Yams and sweet potatoes are not one in the same. This product is a mushy, detestable glurp in a can. It was a staple side dish at all the Thanksgivings at casa Rapier. Dump the can of candied yams into a casserole dish; cover with a pound of mini marshmallows and bake until golden brown. Yuck! I suppose it comes from the era when it was all a parent could do to get a kid to eat a vegetable so they'd slather it with cheese food or enough sugar to kill and entire nation (and it is) to make it palatable. You may as well give a kid a king size Hershey bar and call it a veggie.
It wasn't until I moved to Georgia that I learned of the glory of a sweet potato. It's hard to believe the southern fried capital of the world didn't manage to destroy the simplicity of the orange tuber by coating it in batter and throwing it in the deep fryer. Paula Deen surely adds a pound of butter per potato. Oh, there are some jacked up recipes that make me question the sugar to potato ratio. Sorry. I digress.
Consumption of the sweet potato for me requires nothing more than baking or microwaving. No thank you to the butter and brown sugar. Truly, they are sweet enough on their own if you ask me. Perhaps a sprinkle of cinnamon or nutmeg, but nothing more. I'll cook a couple ahead of time and refrigerate for later use. Once cooked and cooled, the skins are so easy to peel off. It's not unusual for me eat a sweet potato for breakfast. Just slice one up and, with a spritz of non-stick spray in pan, warm until the natural sugars brown the outside. This can be done by baking, too. Super easy side dish that doesn't rob you of the nutrients or flavor. Heavy syrups suck tushy, kids.
My rule: When it comes to vegetables, K.I.S.S them -- Keep It Simple Sunshine