Memories of Daigaku Imo

At this time of year, I often remember the roasted sweet potato vendors who used to drive around when I was a child.

They had converted the bed of a small truck, fitting it with a stone-roasting oven—perhaps?—complete with a chimney. The slightly wistful refrain played on an endless loop, “Roasted sweet potatoes—stone-roasted sweet potatoes♪,” echoing through the neighborhood.

I was only very occasionally allowed to buy one, but when I was, I would rush out the front door and run up to the truck, calling, “Mr. Roasted Sweet Potato Man, I’d like to buy some!”

I was so happy when the man, while placing the potatoes on a balance scale, would say, “This is a little extra,” and give me a bit more.

I remember hurrying back home, taking the piping-hot sweet potatoes from the paper bag, and eating them little by little while blowing on them to cool them down.

They were so delicious.

Speaking of sweet potatoes, there used to be a shop selling daigaku imo right near the restaurant.

It was a little way down Grand Slope toward Abe Stadium, and I believe it was a shop called Hanaya, run by someone named Mr. Huang.

Inside the dimly lit, narrow-fronted shop was a large vat. I wonder whether they roasted the sweet potatoes in it, or made the daigaku imo there.

I was rarely allowed to buy these either, but whenever I did have them, they were unbelievably delicious!

For the fifth-generation owner as a child, fried sweet potatoes coated in sweet syrup were the height of happiness.

Once, at some family restaurant or another, I came across something called “college potatoes,” which turned out to be what we call daigaku imo. I was impressed by the name, yet also felt a little embarrassed that someone had given it such a literal translation.

I wonder whether there are still any shops that sell daigaku imo.

I’ll have Yuya, who is in charge of desserts at Yahata Sushi, make some for me next time!