Basque ethnography at a glance

Family in the kitchen of the house of Isasi Barrenengua’s family. Author: Indalecio Ojanguren. Gure Gipuzkoa.

Chestnuts have always been the perfect solution to the cold of autumn and winter, and consequently chestnuts salesman-woman. When the days are cut off and the cold begins to shine, there is something that takes root in the chestnuts and in the chestnut stalls themselves. Is it the taste of chestnuts? The sweetness, the warmth, the texture, the different flavours of the food. The smell, maybe? It smells hot, so it seems to warm up the area. Gathering and feeding around the drum has something magical. The sound of the drum is unpleasant and attractive, and the fire of burning chestnuts seems to be calling us. How can we avoid approaching the embers under the drum in search of warmth? The context seems to induce us to listen to our senses. How can we avoid approaching the chestnut salesman’s post once a year?

What is attractive today has had a lot to say in our past. Throughout history chestnut salesmen were usually women, women dressed in a wool shawl that is part of our imagination, although the vast majority of sellers that can be found today are men. We could say that these are prestigious jobs, because it is a very old trade and, in general, for all that the food itself has and conveys. They played an important role in the past, because they served, among other things, to kill hunger and cold. There were three kinds of vendors: chestnuts sold in portals, streetcars, and bars, cooked or roasted. As Manuel Breton de los Herreros says, “Is there a more powerful incentive for wine than chestnuts?”

As at present, the most appetizing chestnuts were roasted, and that is why the posts where they sold roasted chestnuts were also licensed in the townships. It appears that the sellers who sold chestnut cooked were less ranked, because the capital or means of cooking were cheaper; for the anise for handling had no cost, and the coal for heating was of little value, and they could obtain water free of charge and from the fountains. More coal, table, drum, brackets, and other resources were needed to burn.

Unfortunately, there are very few chestnut salesmen left. In the case of Gipuzkoa, especially in Tolosa, there were several chestnut sellers, but after the coronavirus no chestnut salesman has returned. In bigger cities it is easier to find chestnut salesmen; in San Sebastian, among other things, it is the first place to be seen when you come down from the railway station. These are posts that are popular with people who like chestnuts, who warm their hands and bodies on cold afternoons, and who have access to an unusual meal that they don’t usually eat. Even those who do not like chestnuts have confessed to me that they must approach these posts once a year, in order to announce their bodies that the cold has arrived with that atmosphere. We are still in time to approach the chestnut salesmen of our towns and awaken our senses!

Aintzane Cortajarena, anthropologist