It started with the best of intentions.
Beating back a negative 4 degree Annus Novus with a couple friends and a little traditional French compoting. Compoting? Crème de marrons to be sure.
Peak marrons season is fading, but those dang chestnuts are still everywhere you look.
Sri Lankan purveyors fan the scent of roasting marrons into the caverns and crevices of the metro, penetrating even the most cynical Parisian with memories of childhood or what could-have-been.
My San Francisco blogger friend posted her grandmother's recipe for crème de marrons. I tried to resist but I had to beat the marrons at their own game. You think you can make me wont and reminisce of things that never happened? I'll show you, you chestnutty fiends!
Recipe for, well, good times with chestnuts includes: one Barbra, one Sharon, one Lassaigne, one reasonable slice of duck mousse from Madame, and one kilo of marrons from the market.
Get ready to feel the pain. Fingers and fingernails wrest stubborn husks and inner husks from the buttery châtaignes (NB: although the pain might have been dulled somewhat by the Lassaigne, a sub-fingernail splinter can smart for days).
Pop into large pot with a vanilla bean and bay leaf, cook until tender, then puree in food mill or processor if smooth texture is desired.
The result is a gooey, earthy, delectable compote to spread on anything from ice cream to toast. Consider the inherent vanilla, butter, and subtle bread flavors of the marron and prescribe as necessary.
With my kitchen now in ruins, I'm using crème de marrons to flavor my coffee.
Montant à payer:
6 euro / kilo marrons
2 euro / vanilla bean
.02 euro / bay leaf from La Bovida
