cold, damp, wet.
unable to get warm.
a long school day.
playing. hands covered in charcoal.
class dismissed. a walk to get food for dinner. the public market.
some fish. potatoes. good cheese. olives stuffed with lemon.
on my way out I smell them cooking on a cart.
small talk with an elderly man who stirs the nuts with a metal spoon and tells me they will be a few more minutes (“they are not done until they are soft and chewy inside”). we talk mostly about the weather and how it’s warmer here than back east. he wears one white glove on his left hand (I learned later it was so he could put the hot nuts into the small paper bag, while holding the bag with his ungloved hand).
I hand him six dollars.
he hands me a bag of nuts and they warm my hands all the way down the street.
they smell smoky as I peel the shell off and I bite into their strange chewy texture. I am hooked.
I think I have a new addiction.
both my husband and sister feel they are they are one of the more challenging things (read: disgusting) they have ever consumed.
I’ve been dreaming about them at night.
sadly the dog ate the last four I was saving for the next day.
but it’s okay.
I’m going back next week.
and I have all week to be excited about it.
addendum: I found a very interesting post about roasted chestnuts in Spain.