“Bianca, if you’re going to New York at Christmas time, you have to have roasted chestnuts.” Those were the parting words as I packed up last week. Today, I took my mom’s advice and celebrated the age old tradition of picking up a paper baggy of hot, sweet chestnuts from a street cart.
Braving the cold, I bundled up today in my new, chic New York winter outfit (black bell-sleeved mini dress over a fitted gray turtle neck, black tights and comfortable black wedge boots) and strolled, smiling like an excited little kid, as I observed all the sights along 5th Avenue, passing the LED tree at Rockefeller Center and the elaborately tacky, albeit charming, displays at the windows of Saks.
Somewhere around 5th Avenue and 52nd Street, I was overwhelmed by the tempting aromas of toasted chestnuts. My eyes lit up as my memory took me back to Christmas in Switzerland in 1999 when we had warmed our numb hands on Heisse Maroni.
Excited, I approached the street vendor, ordered by bag of hot chestnuts, then stuffed them at the bottom of my purse to keep warm then proceeded with a quick step to Central Park. Sitting on the sunlight bench as tourists, excited children and couples in love strolled past me, I peeled the shells off the fleshy, wrinkly centers. Never have blackened fingers been so worth it.
This is a huge holiday trend in New York, popular among European tourists and locals alike.
