Memories of Kurikinton: The Chestnut Sweets of Autumn

    Weeks before the first cold wind swept through and the leaves began to change in Miyagi, I felt a familiar urge.

    The autumns of my youth had very little value as they were just that short time after the boiling summer and before the seemingly random drop between a comfortable warmth and sudden onsets of winter weather that never lasted long. Our leaves did not change gradually. A sudden freeze would roll in sometime around the end of October and render all of the green brown.

    My first real experiences with autumn came after my move to Japan and were enjoyed far south of where I live now. A small town in Gifu prefecture was the first Japanese place I called home and it had lots of local charm with wonderful views of nature. The town itself wasn't known for much but one thing they did very well was a chestnut sweet called kurikinton.

    I fell in love with the little treats right away, with the creamy but still nutty insides and their distinct chestnut flavor without the overpowering sugar of almost any American snack . Soon I found myself nibbling the freshly made sweets at least once a week at the gift counter at the main big box grocery store in town. At the tune of 200 yen per treat, they were a tiny indulgence and a great way to experience my first real autumn.

    I've mentioned how much I miss kurikinton to a few of my students and friends in this prefecture, but this doesn't usually go anywhere good. Once, I received commercially produced bags of mushed chestnuts, ready for me to make them into something else, but that was absolutely not something I was ready to do. Sadly, I'm just not so desperate for kurikinton that I'm willing to try to make it myself especially when I am still living in the country of its origin.

    I did find the treat on the shelves of the fancy snack shops under one of the department stores in Sendai some time ago, but I am not risking my life for the treat right now. They are delicious, but not good enough to make up for the risk of hospitalization or potentially infecting my kid who isn't able to get the vaccine yet.

    One of the few algorithm-based ads to show up on my feed and actually entice me for half a second was for this treat. I knew I wouldn't be able to condone the purchase of a whole set of these, but it doesn't mean I didn't want some.

Those things on the left? That's them!

    About a week later, one of my students actually gifted me a selection of sweets that included the lovely little chestnut sweets. Unfortunately I had to wait about a week to try to eat it with my family, at which point they weren't as delicious as I had hoped or remembered. So the one time I finally get the treat I want, I delayed too long and it was no longer delicious. Or perhaps that's also the curse of nostalgia. As much as I enjoyed these when they were my first taste of real autumn, nothing can really stand up to the surprise and joy of the memory.