You mean to tell me that you’re going to make comically, cartoonishly, large meatballs and not put one on a plate of spaghetti?
Serves 8–10
When I apprenticed at Taillevent in Paris, the pastry chef spiked his chestnut cakes with vintage rum. I prefer to drizzle them with melted chocolate or eat them with chocolate ice cream or Milk Chocolate Sorbet. The dense, rich consistency of these mini cakes may remind you of flourless chocolate cake—except they’re less sweet. They keep well, so the recipe makes three. Wrap the extras tightly in plastic and stash them in the refrigerator for up to 4 days or in the freezer for up to 2 months for a ready-made treat when a friend drops by for coffee. Unwrap and pop them into a 350°F oven for 6 to 8 minutes before serving. Chestnut cream is a sweetened chestnut puree. It’s available—as are candied chestnuts (marrons glacés)—from gourmet shops and online sources including amazon.com, which carries my favorite brand, Clément Faugier chestnut spread with vanilla.
When Vietnamese cooks stuff fowl for roasting, the dressing is often made with sticky rice. These preparations, which bridge Vietnamese and French culinary traditions, commonly include lotus seeds, too. My family prefers the flavor of chestnuts, however, which we simmer in chicken stock, butter, and cilantro. The presence of shiitake mushrooms and Cognac in this recipe illustrates yet another marriage of East and West.
This dressing is good with roast turkey, chicken, game hens, and goose. While you may stuff the birds, I find baking the dressing separately is easier, plus the grains on the bottom form a tasty crust. Shelling and peeling chestnuts is time-consuming, but this recipe doesn’t require many of them. For guidance on buying and peeling the nuts, see the accompanying Note.
We’re cooks who have endless patience for “process.” But when a recipe calls for 5 cups of peeled chestnuts, we know we’re in for some serious labor: scoring their skins with ×’s, roasting them, peeling them while they are still hot, then removing the fuzzy inner skins. Life is too short. We cut ourselves some slack and reach for jars of those nice already peeled French chestnuts—they’re delicious.
Once, wherever chestnut trees grew, the nuts were important food for the poor, and yet their taste is luxurious. This chestnut soup, one of my very favorite soups, presents its main ingredient beautifully. It happens to be French, although chestnut soups are made in many places. Chestnuts can be had only during the end-of-the-year season, of course, and the flavor of the soup depends on their quality — the best, when hot, have an aroma of honey — and on the clear flavor of the chicken stock. Along with that, milk is a light, traditional addition that respects chestnut flavor, but for years I’ve instead added cream, as below. Make your stock with a generous quantity of leeks, or reboil it with leeks before adding it to this soup.
My father uses the microwave. Working with about 5 chestnuts at a time, he slits each chestnut almost all the way around its circumference, leaving the shell connected in one spot (there is a black dot on the chestnut that he uses as the hinge). Then he lays the nuts on a plate and microwaves them on high power for 40 seconds. The shells pop open like clams. He wets his fingers in cold water and pulls off the shells before the chestnuts cool. Repeat until all the chestnuts are peeled. The fresh ones really are better than the jarred, and he says it takes him only 15 minutes to do a pound.
This is my version of hearth-roasted chestnuts, which you can also use if you want peeled fresh chestnuts for a recipe. I score the chestnut peels first and soak the chestnuts in water before roasting. The residual water left in the drained chestnuts creates steam in the hot pan, keeping the chestnuts from drying out and making them easier to peel.
This is a French classic.