At some point during every cooking class I teach, I do my signature move: dramatically add handful upon handful of salt to a large pot of boiling water, then taste it and add even more. Across the room, eyebrows shoot up. Audible gasps are made. More often than not, someone (usually a man) will suggest that I’ve overseasoned the pot. But then I cook broccoli or green beans or asparagus and serve everyone. The first bite makes my point better than any words ever could: Vegetables need to be salted properly as they cook in order to taste good.

And yet, every time, someone timidly raises her hand and asks, “How do you feel about steaming?”

“Well, to be honest,” I usually respond, “I hate it!” Why steam when I can boil, allowing my food to become evenly salted from within? Steaming offers no opportunity for either seasoning or developing the brown, crisp textures that sautéing and roasting afford. The only good things I’ve seen emerge from a steamer are tamales, couscous and dumplings — maybe the occasional artichoke or delicate fish fillet. But baby turnips with their tender greens still attached should be boiled in water as salty as the sea until their flesh is silky and soft. Long-stemmed broccoli should be tossed with olive oil and flaky salt and roasted in a hot oven until the florets turn the color of hazelnut shells and shatter on the tongue.

So I was surprised to find myself fascinated by a recipe for steamed sweet potatoes in “Where Cooking Begins,” the new cookbook from the food writer and editor Carla Lalli Music. The accompanying photograph of a platter of still-hot sweet potatoes split open, doused in tahini butter and showered with sesame seeds and fresh lime juice sitting seductively in golden-hour light was so enchanting that it challenged my career-long aversion to steaming. I almost always cook sweet potatoes the same way: sliced into thick rounds, brushed with coconut oil, salted and roasted until dangerously dark. The crisp, salty edges, haunted by a rumor of the tropics from the oil, contrast with the creamy interior. The combination is so irresistible that I usually eat a few pieces, still blazing hot, straight from the baking sheet, inevitably burning my fingertips and tongue in the process.