It’s finally happened: she’s lost the plot. If any of you are worried that I might be about to break into terrible verse on the merits of the humble chestnut in manner of Wordsworth or Keats getting excited about daffodils and clouds, well you’d be almost right. But frankly I haven’t the time of the energy to think up lots of chestnut-related rhyming couplets or iambic pentameter…s. That said, this is an entire post dedicated to the sheer abundance of chestnut-related snacks I’ve had here in Japan.
Truth be told, I’ve always been a fan. I enjoy the autumnalness of them and have, in the past, gone out and collected them, roasted them, and then sworn at them as I try to peel them. I always assumed their annoying fiddliness was the reason they never quite made it big in the autumn honours lists of seasonally aesthetic snacks; pumpkins have held the title for decades. In fact, other than the truly revolting marron glacé from the French, chestnuts are rarely seen in any sort of regular shopping establishment.
Imagine my delight to discover that here in Japan, they are a beloved seasonal snack, come in many varieties and forms from pre-peeled and in small snack packets to ridiculously decadent cakes, and are readily available available in all standard minimarts!
It all began when we checked into our first hotel in Tokyo. You may remember I mentioned that after checking in, we were bizarrely confronted with an iPad on which a classic fruit-tumbler machine game was displayed. I won a teeth whitening kit (left behind, unopened) and Alex won some chestnuts.
He later opened them, put one in his mouth and was disgusted by the texture: brain saw “nut”, mouth expected “cronch”. I assumed at this point that they were similar to the aforementioned disgusting French nonsense, commiserated with Alex on his horrid experience, and forgot about them.
The following day they were still on the desk in the room. Feeling a little peckish and overcome with curiosity, I decided to take a nibble, more than anything to prove to myself that (what I thought were) marron glacé were indeed, vile and an abomination towards nature. But wait! What’s this? Not in fact, a rancid glacé but a pre-peeled, unadulterated, roasted chestnut? Nothing had ever tasted so wonderful. I consumed the entire pack (about 8 small chestnuts), much to Alex’s horror and disbelief.
They were gone, the dream was over. I tried to move on with my life. But then, lo! What do I spy next to the dried mango and weird sour plum packets in the local Lawsons? Why! It is a different brand of chestnuts in an adorable chestnut-shaped package! I simply had to have it! And there, my friends, is where the chestnut obsession began.
From that day forth, every time I saw a slightly differently designed packet of chestnuts I thought “must try them”. Any new and exciting chestnut-related item? Had to be mine! Peeled chestnuts, chestnuts still in their shell, chestnut softserve ice cream, chestnut-filled wafers, chestnut-choco latte, chestnut pudding cup, chestnut pancakes and, I’m sure, many more. There were some I didn’t try, namely the too expensive or frivolous. But I have tried as many as I can and will continue to do so on these Japanese isles.
Aside from that very first miraculous packet won in the iPad slot machine at our first hotel, I have taken photos of all my chest-nut consumptions. Here, in no particular order, I shall rate them out of 8, for no particular reason. Enjoy.
Thank you for coming on this journey of discovery with me. May it ignite a newfound passion for chestnuts in your heart. Perhaps you may even go out in these autumnal days and gather some up from their prickly shells, roast them, then swear when they’re still impossible to remove from their shells. Don’t accidentally eat conkers though. That would be bad. I hope you enjoyed my nonsense and I hope that we will see more chestnut-related snacks in the UK in the future. After all, seasonal produce is better. Ciao!