A Taste of Home, in North America
“Fried Yam is Bae” trended 3 years ago—and honestly, it never stopped trending for me. Name a better duo than fried yam and eggs. I’ll wait…
The Challenge:
Let’s be honest, fried yam isn’t just food, it’s a full sensory memory. Every time I worked on this project, I ended up abandoning my laptop to go fry some yam and crack a few eggs. That’s the thing: for millions in the diaspora, yam is more than a carb, it’s comfort, nostalgia, and a love language wrapped in golden edges.
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Now imagine trying to package that feeling and drop it in the middle of a North American frozen food aisle, where yam is often misunderstood, and everything is either potato, quinoa, or kale-adjacent. The odds? Stacked.
Oja Farms wanted to enter this market not with an apology, but with pride. No renaming yam to “African root fry.” No playing small.
The challenge was clear:
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How do we introduce yam fries to a market that doesn’t know it needs them yet?
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How do we make it appeal to both a culturally rooted audience and the Whole Foods vegan mom down the street?
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And how do we do it without watering down what fried yam truly is—a crispy, golden, life-giving, late-night snack hero?
It wasn’t just about branding a frozen product. It was about reintroducing the West African palate to the global table, loud, proud, and bilingual (because French packaging matters in Canada, and auntie from Montreal deserves yam fries too).
The Approach:​
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Now, here’s where the story takes a turn.
The goal was clear: sell fried yam fries like the delicacy it is. Naturally, my first thought was: glorious, high-res food photography. Golden yam slices glistening under perfect lighting, fried eggs doing their soft-boiled thing, and maybe a nostalgic hand reaching in like it’s Saturday morning in Lagos. I was ready. I could already hear the crunch.
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But the brand managers?
“Maybe we explore abstract first?”
Sir. Sir.
Who has the opportunity to plaster fried yam and eggs on a pack—and chooses not to?!​ I was flabbergasted. Slightly betrayed. But I kept my cool. Because as the Design Avenger™ that I am, I took it as my solemn duty to honor the request. And so, I went full abstract. No food. No frying. Just shapes, lines, textures. I leaned into it—hard.
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Yes, I’ll admit it: I intentionally created some truly questionable packs. Not out of pettiness (well, maybe just a pinch), but out of artistic obedience.
“You want abstract?” I said.
“Here’s ABSTRACT.”
Bold blobs. Mysterious gradients. A visual maze of “what am I even looking at?” It was design performance art at that point.
But as fate would have it, the yam gods intervened.
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We reached a moment of reckoning: no decision had been made on whether we were ready to invest in proper yam photography. But in a brilliant twist of irony, we brought in the enemy—potato fries—as a placeholder visual reference.Yep, the same potato fries we were trying to compete with became our temporary stand-in.
And funny enough… that’s when the magic started happening.
With the structure in place, the brand team finally began to see it—what fried yam could look like, taste like, feel like on a pack. The vision was forming. Confidence was rising. And somewhere in the distance, a yam was being peeled in anticipation.
abstracts,
out the box.
The Solution:
Before we talk yam, let’s talk roots.
Literally.
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The Oja Farms identity didn’t pop out of a design brief overnight. It was season one of our saga, a full origin arc. We started with huts. Farm roofs. Verdant foliage. Ridges drawn like they were auditioning for a satellite view. You name it, we tried it.​
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Eventually, through a jungle of concepts, we landed on a clean, modern wordmark + icon combo that nodded to natural farming values and gave enough flex to visually support the foods the brand wanted to showcase—starting with the main character: yam fries.
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But now—back to our regularly scheduled programming—we were deep in the wilderness. The Abstract Yam Era.
That era where packs looked like boiled yam still wearing its skin.
Sure, some ideas had legs—I leaned into bold typography, explored ingredient-based objects, even teased minimalism with energy. But then, somewhere between sunrise gradients and an actual sun bursting out the corner of a box (yes, it happened),
I knew:
It was time.
The burnt offering pack was the final straw. Symbolic. Dramatic. Sacrificial.
And it worked.
The brand team finally agreed: we needed to go back to photography—and do it right.
That opened up a new kind of creative freedom. Our visual strategy split the market into two:
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The West African diaspora who already know yam is top-tier and just need a well-designed reminder to grab a bag.
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The curious newcomer who’s never met fried yam in their life but lives for a good vegan snack that looks like it belongs on a brunch board.
We decided to lean into aspiration and familiarity.
Golden yam slices, shot under glorious light, plated to perfection with sexy, simple accompaniments—no need to overcomplicate it.
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Sorry Ghanaians, but no green shito and bonga fish on this pack.
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This wasn’t about doing the most. It was about making yam look like it belonged in Whole Foods and H Mart in the same breath—without losing its West African identity.
All I had to do was threaten the team with a few more abstract covers… and suddenly, the yam budget was approved.
The Impact:
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On the day I delivered the final designs, I did what any sane creative person obsessed with yam would do:
I fried glorious yam and eggs.
It wasn’t just a meal. It was a moment.
The eggs? Spicy with diced tomatoes, onions, and mixed bell peppers doing a seductive dance of almost-charred crisp beneath a fluffy scramble. The yam? Sliced in wide, generous breaths: strips this time (because even though cubed yam has its charm, some days deserve elegance).
I plated it like a thank-you note to the yam heritage, sat back, and gazed upon a grateful universe where fried yam finally had the packaging it deserved.
This project wasn’t just a branding exercise, it was a cultural homage, a consumer breakthrough, and a quiet victory for West African food identity in global spaces.
And while the official product photography is still underway (watch this space, it’s coming with the fire), the foundation has been laid.
Oja Farms Frozen Yam Fries now has:
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A modern, culturally respectful visual identity
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Packaging that speaks both English and French (and Yam)
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A story that’s equal parts strategy and soul food
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And a future that looks as golden as a perfectly fried yam slice
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The Future-Fit Visual System Direction
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Strong visual identity deserves a strong visual system. So I created a photography direction that goes beyond the packaging—designed to unify all brand visuals from eCommerce to social media, advertising, and point-of-sale.
This system doesn’t just show fried yam.
It honors it.
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Photography Direction -
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Plate & Contrast: Use a neutral white plate to let the warm tones of the yam shine.
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Lighting: Favor natural, directional light to highlight texture and surface depth.
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Accents: Introduce hints of green or red for visual interest and color balance.
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Tone & Mood: Combine creamy and bold-toned accompaniments for visual layering.
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Background: Keep minimal to maintain attention on the food.
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Composition: Plate organically and dynamically—real, inviting, unforgettable.
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Product Match: Yam fries must visually match actual product form.
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Fry Style: Deep-fried to golden brown with visible crisp edges.
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Camera Angle: Direct overhead (0° top-down), for clarity and punch.
This is how Oja Farms will create crave-worthy consistency, a visual grammar for yam lovers across continents.
Closing Note
Anyway, I’m glad you read to the end.
Now go fry some yam—you’ve earned it.