At half Giulio Cesare in front of us waiting for the castagnacciaro. You had a choice: either the most economic, boiled and a little 'dry, or that the oven with olive oil and sometimes pine nuts. Everything depended on me by the commissions I did for my father, who did not pay me but I was refunded the tram to Piazza Cavour, tram that I took. With thirty cents a pound could buy a slice of well-roasted chestnut, with fifteen of the flickering boiled chestnut. That it was good I just can not say, but in any case served to quench your hunger and it was better than "pattona" who ate my home in the last days of the month (to Patton was a puree of chestnut flour).
I have in head trying in vain online a picture of the old castagnacciaro more interesting than that I enclose.
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