American vs. Chinese Chestnuts

Reader Melanie wants to know the differences between Chinese chestnut trees and American ones, since Chinese chestnuts are some of the only trees available to plant. I’m certainly not an expert on trees, Melanie, but I’ll tell you what I know. Though the chestnut tree species that produce the largest nuts come from Eurasia, there were species of chestnuts in America before European settlers arrived here. Native Americans ate the fruit of these trees for millennia.

Sadly, American chestnut trees were almost entirely wiped out when a chestnut “blight” was accidentally introduced in 1904, most likely on some Japanese chestnut saplings imported to the East Coast. By 1940 chestnut blight had killed an estimated 4 billion chestnut trees in the States. The Appalachian Mountain forests, which were about 25% chestnut, were especially hard hit. The blight also killed off most of the imported European species which were nearly as susceptible to blight.

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Size Makes a Difference

Reader Emily makes a great point: trace impurities may not have much impact on the way a salt tastes, but the size and shape of the salt crystals definitely do. Very true. And again, that’s not because the salt is any different chemically, but because crystals of varying sizes and shapes have different surface areas, and so dissolve at different rates.

Salt grains come in two basic shapes: granules and flakes. Granules are the shape we’re all used to, the little perfect cubes we all know as “table salt”. If you remember from other discussions on the subject of crystals (fat crystals, starch crystals, ice crystals), crystallization is what happens when molecules of the same type start stacking up upon one another. Given that molecules of sodium chloride are cubical, it’s easy to see why they might naturally want to stack up into cube shapes. In fact, given the right conditions, salt can grow into huge cubical crystals known as halite, which can be anything up to 4 or 5 inches across.

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On Gourmet Salts

On something of a side note, reader Jaye wants to know if gourmet salts are worthwhile, in baking or otherwise. Jaye, I’m something of a contrarian here, as I believe that all the fuss over salt these past few years, well…it’s just a lot of hooey. All “eating” salts are chemically identical: NaCl, or sodium chloride, a molecule made up of about two-thirds chlorine and one-third sodium. Whether you get it from the sea or from the Earth makes no difference, in the end it’s all the same thing, which makes it impossible for one gourmet salt to really, really taste different from another. Dissolved in water, I’ll defy the most sensitive palate to tell the difference between gourmet salt A and gourmet salt B.

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Dang Interwebs

I haven’t had web access at the command center all day. Which isn’t that bad a thing since I haven’t had much to blog about. Due to (ehem) operator error, the chestnut paste I ordered last week went to my sister in St. Louis by mistake. I thought it was taking a while!

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Old Man of the Forest

Foodstuffs are just the beginning of a chestnut tree’s utility. They grow fast, and when full-sized are practically lumber yards with roots. They regenerate lost limbs with astonishing speed, and so became ready, self-replenishing resources wherever they grew. Of course you could cut one down and use it for planking too, but regenerating chestnut shoots grow straight and strong, and as such are useful for pole roofs, grape trellises, all sorts of things.

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The Bread Tree

Mont blanc is something of a showcase for chestnut paste, and that’s no accident. For millennia chestnuts have been synonymous with the Alps, especially the alps of Northern Italy, where chestnuts were a staple starch in the centuries following the fall of the Roman Empire.

Chestnut trees originated in southwestern Turkey, where they were cultivated as far back as 2000 B.C.. They were “discovered” by Westerners in the first few centuries B.C., so it’s said by Alexander the Great during his eastern campaigns. The chestnut fruit appealed strongly to a military man like Alexander, packed as it is with vitamins and starch. Ounce-for-ounce chestnuts have twice as many calories as potatoes. They last forever and eminently portable.

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Where Does Mont Blanc Come From?

This particular pastry has a more definitive history than most. It’s all but synonymous with the pastry shop Angelina which is located across from the Louvre in Paris. The establishment was opened by a fellow by the name of Antoine Rumplemeyer, which by strange coincidence is the very name I use whenever I’m traveling incognito. Guess I need a new alias, my cover is blown. Dang.

Rumplemeyer’s family had emigrated to southern France from Austria-Hungary in the late nineteenth century. Finding no Viennese-style coffee houses there, they decided to open their own. They began in Nice, spread to Monte Carlo and ultimately to Paris where Antoine opened Angelina in 1903. That was the year he invented the Mont Blanc, or according to some, only updated and took credit for it.

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Mont Blanc Recipe

This is my version of mont blanc. It incorporates all the elements of the original: chestnut spread, meringue and whipped cream which, while perhaps not a symphony of texture and flavor, are at least a heck of a good concerto. The difference is that this interpretation delivers all the components in a format that’s easier to prepare, build, store and serve. Notice that the ingredient list calls for pre-made chestnut spread, which is easier to get than chestnut paste, and may well be available at your closest boutique food store. I found some here in Louisville at a local specialty shop after ordering it twice online. Serves me right! You’ll need:

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France’s Fast Food Problem

It’s hard to make it there, says a very interesting article in today’s Wall Street Journal (the article is behind a pay wall, I think). Evidently everything from processed cheeses to tomatillos to corn fit for human consumption can be very hard to come by. That’s a big frustration, certainly for foreign food chain operators, but also for food truck entrepreneurs seeking to pull off higher-end versions of American and British lunchtime staples. Where do you get pastrami in Paris? Who knows?

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