12 Days of Fuck This: 3 Places Roasted Chestnuts Don't Belong
Every person in the English-speaking world knows the lyrics of Mel Tormé's "The Christmas Song." More specifically, its opening line: "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire." It's a romantic image, no? Curled up by a bonfire or encircling a fireplace, a hot-toddy in one hand, your phone probably in the other, watching as a nut overheats only to emanate the most ghastly odors known to mankind. Hey, what better than that? Well, I now know...a lot.
When I was a kid, I was desperate to try a roasted chestnut at Christmas time. I love a good almond, occasionally crave a salty cashew, and peanuts are so perfect to me that I've been known to eat the shells. The Nuts 4 Nuts carts on every Manhattan street corner? I stop at one once a week and privately sing this little song to myself each time. That said, I imagined I'd be pretty into a roasted chestnut, though I never actually sought them out. Frankly, living in New York hasn't exactly helped. Have you ever smelled a roasted chestnut? Perhaps it's how they're being prepared (on a dirty street) or, the dirty street smells are just that overpowering, but they reek. Like burnt bark and broken dreams.
Still, when I eventually tried a roasted chestnut as an adult after a neighbor brought my parents a bag for Christmas, I was stoked. Here was my chance to decide whether or not they were for me. Spoiler alert: they're not. And not only are they not for me, I seriously wonder why they would be for anyone. When roasted, chestnuts are too dense, too soft to be considered a nut, too sweet, and worst of all, they look too much like a testicle. These sad realities ruined the entire romantic image for me. What the hell was Mel Tormé on?
Frankly, I think it's high time we normalize roasting different nuts over the fire at Christmastime. Some pecans? A hazelnut, perhaps. While those may not pack the same lyrical punch, there are just some places where roasted chestnuts don't belong no matter how many crooners tell me otherwise. I've taken the liberty of counting them down:
3. Food: Italians put roasted chestnuts in pasta and polenta; Australians make them into burger patties; and the Japanese sneak them into rice. Americans...brew them into beer (sigh). I truly admire the creativity—even the patties. Then again, there is such a thing as a roasted chestnut puree. Where do we draw the line here? Apparently not at #2...
2. Drinks: In my research, I have come upon a myriad of drinks that contain roasted chestnuts. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire cocktail? Simply reading the ingredients is giving me a stomachache. A holiday chestnut sour? That's an absolute abomination. A roasted chestnut martini? Might as well do as the Romans and install an at-home vomitorium. And yeah, there's also the chestnut beer. Almond and oat milk aside, anyone who wants to drink something that tastes like a nut should be evaluated.
1. My mouth: Just thought I'd make this explicitly clear.
The celebration of the worst kind of nut (well, second worst) at this time of year is simply further proof that everything about Christmas actually does suck, and we've merely been conditioned to accept sappy songs and festive proselytizing. If we're being honest, just like no one actually likes "O Holy Night," not a single person actually enjoys roasted chestnuts.
Would you drink the roasted chestnut martini? Let me roast you in the comments.
And if you haven’t been following along:
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