugar)
Optional: Cool Whip (for serving)
Instructions
Preheat Oven: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly grease a medium-sized baking dish.
Prepare Potatoes: Prepare the sweet potato mash from the packet. If the packet requires milk and fat, use the 1/2 cup milk and 4 tbsp oil from the ingredient list.
Combine Base: In a large mixing bowl, combine the prepared sweet potato mash, the entire can of pineapple (do not drain), applesauce, molasses, salt, ground cloves, ground ginger, and ground cardamom.
Adjust Sweetness (Optional): Taste the mixture. If you desire more sweetness, stir in 1 tablespoon of brown sugar at a time until satisfied.
Bake Base: Pour the mixture into the prepared baking dish. Bake in the preheated oven for 40–50 minutes, or until the mixture is fully heated through and bubbling around the edges.
Add Marshmallows: Remove the dish from the oven. Spread a layer of mini marshmallows evenly across the top.
Toast Topping: Return the dish to the oven for 10 minutes, or place it under the broiler for 1–2 minutes, watching very carefully, until the marshmallows are puffed up and golden brown.
Serve: Let the casserole cool slightly before serving warm. It pairs excellently with a dollop of Cool Whip on top.
note: used parchment paper
by: verlecia f.
aka: lyricvixen
date: 12/01/2025
Dec 1, 2025
Dec 1, 2025 at 3:40 PM UTC
All poems and proses are unfinished
Only those in sonnet are finished
Completed, done, and terminated
A poem or prose can still be edited
Revised, retouched and rewritten
A poem is a powerful tool or weapon
Leave alone my unfinished poems
These are my spices, my stars, my emblems
You don't understand their symbols
And the words used to fill up the bowls
You just have to read my poems ten times
To fully comprehend them. Ignore the rhymes
To pay more attention to the vernacular
They are not bizarre; they are just particular
They are not regular; they are unfinished
They are not strange, they are simple. Kabish!
Copyright © July 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 7:11 PM UTC
Nakedly bottled.
Capturing bursting seasons
here and now.
Life, delicate in its notes,
the top notes,
lithe as youth,
citrus and bloom,
ever briefly,
recondite pleasure,
a suppliance of time
a rush that fades away.
Heart notes,
the flesh of our days, unfold—
warm spices, florals, deeper and continues to exude as winter winds careless breath.
In the middle years, the scent sits and blares and mellows—a steady pulse of sandalwood and musk.
Sultry as the scent may have lingered,
flirtatious colors in the breeze’s hair
the base notes come,
the earthier tones,
amber and resin,
heavier on the air,
decays a final wisp
until faint on the skin.
A memory is born.
Sep 27, 2024
Sep 27, 2024 at 1:21 AM UTC
A gentle pungence of the nutmeg
Burns the hands that dwell in its ashes
Sprinkle generously, lest you want the
concoction, to turn out bland.
Yet, how would bland be? A curry.
Dressed in an assortment of spices,
As, Cardamoms and Peppercorns and
Cinnamons and Aniseeed_ Do add a
bay leaf as you temper the potion
to a base.
It is joy, manifold_ flavours not just in
conclusion but odyssey of the process.
It is joy, unbound, creation nienté
could bring about such happiness !
Joy of the 'Kitchen Wizard' is
in his pots and potions found !
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
Roses spices and onions skins off
Richie ride me back home
there's nowhere to hide from your love.
~~~~~
I thought I could find a place not to think of you for one day, so I went to the kitchen for a soup there was nothing to eat but pasta sauce and there you were
in front of me up in the spices
I had to use in place of meat on bone for boiling a soup.
Heating up battled water added cento tomato and the sauce
all kinds of spices; parsely real sea salts garlic pepper a pinch of taco spice wild cilantro, a garlic squized and cloves
(no basil)
cayene pepper did the magic
lemon juice added the final punch for my Mexican soup;
added a few granes bazmati rice found, added a white onion slice and blessed as I felt
"I cried me a river for you" and
The White Cliffs of Dover
songs came to mind to console
me as I broke shrinking down
the stinking onion was me
and noone to share my soup
I turned stove top off to go
wipe face off and
entering the bedroom I tripped
knees on the red floor unconsolable crying.
Yes the room was filled with
roses wild and roses red!
and again you made my day.
I felt so blessed to have
held so many of your treasures
in arms to see my hands half full with roses
and half full with bittersweet spices beheld.
Upon my bed a heart was carved
inscribed in tiny little
red rose buds and purple hearts
in your words "I love you"
I craweled to reach the bed careful not to disturb the million roses nor bleed feet with their thurns as they layed artisticly everywhere room full of roses,
I wept there caressed by your roses spices and songs
hugged all night long.
by insomnia bug
Oh please my darling Old Richie "ride me back home."
there's nowhere to hide
from your love.
~~~~~~~~~
Karijinbba-03/2020.
Copy Rights
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 7:59 AM UTC
A hint of spices
In his meat slices
His hackles rise
He's ready to scythe
The imbecile
Who ruined his appetite
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 5:34 AM UTC
Hurt me honey, hurt me.
Break me and then cut me
Cut me into cubes of misery
Pour spices and then burn me.
© Ali Ashraf
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 4:24 AM UTC
Closing my eyes, I sit on my chair with tea,
sipping and cupping my chai with please.
Its cinnamon scent wafts through the air,
sending pleasant shivers everywhere.
Hints of cardamon slide down my throat with ease,
the musky mix of spices and black tea.
Slowly, I release my back to rest comfortably,
on the back of the old chair, that my mother gave me.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
Resting redly in an ocean of shadows
is Scarborough Fair.
With sweet and cardinal scent of the roses clinging to the air.
A woman of cherries, potential untapped.
With a harsh fate upon her as well as a pact.
A child born to parents star-crossed.
A love that was denied and a high cost.
I see her there
Fair-skinned, dark-haired.
Lips of rosed sin
And slinks the world prepared.
And with this woman walks the four,
Weapons of mass destruction that
the Devil would **** for.
The sass of Parsley
The wisdom of Sage
The touch of Rosemary
The passage of Thyme
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
I foresee a summer of spices
Of a saffron mid day sun
And flowers of anise
On trees of cinnamon
And the aromatic pepper vine
That seasons lands of green
Will find its way into -
A warm summer cuisine.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
Roll up de blunts fam
Spark em up, pass em round fam
Praise the blunt gods fam
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC