Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall
LATIN NAME
Castanea sativa
SEASONALITY
October
HABITAT
Park or woodland. Common in England, especially the South; less common in Scotland, Northern Ireland and central Wales
MORE RECIPES
Baked parasol mushroom with Brie; Roasted sprouts with black pudding and chestnuts; Pear and celeriac stuffing; Apple and chestnut crumble
To pass an autumn evening nibbling freshly roasted chestnuts, gathered by your own fair hand in some misty woodland, is a seasonal treat that’s hard to surpass.
I would be deceiving you, however, if I said it’s a completely straightforward mission. First you must find a decent haul of nuts that have escaped the attentions of squirrels; then you need to brave the ferociously spiny outer shells (surely one of nature’s most successful coats of armour) in order to release the tear-drop-shaped kernels within. Even then, it’s necessary to slit the skin of each before roasting them and, finally, to peel off the tightly clinging inner skin. By the time you get to your chestnut, you have certainly earned it. But the labour of love along the way is one of those comforting seasonal rituals that, as with all foraged foods, roots you that little bit deeper in the land you live on.
The sweet chestnut (not to be confused with the horse chestnut, which produces conkers) is a glorious tree that has enthusiastically taken root all over Europe. In the south of the continent, particularly, chestnuts grow abundantly and were once a staple crop for the working classes – hence the cache of lovely chestnut recipes you’ll find in Mediterranean cuisines, from Spanish pork and chestnut stews to dense, sweet chestnut flour cakes like the Italian castagnaccio.
Further north, in our cooler climes, the chestnut still grows well. Its magnificent silhouette is a familiar sight in parks, woods and gardens, but it struggles to produce such a plentiful harvest of good-sized nuts. This is one of the reasons it is not cultivated here, and why the chestnuts you find in our shops are nearly all imported European ones. Wild British chestnuts are smaller than their Continental counterparts and fruiting can be erratic – in some years, there aren’t many good, plump nuts to be had. But their wonderful flavour, even in small quantities, makes up for this.
Look for wild chestnuts from mid-October onwards, searching in the leaf litter under the trees. Go well prepared, with a stick for rooting about and stout gloves to help you remove the nuts from their prickly beds. Choose the biggest nuts and those that seem fat, firm and full inside their beautiful, glossy skins.
Chestnuts’ starchy-sweet character makes them wonderfully versatile. Once peeled, they can be left whole and braised in a stew, or crumbled and sautéed in butter with thyme and salt until crisp and golden (fantastic on risottos or pasta). They can be roughly crushed and folded into a meaty stuffing or a creamy vegetable gratin (especially one that includes Brussels sprouts).
Puréed chestnuts are a luscious ingredient in sweet dishes. Just simmer them in water, milk or a light syrup until nice and tender then blitz with some of the cooking liquor to create a velvety paste. Add sugar or honey to taste.
A sweet chestnut purée is delicious marbled with cooked apple and a little crème fraîche into an autumnal fool, or slathered over the base of a Victoria sponge. Chocolate and meringue also pair well with chestnut, and highly sweetened chestnut purées can be preserved and eaten as a jam.
Ready-made chestnut purées – sweetened and unsweetened – are widely available, as are pre-cooked, vac-packed or tinned chestnuts. These save an awful lot of time and effort, and can be used in place of home-cooked nuts in most recipes, though they’re softer in texture. Sugar-soaked, candied chestnuts – marrons glacés – are a treat that I can’t resist around Christmas time.
Chestnut flour, milled from dried chestnuts, is another useful ingredient – much under-explored in British kitchens. It has a lovely dun colour and rich flavour and is wonderful in cakes, biscuits and pancakes. Combine it with wheat flour or use it alone (or with other gluten-free flours such as buckwheat, rice flour or ground almonds) if you want to avoid wheat. Despite the lack of gluten, you can still produce a surprisingly light, fluffy chestnut sponge by folding the flour into super-whipped eggs and sugar, with a good measure of baking powder.
If ever you land a particularly plentiful haul of nuts, you could follow John Wright’s instructions for making your own chestnut flour: pass cooked (but slightly underdone), peeled chestnuts through a mouli grater to produce flakes; dry these out in a very low oven (at 40°C) for several hours; then blitz in a food processor. It is, as he never tires of reminding me, damn good. Chestnut flour has a high moisture content and can go off rather quickly so it’s best kept in the fridge after opening.
How to prepare chestnuts
You cannot skin a raw chestnut; they need to be roasted or boiled first. Boiling is quicker but roasting makes them more fragrantly tempting.
In all cases, cut the skin of the chestnuts first to prevent them exploding on cooking: use a small, sharp knife to make a slit through the skin from the tufted tip down to the base of the nut.
To boil, put slit chestnuts in a pan and cover with boiling water. Bring back to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes, then take off the heat. Taking them one at a time, and working while they are still hot, use a small knife to help you remove both the tough outer rind and the thinner, inner skin. The nuts will be cooked but still crunchy and can be cooked further.
For roasting chestnuts over embers, you need a metal receptacle, ideally one with holes. I have been known to use a coal shovel or an empty tin can, punched full of holes and with the lid still attached, but you can buy purpose-made chestnut roasting pans. Fill your roaster no more than half-full of slit chestnuts and place it on the embers. Shake it or poke the nuts every now and then, to turn them. They should be done in about 15 minutes and you can then peel off the skins using your fingers, or a knife. You can also roast chestnuts in a hot oven (at 200°C/Fan 180°C/Gas 6) for 20–30 minutes.
ROASTED SQUASH WITH CHESTNUTS, SAUSAGE AND SAGE
A perfect autumnal supper dish, this can be made with fresh or vac-packed chestnuts. Serves 4
500g squash, such as butternut or sweet onion
2 tbsp olive or rapeseed oil
1 tbsp roughly chopped sage
2 garlic cloves, sliced
4 pork sausages (about 250g)
250g chestnuts, cooked and peeled (see How to prepare chestnuts) or 200g vac-packed chestnuts
Sea salt and black pepper
Preheat the oven to 190°C/Fan 170°C/Gas 5. Peel and deseed the squash, then cut the flesh into 3–4cm pieces. Place in a roasting tray, trickle with the oil and scatter over the chopped sage, garlic and some salt and pepper. Roast in the oven, stirring once, for 30 minutes, or until tender.
Squeeze the sausagemeat out of its skin and crumble it over the squash. Scatter over the chestnuts. Toss everything together, then return to the oven for about 25 minutes until the sausage is cooked and the squash and chestnuts are starting to brown nicely.
Allow to stand for 3–4 minutes before serving, with a crisp autumnal salad – a celeriac and cabbage slaw is good.
