Chestnuts are one of those foods for me. They always make me feel like I'm on a picnic in the European countryside, or cooking with an elderly woman in her Italian villa, or walking down the dark streets of London in winter with some roasted chestnuts to warm my cold hands, or snacking with friends in my Parisian dream kitchen (although they never snack in France, so that one is a stretch). Those fantasies are actually a little odd, now that I think of it, because some of my favorite chestnut snacks come from the Asian market, where I can't read 90 percent of the packages, but if I see a picture of a chestnut, I will snatch it up and gobble it down. Tiny round pancakes sandwiched with a rich chestnut jam are always the first thing I head for at the candy shop in Chinatown. But somehow, they still feel very European to me.
