Roasted Chestnuts: a rare treat, and versatile too.
THE CHESTNUT HAS LONG PLAYED an important part in the Mediterranean diet: Homer mentions them, and Pliny even says which kinds were grown in Southern Italy. With time their cultivation spread throughout the peninsula, because they were one of the few food crops that could be grown on steep mountain slopes, and also one of the few crops that could be expected to provide sustenance through the long winter months: By the middle ages were the staple food of the peasants in large parts of Italy, from Piemonte to Lazio and on down. In some areas, for example Tuscany's Lunigiana and Lucchesia, much of the economy revolved around the crop, which people gathered in the fall and worked long into the winter to sort, process, package and sell. Then, come spring, it was time to tend the chestnut groves again. It was backbreaking work, so it's also small wonder that with improving economic conditions the majority of Italy's chestnut farmers sought out other jobs.
For those who remained this has provided a bonanza – chestnuts are tasty and nutritious (indeed, the aristocracy never disdained them they way they did some other staples of the poor), and now that it's a seller's market prices have soared. Though a chestnut connoisseur will be able to point out a half-dozen or more varieties of chestnut, what's sold in Italian markets comes in two shades: castagne, which are generally small (an inch or so high and often fairly flat sided) and marroni, which are voluptuously rounded, firm, and larger – up to an inch and a half high, and with a wondrously distended front.
In selecting chestnuts (and this is especially true if you live where they are imported), trust your eyes. Their skins should have a healthy glow, and a beautiful brown shine. If they look dim or mottled they may have mold – pass them by. They should also be firm and feel solid, with no air between the skin and the underlying flesh – wizened nuts may be old. Finally, the skins should be blemish free. In particular, look for pinholes, which likely mean worms.
Once you have your chestnuts you have to decide what to do with them. One of the easiest and tastiest options is to roast them. Some country households had terracotta colanders they'd fill with chestnuts and settle into the coals, while others used lidded iron pans with holes cut into them, mounted on long handles (a popcorn popper lined with tinfoil that has holes punched through it would be a good substitute). If you lack a fireplace and cannot find a chestnut roasting pan (they're sold by a number of mail order outfits) I suggest you purchase a cheap, thin steel skillet (non-stick surfaces are not necessary here) and punch about a dozen holes into the bottom with a thick nail. Before roasting your chestnuts make a cut into the round side of each to keep it from exploding. Put the chestnuts into the roaster, sprinkle them lightly with water, and cook them over brisk heat for 10-20 minutes (depending upon their size), shaking them frequently to keep them from burning. When they're done the skins will have pulled back from the nuts, and the nutmeats will be firm but fork-tender – charred spots indicate insufficient shaking. Sprinkle them with a few drops of red wine (if you want), wrap them in an old cloth, squeeze them until they crackle, and let them sit in a warm place for five minutes. Peel back the cloth and enjoy! Few things are more pleasant that sitting around a fire with friends while eating roasted chestnuts and sipping a light wine such as Vino Novello or Beaujolais Nouveau (its French equivalent).
Of course, in the past the farmers who survived on chestnuts didn't sit around the fire roasting them. They either ground them up into flour (the uses of which I will discuss in another feature) or served them at the table. Two of the recipes that follow are based on Emiliana Lucchesi's La Cucina della Lucchesia (the cuisine of Lucca & environs), while the other two are recipes from Pellegrino Artusi's Scienza in Cucina.
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Castagne Stufate
Emiliana Lucchesi notes that people have recently rediscovered how good stewed chestnuts can be with a roast, especially pork. Roast 1 1/4 pounds of chestnuts as described above. When they are done peel them and set them in a pan with a sprinkling of olive oil, a pinch of salt, and a few leaves of rosemary. Sauté them for a few minutes, then sprinkle them with a ladle of broth and simmer them until they are very tender, and serve.
Serving boiled meats rather than roast pork? Simmer them with good vinegar instead of broth.
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POLLO RIPIENO ARROSTO
Artusi instead uses chestnuts as an ingredient in his poultry stuffing: "This filling isn't refined cuisine, but is rather for family use. For a mid-sized chicken, the following quantities of ingredients will suffice."
- 2 sausages (mild Italian, not the spicy Neapolitan variety)
- The liver, comb, and wattles of the chicken.
- 8 to 10 well roasted chestnuts
- A small truffle, or, in its absence, some dried porcini
- Nutmeg to taste
- 1 egg
If you are stuffing a turkey rather than a chicken, double the quantities.
Begin by cooking the sausages and the chicken parts till they're half done in butter, adding broth if necessary to keep them from drying out and toughening. Meanwhile, steep the mushrooms in boiling water. Remove the meat from the pan and mix some bread crumbs and enough broth into the drippings to have two tablespoons of firm paste. Skin the sausages, mince the soaked mushrooms and the chicken parts, and mix these ingredients with the paste, the egg, and the chestnuts. Grind everything except the truffles to a fine paste with a mortar [feel free to use a food processor]. Then finely slice the truffle, add it to the filling, stuff the chicken, and roast it. This stuffing is easier to carve cold than hot, and also tastes better.
Before you stuff the chicken, preheat your oven to 450 °F (200 °C). Put the bird on a rack, grease it, dust it with salt and pepper, and put it into the oven, uncovered; reduce the heat to 375 °F (170 °C). Cook about twenty minutes per pound, basting if necessary.
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Pieno di Natale
I have not included Marrons Glacées (which were as popular among the Italian aristocracy as they were among the French) because recipes for them are common. Emiliana Lucchesi, on the other hand, talked to a Benedictine nun about Pieno di Natale, the pastry they made to offer guests at Christmas:
- 2 1/4 pounds chestnuts
- 2 1/4 pounds tasty apples (in Italy we'd use renette, which are mottled, and quite flavorful)
- 2 pounds Tuscan bread, dipped in milk and squeezed dry (you'll need real Tuscan bread that won't become a paste, from an Italian bakery)
- 3/4 pound dried figs
- 1/2 pound pitted prunes
- 1/2 pound walnut meats
- 1 cup sugar
- 1/4 pound shelled hazelnuts
- 1/4 pound raisins
- 1/2 cup sweet butter
- A generous pinch of anise seeds
- The zest of a lemon and an orange.
- Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and salt to taste.
Peel the chestnuts, soak them for several hours, and then simmer them in the water they've soaked in until tender. Meanwhile, cook the apples, figs and prunes separately in small amounts of water, simmering them until they begin to fall apart. Mince the nutmeats and put them in a large bowl, then carefully mix in the remaining ingredients. Transfer the paste to a baking tin (it should be about an inch high) and cook it in a slow oven, taking care that it not brown, until the water is evaporated and it reaches the consistency of a firm polenta.
I would serve this with a delicate dessert wine, for example a vinsanto.
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Dolce Di Marroni Con Panna Montata
To close, a second recipe from Artusi: Chestnut dessert with whipped cream:
- About 30 large, unblemished chestnuts - 1 1/4 pounds in all
- 2 1/2 cups powdered sugar
- 2 ounces chocolate
- 3 tablespoons citron rosolio (substitute a mild, sweet, lemony liqueur)
- Whipped cream (About 2 cups)
Boil the chestnuts until they are soft (their skins will give if you squeeze them), peel them, and blend them while they're still hot. Grate the chocolate and mix it with the remaining ingredients to make a paste. Take a large dish fit to be used as a serving dish, put an upended saucer in the center, and sprinkle the paste evenly around the saucer with the help of a strainer. Remove the saucer, returning any paste that may have gotten onto it to the ring, and fill the hole in the center with whipped cream.
This will serve eight.
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Good Food & Drink,
Kyle Phillips
