Chestnuts are a Yankee ploy to take out as many southerners as possible. It's like those unexploded mines people find years after conflict is over. It doesn't matter that the fighting is over, someone is going to get fucked up in the extreme.
I got the unassuming looking nuts and did a little research on the internet about preparation. I went and threw a few on the grill a week or so ago while I was making some steak and reading. Hey, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire", right???
The Web told me that chestnuts are pretty much the first food that man may have hunted/gathered. And that it comes in a near inpenetrable cone with spikes. And a near inpenetrable shell. And that if you eat it undercooked it gives you "Intestinal Distress". Upon reflection, that's nature's way of telling you NOT to eat something, short of painting it poison frog red.
I heard a tiny little "pop" out on the grill and ran out to find my chestnuts had popped and split their shells! How cute!
The flavor? Not so great. Sort of like a potato, nothing like a nut. In fact, my research found that most chestnut recipes revolve around making the noble chestnut taste as far from a chestnut as humanly possible.
So today, being make-a-turkey-since-we-didn't-get-leftov
Okay, I did see the warning about how some of them might explode, but I was thinking like they did on the grill, which is what I wanted.
I did not expect them to go off like fucking M-80s.
The first one went in the oven and scared the cats so badly that they were gone for almost an hour.
I pulled them out and let them cool, then began cutting small holes to get them started on shelling. Some hissed. Another blew up on me. Literally blew up on me. And covered my face and hair with a spongy, moist white substance. It's like a Vegan Japanese pervert's wet dream.
QWP, Context is gooey and sticky, but can't get you pregnant.