The first night that BB & I were in Rome for our honeymoon, the temperature plummeted. And as we strolled through the city wearing just about every article of clothing we'd packed, we bought a paper cone of roasted chestnuts to keep our hands warmed. There's something about the smell of roasting chestnuts that makes me immediately feel festive. Maybe I equate it with holiday trips to New York as a child.
Maybe Rome wasn't actually more convivial for those four days, but it certainly felt that way. I think I'm going to try roasting chestnuts in the oven this week, to try to recapture some of that.