Collecting chestnuts in Autumn - something to love about staying in Grenoble:
This was an amazing and exciting experience - like seeing snow for the first time.
You hear it every December in that Nat King Cole song... 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire...' so evocative yet so alien to us living in the southern hemisphere.
By the roadside on the way up to Chamrousse, Marc spotted a good, safe stretch of road under some chestnut trees. Out of the car, we scraped the grass on the roadside verge with the heels of our shoes and kicked the spiky round chestnut cases onto the road. They're almost too prickly to hold.. you certainly cannot clench your fist around one without spiking your hand:
Again, shoes are a safe tool for harvesting and collecting the chestnuts. Squeezing the case with your heel, the shiny brown nuggets slide out which can be picked up easily.
From our harvest, we roasted half the batch, peeled the brown skin off and ate them warm with some beer and wine. Yummy! I was reminded of a more powdery, sweet version of our unique and wonderful macadamia nut. Despite the spiky shell, I think the chestnut is a little bit easier to get at than a macadamia. The remainder of our chestnut harvest was boiled, peeled, pureed and mixed in with white sugar. It forms a paste which the Frenchies call creme de marron. A popular filling for sweet crepes.
As I travelled more on this trip, I discovered that the chestnut phenomenon is not all that unique. This time of year, fruit and vegetable carts and street stalls had little braziers smoking away selling triangular paper sleeves of just-roasted chestnuts all over the place ... Catania and Palermo in Sicily... in France - Grenoble, Lyon - and Paris too.. even in Shanghai where I spent two days on the return journey home. People queued eagerly and patiently for their fix in all of these cities whenever their noses told them chestnuts were fresh off the roasting pan. In all of these instances, I never got the sense of enjoyment that came from collecting them and cooking them myself.
Of course ... that novelty would wear off... convenience wins the day ultimately! I suppose living day to day it wouldn't be easy to go and collect your own... if was a European urban dweller I'd be queuing up with everyone else!
This was an amazing and exciting experience - like seeing snow for the first time.
You hear it every December in that Nat King Cole song... 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire...' so evocative yet so alien to us living in the southern hemisphere.
By the roadside on the way up to Chamrousse, Marc spotted a good, safe stretch of road under some chestnut trees. Out of the car, we scraped the grass on the roadside verge with the heels of our shoes and kicked the spiky round chestnut cases onto the road. They're almost too prickly to hold.. you certainly cannot clench your fist around one without spiking your hand:
Again, shoes are a safe tool for harvesting and collecting the chestnuts. Squeezing the case with your heel, the shiny brown nuggets slide out which can be picked up easily.
From our harvest, we roasted half the batch, peeled the brown skin off and ate them warm with some beer and wine. Yummy! I was reminded of a more powdery, sweet version of our unique and wonderful macadamia nut. Despite the spiky shell, I think the chestnut is a little bit easier to get at than a macadamia. The remainder of our chestnut harvest was boiled, peeled, pureed and mixed in with white sugar. It forms a paste which the Frenchies call creme de marron. A popular filling for sweet crepes.
As I travelled more on this trip, I discovered that the chestnut phenomenon is not all that unique. This time of year, fruit and vegetable carts and street stalls had little braziers smoking away selling triangular paper sleeves of just-roasted chestnuts all over the place ... Catania and Palermo in Sicily... in France - Grenoble, Lyon - and Paris too.. even in Shanghai where I spent two days on the return journey home. People queued eagerly and patiently for their fix in all of these cities whenever their noses told them chestnuts were fresh off the roasting pan. In all of these instances, I never got the sense of enjoyment that came from collecting them and cooking them myself.
Of course ... that novelty would wear off... convenience wins the day ultimately! I suppose living day to day it wouldn't be easy to go and collect your own... if was a European urban dweller I'd be queuing up with everyone else!
posted by Slartibartfast @ Wednesday, November 22, 2006
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home