Castagnaccio (Chestnut cake with ricotta)

Castagnaccio is an ancient recipe, a dessert that recounts the Tuscan peasant woman's triumph over poverty and hunger. Chestnut flour would substitute often wheat flour when this was not available, especially in the mountains. The simplest version involves a basic batter of chestnut flour, water, extra virgin olive oil and rosemary, resulting in a cake with an almost biting, smoky flavour and a texture similar to bread pudding. And yet castagnaccio is in some ways a surprisingly modern dessert. It contains no sugar, and is naturally gluten and lactose free. More elaborate versions call for dried fruit and raisins to be added along with its fundamental ingredient, of course: chestnut flour. Its name derives from castagna, the Italian word for chestnut. The first time you taste it, castagnaccio's floury texture melts in your mouth along with its sweet chestnut flavour, a flavour that for we who grew up with it evokes memories of children in winter coats and woolen gloves, of a warm paper bag containing 1,000 lire's worth of roasted chestnuts, the shop lights seen from the street with mother and father, and the sweet taste of this timeless winter treat. Talk of castagnaccio among Tuscans can quickly turn into a heated discussion, as every area uses a different kind of dried fruit and different herbs and spices. Until recently, I would have bet all on the pairing of raisins and pine nuts, a classic where I'm from, but I changed my mind after tasting a version from Garfagnana. Denser, sweeter, less floury, this version is made not only with raisins and pine nuts, but also includes walnuts and, most interestingly, orange zest. The citrus notes lend a Christmastime touch to the cake. That for castagnaccio is an acquired taste. A good extra virgin olive oil, the smoked flavour of chestnut flour, the herbaceous smell of rosemary, the absence of sugar: we can hardly match all this with the idea of a dessert. I will always remember the first time I made castagnaccio for a Finnish friend. With enormous kindness she tried it, but then she could not go further than the first bite. After a hesitant silence she exclaimed it tastes like reindeer! This is when I realized that you need an ally to make everyone appreciate the chestnut cake: ricotta. The combination with ricotta is a classic for the Tuscan cuisine: it works with necci, and makes also the castagnaccio easier to be appreciated for those who are not used to its taste. As we are in a festive atmosphere, I cut out some discs from the chestnut cake and I sandwiched them with a filling of ricotta. I previously whipped the ricotta with just a little sugar, and added chocolate chips and candied orange peel. A final dusting of icing sugar, like a light snowfall, turns the chestnut cake into a Christmas sweet treat, one I would have prepared to end a dinner with my old friends.