Waiting for the Fall
Here’s a Chestnut: Good Things Come to Those Who Wait
The nutty sizzle of roasted chestnuts starts in northern Italy in early October and then works its way down the peninsula.
The nights turn cooler, the first yellow leaves appear. Then, one day, a castagnaro shows up on a street corner priming a wood fire in a dented steel drum. Soon, he’s turning glossy brown chestnuts over with metal tongs. A cloud of pale smoke drifts into the crisp air.
“Caldarroste! Calde, calde!” he’ll call out -- “Roasted chestnuts! Hot, hot!”
I saw my first castagnaro of the season on Sunday, in Rome’s Piazza San Silvestro. It was just his second day selling. He said the split roasted chestnuts he had were smaller than they’ll be a month from now. A paper cone set me back 5 euro.
The warm outer shell peeled away easily, revealing a crumbly core -- a smoky cross between a sweet potato and a baked apple.
It tasted like autumn.
A Sign of the Times
A friend in the neighborhood likes to practice his English with me. A few days ago, we ran into each other on the street, and he asked, “Are you ready for the fall?”
It’s been such a distracting time culturally and geopolitically that my mind took a strange turn: was he asking me if I was ready for The Fall? The end of times? The total collapse of society?
No, it was just small talk about the change of seasons. And yes, yes, I’m ready.
Without a doubt, this is my favorite season for Italian cuisine. Markets and osteria menus offer truffles, mushrooms, squash, pomegranate, and cauliflower. There’s olio nuovo. Soup, risotto, polenta, game meats.
The grape harvest works its way through the peninsula in the opposite direction from the chestnuts, starting in the south.
Unpretentious novello wines show up on shelves in early November, and the cooler temperatures are the perfect excuse to uncork wines made from the more muscular red grapes -- Aglianico, Nebbiolo, Sangiovese-- that would have been unthinkable a few weeks earlier. And, of course, a small glass of grappa is a tidy way to end a robust meal.
Strawberries in December
I was in my 20s when I first moved abroad and I still thought it was a mark of modern sophistication to expect whatever food I wanted whenever I wanted it. Strawberries in the winter? Watermelon to celebrate the new year? Fresh tomatoes, spinach, or zucchini year-round? Why not?
But the discovery that all these foods were seasonal was nothing compared to the discovery of what they really tasted like. It now seems to me that the fresh produce section of the Publix Supermarkets back home is populated by imposters.
Food lovers in Italy and many other countries are always waiting for something new to come into season: delicate peas are for sale in the markets by Easter; wild asparagus arrives after the first sunny days that follow the first rainy week in May; a tree-ripened fig’s decadent sweetness can’t be found before mid-June.
The Grapes at Last
It’s not as obvious, but similar cycles exist for wine. I’ve got nothing but love for a light, almondy Frascati wine -- or my new favorite, Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo (a rosato) -- with a light meal during Ferragosto. But I don’t want to see them once I start wearing sweaters.
Fall is when the brooding and ponderous Amaroni, Barbareschi and Brunelli, wines that until then were the choice of close-your-eyes-and-point tourists, become alluring again.
(Attenzione: It goes beyond remembering to drink whites when it’s hot and reds when it’s not, as a fresh and vibrant Lambrusco or Barbera vivace in July or a nutty, complex Trebbiano d’Abruzzo or a well-made Fiano di Avellino in December will attest).
I grew up in a part of Florida where a joke is that there were just two seasons -- summer and hurricane. In some form or another some people back home have said that it just takes a simple flip of the thermostat to turn a hot day into sweater weather.
But just as nothing can compare to in-season fruits and vegetables, no serious wine will taste as good as it does after daydreaming about it for the previous six months.
📌 And another thing
Novello wines are the Italian version of France’s better known Beaujolais Nouveau.
There are some differences between the two traditions, but what they have in common is that each is the first wine of its vintage released in its country -- the grapes that made the novelli you’ll see starting in a few weeks were on the vine just a few weeks ago -- and if you don’t drink them by the end of the year, it’ll be too late.
I’m usually not a big fan of vini novelli: they’re a little too fruity, too light for my taste. But there is one situation where they’re a perfect fit -- with freshly roasted chestnuts. The smoky and the fruity complement each other. Just make sure both are fresh: the chestnuts still warm and the novello freshly opened.
Want more complexity? You’re in luck because chestnut-based dishes marry well with some great fall and winter wines. Here are three of my favorites:
• Risotto with chestnuts and some kind of cured meat. My favorite choice is speck, but pancetta and guanciale, or even prosciutto all work in their own way. For a vegetarian version, skip the cured meat and add smoked scamorza. Here the wine pairing depends a bit on what is added to the chestnuts, but Lagrein from Alto Adige is a safe bet across the board. Or to think outside the box, try a sparkling rosato from Franciacorta.
• Chestnut and porcini soup. I love pairing a creamy-tasting soup like this with acidic wines like a Barbera from Piedmont or any of the younger Sangiovese-based wines like Chianti Classico, Rosso di Montalcino, or Rosso di Montepulciano.
• Any fowl -- chicken, turkey, duck, even game hens -- with a bread stuffing that includes chestnuts, minced sausage, and something sweet, like prunes or small chunks of apple. This has been my go-to Thanksgiving main dish for years. Here I’d pair it with one of the more mature Sangiovese wines like Brunello, Vino Nobile, or Chianti Classico Riserva. Or for an untraditional choice, try an Aglianico from Campania or Basilicata.
I know there are a lot of Substackers who focus predominantly on Italian food and wine. If you have a favorite chestnut recipe or wine pairing, please share it in the comments.
Absolutely my favorite season for Italian cuisine as well!
Ready for the Fall! I wouldn't have thought the same thing but I can see why you thought that. Dark and funny. Hahah!!