urban beets

The garlic of the nut world

Yes, my patience has been tested before. Peeling garlic for confit, for example, sounds easy for the first five minutes — until you find yourself doomscrolling ways to peel it faster instead of actually peeling it (don’t lie, you’ve been there too). The jar trick, the shake method… we’ve all tried them.

But recently, I met a worthier foe: chestnuts.

It all started with these fateful words:
“Do you like chestnuts? I can make marron glacé for you.” — said by a delusional boyfriend in love.

Then came the response:
“Yes! My friend also loves marron glacé and got some chestnuts so you can make it for us!”

And that’s how I dug my own grave.

Don’t get me wrong — I’d do anything for my loved person. But next time, I’d prefer to plan my acts of culinary devotion with a little less chaos.

The Battle Begins

Chestnuts are simple in theory but intimidating in practice.

Let’s just say I earned several cuts trying to score them open. There’s a reason people have special chestnut tools — which, of course, I didn’t have in my “standard, not-chestnut-friendly” kitchen.

The process is long. YouTube tutorials that promise “marron glacé in 1 hour” are straight-up lies.

So I tried the “traditional” method: boil them to death. OVER AND OVER.

But first — peeling.

I did what anyone would do: googled it. Watched videos. Debated between boiling and oven-roasting. But then, by some divine intervention, I stumbled upon an Instagram reel of a chef microwaving chestnuts for a few seconds to peel them easily.

Mind. Blown.

I didn’t believe it at first (trust issues developed from the garlic jar hack), but I gave it a shot and… it worked!

Was it real? Can i do it for garlic? I had too many questions but was to excited to try or google them atm.

I was so excited I immediately sent a picture to my girlfriend — my triumph captured in one single, perfectly peeled chestnut. Sadly, that was the only one that came off so easily.

From there, chaos resumed. I trusted the microwave again and ended up burning my hands over and over, trying to peel piping-hot chestnuts while desperately avoiding more knife cuts.

Days of Boiling (and Despair)

Then came the “easy” part: boiling them in syrup — equal parts chestnuts, sugar, and water — for a few hours.

Day 1: Boil.
Day 2: Boil again, add more water, question my life choices.
Day 3: Decided to vacuum-pack them and cook them sous-vide style in the boiler (in theory, genius; in practice… questionable idiot).

Day 4: Same process, because at that point I was committed.
By Day 5, I opened the bag full of hope — only to bite into what felt like a piece of firewood. My confidence collapsed instantly.

In the end, I salvaged what I could: scraping out the soft parts, separating the edible ones from the wood-hard disasters.

The results:
• Soft pieces
• Hard, bad-cooked nuts
• A few actual marron glacé survivors

The Redemption (Montebianco)

With the soft bits, I made a cream for Monte Bianco (Montblanc) — one of my girlfriend’s favorite desserts. I was determined to redeem myself.
Since I can’t easily make hard-whipped cream at home, I went with a whipped-cream bavaroise base, topped it with a chestnut cream made from mascarpone, rum, and the candied chestnut pieces, and added a chestnut-hazelnut crumble at the bottom.

The first attempt was a ugly disaster. The cream solidified in the fridge, and piping it felt like trying to squeeze concrete through a bag. But she smiled — and that made it all worth it.

The next morning, I tried again, making a prettier version (still missing the powdered sugar topping). She asked for more cream this time. So, I’ll take that as a win.

Was It Worth It?

According to ChatGPT (yeah, I asked), my chest-nuts were probably old and dry — go ahead, laugh, naughty person.

I started with 700 g each of chestnuts, sugar, and water.
I ended up with:
• ~120–140 g of usable marron glacé
• ~200 g of semi-cooked chestnut bits (after carving every possible soft part)
• ~1000 g of chestnut syrup
So, a 15–20% success rate, with another 20–25% in by-products. Not the best ROI — and that’s without counting the cuts, burns, and five days of gas usage (thankfully, I didn’t pay for that — shoutout to Aurora in Feltre, Italy, the restaurant I currently work for. If you’re near Venice, it’s worth the 1-hour drive or 1.5-hour train ride — great views, great food).

Still, even after all the frustration, the tiny yield, and the chaos, the smile of the most beautiful girl made it 1000% worth it.

So tell me — do you have a preferred method to peel them?

Or are you also doomscrolling through “how to peel chestnuts faster” videos, questioning your life choices?

If so, let me know and lets find the true best method together, or share a drink telling stories about how we almost lost fingers peeling chestnuts!