Today we have been foraging. Our friendly local farmer told us his chestnut tree was dropping nuts all over the place and would we like them. He even brought a couple over to show us they were the proper eating ones.
Well I couldn’t say no. I mean – almost every Christmas I am taunted by the thought of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, however Jack Frost is never nipping at my nose. Christmas is too hot for all of that and there isn’t a single chestnut to be seen.
So bolstered by a vague memory too close to two decades ago than I care to admit; of the amazing taste of warm, sweet, smoky chestnuts roasted in the street of quant town in England on a freezing winter night, I decided it would be a great idea.
In my enthusiasm I raced out the door with a recycle shopping bag and a bucket and a reluctant Tim the Helper. I had just under an hour as I had to collect the Joeyosaurus from rugby practice and his number one supporter Hubby the Un-Gardener. Driving like some kind of over excited nutter (nut collector) but ever so safely through road works and down country lanes I soon found the tree and true to the farmer’s word there were prickly little orbs all over the place.
My now extremely reluctant Tim the Helper and I set about gathering as many as possible. But my boy didn’t half moan and carry on as he filled his bucket to the top. But in this particular instance – the moaning and bleating was actually justified. I think in hindsight it would have been wise to take some gloves! To give the kid credit, he did fill his bucket and I don’t imagine the afternoon will be one forgotten in a hurry and I can see him one day regaling his kids about the day he was dragged out into an autumn afternoon to have his fingertips perforated because his crazy mother was on one of her weird and wonderful projects.
After removing most of the irritating little prickles from our fingers I now have a very large bag and a bucket full of the prickly balls and my research tells me to act quickly as they can easily go stale. But with the pain in my fingers a fresh memory, I have to admit, I’m a little afraid. But I promised to make the sticky sweet glazed chestnuts as compensation for what I put him through and I can’t let him down.
Come again soon – I’m sure I’ll do something amazing with the chestnuts.
Sarah the Gardener : o )