Tell-A-Tale (Part 1): Sweet Potato Balls

Uprooted and skinned,
Washed and thinned,
To a tray I was pinned,
Steam appeared with a gush of wind.

Hot and soft after steamed,
Coated with sugar that gleamed,
In hand a masher he teamed,
To refine me into a paste it seemed.

Binded by flour,
To make rolling easier,
I waited for the hour,
For him to devour.

Into a ball I was rolled,
Masked with flour I was trolled,
To prevent sticking I was told,
To the oil pool, I behold.

I drowned with fear,
I rose with cheer,
A golden brown sphere,
His praise I hear.

Excess oil was drained,
My crispy skin remained,
The soft filling contained,
A fragrant scent reigned.

I was placed on the plate,
A small bit of me he ate,
Anxiously his judgement I await,
He grinned and said, "This is great!"