Marron glacé are glazed candied chestnuts from France and they are delicious. I commented to Hayward yesterday that the French and the Japanese seem quite tuned into the magnificence of the chestnut, while the US remains oblivious. But he reminded me of the smell of roasted chestnuts wafting through the streets of New York City.
It's funny he should mention New York because I've been missing it so much lately, and the whole East Coast in general. I live in one of the very best places to celebrate Christmas in the world. And I love it here, and if I were there I know I'd be longing for here. But I still can't stop longing for there. What is it about the holidays that makes everything feel so acute, despite your resolve to just enjoy things as they are? How does a sugar cookie or string of lights move you so quickly between sheer delight and a sudden strange sadness? What is with that FUN!/haunt holiday roller coaster?
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