Iannuccilli: What’s Not to Like About Roasted Chestnuts?

Iannuccilli: What’s Not to Like About Roasted Chestnuts?

I was on Fifth Avenue in New York and from around a corner, I recognized that smell … toasty, charbroiled, earthy, and nutty. I made the turn and spotted the vendor in front of his hot, saucer-shaped pan loaded with roasting chestnuts. Whorls of steamy scents rose between the buildings.  People huddled closer and rubbed their hands together. Our seller stopped turning his ladle only to fill a cone-shaped newspaper with the treats. When he handed them over, I thought I heard whimpers. I thought of Italy.

My cousin Vincenzo, who lives just north of Naples in Roccamonfina, with his wife Anna, is the proprietor of a chestnut farm. Diane and I had the good fortune to visit them some years ago.

People were harvesting chestnuts on virtually every open plot of land. The edible chestnut is the one familiar at holidays; easy to spot in its spiny, needle-sharp husk. The inedible, back yard horse chestnut that we knew as kids, has a smoother husk and was good only for the game of kingers.

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Vincenzo: “Tuo nonno ha vissuto vicino a una fattoria di castagne.” (Your grandfather lived nearby on a chestnut farm.). I loved his lilting Italian. “However, when he emigrated to America he lost his rights.” I stared into space. “You mean I could have inherited a chestnut farm! In Italy! I could have been a chestnut farmer in Italy!” Oh well …

Chestnuts also come to mind when I think of La Vigilia. They are the end of meal staple of that marvelous Christmas Eve feast. At the end of the abbondanza came the chestnuts that had been roasted on the Barstow Stove top. Grandpa cut them so that they would roast evenly and open without a burst. Using his sharpened jackknife, he scored them with an “X” on the rounded side and placed them on the stove with the flatter side down. Grandma lightly laced them with olive oil.

Roasted chestnuts were the food that complemented the meal. Grandma brought them to the table mounded in a large dish. They opened enough so that when they cooled, they were easy to peel. There are two reasons to eat a chestnut right away.  The longer you wait to remove the shell, the harder the work will be. So what if your fingers burn and you have to cool the treat with a blow?  When opened, the firm, somewhat spongy, soft nut was easily breakable.

The second reason? They were delicious when warm.

Notwithstanding the fact that we had eaten for hours and thought we were satisfied, we started on the chestnuts. We shook the hot ones in our cupped hands. Then we ate more. Mounds of chestnut skins were centered on the table.

I recognized how good the chestnut was, but not until recent years did I realize how healthy (low fat, high protein, gluten-free, high in vitamins and fiber) they are.

Chestnuts remind me of a day in New York, our visit with Vincenzo and Anna, and La Vigilia.

 

Ed Iannuccilli is the author of "Growing up Italian" and "What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner?" and "My Story Continues"  can be found here.