Seasonal musings, reprise

A long while back, more years than I really wish to think about, I was stationed in merry old England.  I hated the first month I was there.  Once I got used to the fact that it was what it was and that’s what made it an incredible place, I had a BLAST!

I, as my sister is so fond of saying, am a crazy man.  I love roasted chestnuts and they’re damn near impossible to find up here.  The local Fred Meyer has them during the Christmas season and I scarf them up whenever I can find them.  The trouble is they don’t last long.  I managed to get a couple pounds the other day.

One of my favorite memories of England was going down to London near the holidays and wandering around Oxford and Regent Streets.  They had guys on the corners with these charcoal burning roasters full of chestnuts. The aroma drifted for what seemed miles.  Mix that with the tang of coal smoke and I’m right back there.  Nothing beat a warm bag of chestnuts right out of the roaster on a crisp, cloudy winter’s day.  It was a great treat and a baragin at any price.  About a quid and a half if memory serves me…….

I did up a dozen or so of the little buggers this afternoon.  I had to use the oven and that sorta took a bit of the charm out of things, but the neighbor’s burning coal to help heat his place.  It’s not London, but it’s close.


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