Castagnaccio

An ancient, naturally sweet flatcake of chestnut flour, water, and olive oil, scattered with pine nuts, raisins, walnuts, and whole rosemary needles, baked until the top cracks into a fine crackled crust: the autumn cake of the Tuscan and Ligurian mountains, where rosemary meets the sweetness of the chestnut

Origin: Tuscany and the Apennines, Italy

From the journey of Rosemary.

Castagnaccio is one of the oldest cakes of Italy, a humble, naturally sweet bake of the chestnut-growing Apennine mountains of Tuscany, Liguria, Emilia, and beyond, where chestnut flour was for centuries the bread-flour of the poor. It contains no added sugar, no eggs, and no wheat: its sweetness comes entirely from the chestnut flour, and its character from the things scattered over it, pine nuts, raisins, walnuts, and, surprisingly and wonderfully, whole needles of fresh rosemary. The resinous, savoury rosemary against the dense, earthy sweetness of the chestnut is the dish's defining and unmistakable note, a pairing that sounds unlikely and tastes inevitable. Dense, moist, and crackled on top, castagnaccio is an autumn and winter sweet, eaten with a glass of new wine or sweet ricotta.

Ingredients

Batter

  • 300 g chestnut flour, sifted
  • 450 ml water, at room temperature
  • 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus more for the tin and top
  • 0.25 tsp fine salt

Topping

  • 50 g raisins, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained
  • 40 g pine nuts
  • 40 g walnuts, roughly chopped
  • 2 tbsp fresh rosemary needles

Method

  1. Preheat the oven to 200°C (180°C fan / 400°F). Generously oil a 24cm round or rectangular shallow tin.
  2. Sift the chestnut flour into a bowl to remove lumps. Whisk in the water a little at a time to make a smooth, lump-free batter the consistency of single cream, then whisk in the olive oil and salt.
  3. Stir half the raisins, half the pine nuts, and half the walnuts into the batter. Pour into the prepared tin.
  4. Scatter the remaining raisins, pine nuts, and walnuts over the surface, then strew with the rosemary needles. Drizzle the top lightly with olive oil.
  5. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the surface is set, deep brown, and covered in the characteristic fine cracks, and the pine nuts are golden.
  6. Cool in the tin. Serve at room temperature, cut into squares or wedges, on its own or with fresh ricotta and a glass of sweet or new wine.

Notes

The quality of the chestnut flour is everything: it should be fresh and finely milled, as it stales and turns bitter with age. There is no sugar in a traditional castagnaccio; all the sweetness comes from the chestnut flour and the raisins. Regional versions vary in their toppings, but the trinity of pine nuts, raisins, and rosemary is the classic Tuscan combination. It is naturally vegan and gluten-free.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1880 CE
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1880 CE
5000 BCE1000 CE1340 CE1880 CE
Rosemary

Rosemary

Salvia rosmarinus (syn. Rosmarinus officinalis)

HerbsLamiaceae (the mint family): an evergreen aromatic shrub

🌍Origin

Mediterranean Basin — Gathered wild since deep antiquity from the rocky coasts of the Mediterranean basin; a single species (Salvia rosmarinus, long classified as Rosmarinus officinalis)

🌱Domestication

Rosemary is, unlike many of the great culinary herbs, a single species rather than a cluster of related plants: one evergreen, needle-leaved shrub of the Mediterranean coast, known to botanists for centuries as Rosmarinus officinalis and, since a molecular reclassification in 2017, as Salvia rosmarinus, a member of the vast sage genus. There are many cultivars, the tall upright bushes prized for cooking and the low, trailing, prostrate forms that spill over Mediterranean walls, but they are all one plant, and there is no second wild species in some distant land waiting to be claimed as another rosemary. The herb that scents a Tuscan roast, a Provençal grill, a Californian focaccia, and an Australian leg of lamb is, everywhere, the same Mediterranean shrub. Rosemary is a creature of the dry, rocky, sun-struck Mediterranean littoral, the limestone garrigue and coastal maquis where it grows wild within sight and scent of the sea. It is from this habitat that it takes its ancient Latin name, ros marinus, the dew of the sea, for the plant thrives on the salt-laden mists of the shore and seems to drink the very spray. Its tough, resinous, blue-flowered evergreen leaves are armoured against drought and heat, and they are dense with the aromatic compounds that give rosemary its unmistakable character: not the thymol of thyme but a piney, camphoraceous, faintly eucalyptus-like bouquet built on cineole, camphor, and the powerful antioxidants rosmarinic and carnosic acid. It was never domesticated in the manner of a grain; it was gathered from the wild hillsides for thousands of years and, in the gardens of antiquity and the cloisters of the Middle Ages, brought under cultivation as a plant of the kitchen, the apothecary, the altar, and the grave. More than almost any other herb, rosemary has carried a freight of meaning beyond its flavour. Its evergreen constancy and its lingering, memory-stirring scent made it, from the earliest Greek records, the herb of remembrance and fidelity, woven into the rites of weddings and of funerals alike, a plant that promised that the dead and the absent would not be forgotten. That double life, as one of the most useful seasonings of the Mediterranean kitchen and as the West's enduring emblem of memory, has followed rosemary across every sea it has crossed.

Global Voyage

Rosemary's journey is the spread of a single Mediterranean shrub outward from its native shore, first by the cultures of classical antiquity and then, in the age of empire, to the Mediterranean-climate corners of the New World. To the ancient Greeks rosemary was already the herb of memory: students are said to have wound it through their hair while studying, and it was burned as incense and held sacred to Aphrodite. Rome inherited and deepened the symbolism, holding rosemary sacred, weaving it into household rites, weddings, and funerals, planting it in every garden, and recording its virtues in the works of Pliny the Elder and Dioscorides. With their legions and their kitchen gardens the Romans carried the plant the length of the empire, north into Gaul and Britain, beginning its long naturalisation in the cooler lands beyond its native warmth. Through the Middle Ages rosemary moved on the twin currents of the kitchen and the still-room. Charlemagne ordered it grown on the imperial estates in his Capitulare de Villis of around 795, the monastic infirmary gardens cultivated it as a medicine, and in the fourteenth century it became the base of Hungary Water, by tradition compounded for an ailing queen of Hungary and counted amongst the first alcoholic perfumes of Europe. By tradition rosemary was carried to England in 1338, in a bundle sent to Queen Philippa of Hainault, and it took such root in the English imagination that Shakespeare could have Ophelia say, and every audience understand, 'There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.' It was scattered at weddings and laid upon coffins, and it became the classic English partner to roasted lamb. It was in the cooking of the Mediterranean heartland, though, that rosemary found its fullest culinary expression. In Italy, and above all in Tuscany, rosmarino is a foundation of the kitchen: the perfume of arista, the rosemary-and-garlic roast pork, of lamb and of fagioli all'uccelletto, of rosemary roast potatoes, of the rosemary focaccia of Liguria, and of castagnaccio, the chestnut cake strewn with rosemary and pine nuts. In Provence romarin is a pillar of herbes de Provence and the bouquet garni and the breath of the garrigue. In Spain romero scents the slow roasts of Castile and yields the celebrated rosemary honey of the scrub, and in Greece dendrolivano flavours roasts and the baked chickpeas of the Cyclades. The Mediterranean empires then carried rosemary to lands with climates much like its own. Spanish Franciscan missionaries planted it, with the vine and the olive, in the gardens of their Alta California missions from 1769, and in California's Mediterranean climate it flourished so completely that it became at once a ubiquitous landscaping plant and, in the late twentieth century, a signature of the new California cuisine. The Spanish crown carried it likewise to the River Plate, where romero entered the criollo kitchen of Argentina. British settlers took it to Australia, where it thrives in the Mediterranean south and flavours the national love of roasted and barbecued lamb. And in Australia and New Zealand rosemary acquired a final, poignant meaning: because the herb grows wild on the Gallipoli peninsula, where so many fell in 1915, sprigs of rosemary are worn each year on Anzac Day and Remembrance Day, the ancient emblem of memory bound at last to the memory of a war.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

Rosemary is one of the most widely used culinary herbs in the world, and the most robust of the classic European aromatics. Its tough, resinous needles withstand long, high heat that would destroy a tender herb, which has made it the definitive partner of roasted and grilled meats, above all lamb and pork, and of the slow braise, the roast potato, the bean stew, and the oven bread. It anchors the cooking of the whole northern Mediterranean, from Tuscan arista and Ligurian focaccia to Provençal grills and Castilian roasts, and it is a defining component of both herbes de Provence and the bouquet garni. Beyond its Mediterranean home it has become a fixture of the modern kitchen across the Mediterranean-climate world, indispensable in California, Australia, South Africa, Chile, and Argentina, and a standard of the supermarket herb shelf everywhere. The herb keeps its ancient double identity as food and medicine, now on a far larger scale. Rosemary extract, rich in the antioxidants carnosic and rosmarinic acid, is one of the most important natural food preservatives in the world, used industrially to keep fats and oils from turning rancid and approved as a food additive. Rosemary essential oil is a mainstay of aromatherapy and cosmetics, and modern studies of its effect on alertness and recall have lent a curious scientific echo to the herb's three-thousand-year reputation for strengthening the memory. Rosemary honey from the Spanish and Mediterranean scrub remains amongst the most prized of monofloral honeys. And rosemary has never shed its symbolism. It is still the herb of remembrance: planted in gardens of memory, laid at funerals, and, across Australia and New Zealand, worn over the heart each Anzac Day, a living sprig of the Mediterranean shrub that grows wild on the shores of Gallipoli. Few plants carry their meaning so far from home, or hold it so long.

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