We all know the picturesque way to roast chestnuts. Come on, sing along; you know you want to. And believe us, if the SFist test kitchen possessed an open fire, we'd buy a chestnut pan and snuggle in front of the fireplace, toasting the dark-brown nuts and popping the sweet meat into our mouths like bonbons. Provided, of course, that the pan fit behind the spitjack we plan to buy when the fireplace appears.

Peeling techniques and dish suggestions after the jump.

Photos by Melissa Schneider

Lacking a hearth, we peel chestnuts in a less romantic fashion. Conventional wisdom suggests that you remove the tough brown exterior by cutting a small x in the bottom of the nut, roasting at 350° for 10 minutes, and then peeling off the shell to expose the yellow, brain-like chestnut. We read that advice long ago, but since then books and magazines have shown us that there are many ways to skin a chestnut. Cook's Illustrated suggests an equatorial gash that runs around the nut without slicing into the meat. Roast as with the x cut, and you'll be able to pop off each hemisphere. But the papery inner layer will still be fused onto the nut like shrinkwrap.

The Zuni Cafe Cookbook provided the winning technique for stripping the unpleasant garments from the chestnut. Slide a paring knife or oyster knife parallel to the meat under the tough shell on the flat side of the nut. Wiggle the knife to make a sizable pocket. Place the chestnuts in simmering water for 10 minutes. Remove a chestnut, put it in a dish towel, and peel off the two skins. Easy peasy. If you've got a reluctant bit of inner skin, just redunk the nut for a couple of minutes.

Once you've disrobed the meat, the starchy nugget adds sweetness and a subtle nut flavor to any number of savory dishes. (Candied chestnuts, or marrons glacés go into many a dessert, but even we are not quite crazy enough to do the multi-day candying process.) Friend of SFist meriko once wowed us with her photo of chestnut and ginger soup, poured tableside over ginger cr`me fraîche and a whole chestnut. We put crumbled bits of the meat into a risotto with butternut squash, creating an almost sugary entrée that would work well with a German Riesling.

Given the fall and winter bird-roasting bonanza, you won't be surprised to learn that chestnuts often find their way into stuffings. We served Cornish Game Hens with just-peeled chestnuts, cubes of apple, slices of chanterelle mushrooms, and a mix of wild and white rice. A glass of Merlot rounded out the dinner.

The Zuni Cafe Cookbook described its excellent peeling technique as a prelude to a recipe for chestnuts in warm sage oil with prosciutto. We swapped in tarragon oil and crisped the Italian ham for an intriguing small appetizer or shared tapas plate.

Chestnuts formed a key part of of the East Coast landscape, making up 25 per cent of the hardwood forests, until an Asian fungus wandered over to our shores in the early 20th century and decimated the American Chestnut. Karmic payback, perhaps, for the phylloxera louse that traveled on American vines to Europe and decimated that continent's wine industry. Today, organizations such as the The American Chestnut Foundation work to revive our native crops through breeding and other scientific knowledge.

Chestnuts spoil quickly, even in their protective coat, so store them in a container in the refrigerator until you're ready to use them.