Fickle Fork of Fate

The W.C.

Looks like a turd, tastes like not a turd.

Here at Forkbastard, I eschew food snobbery like a food snob whose food snobbery I eschew would eschew Pizza Rolls. On top of that, I freely admit that on a acale from Smoker With A Head Cold to Discerning Palate, I'm a five, maybe a six, tops.

All of this is to say that when I tell you that the version of a product that is difficult to buy, nontrivial to store, and a pain in the ass to work with is vastly superior to the version of a product that's easily available, you can keep in your pantry indefinitely, and can be prepped in less than a minute, I am not fucking around.

And so it is with the humble water chestnut, used primarily to add texture and vegetable bulk to Chinese and other Asian foodstuffs. I like, and still use, the typical supermarket cans of whole or sliced water chestnuts. But the fresh are a whole other beast.

And I do not use the word beast casually. First, fresh water chestnuts are not a supermarket staple. Not even at Whole Foods. Co-ops might carry them, but the only place I find them with any regularity is Asian groceries, and even then, it's hit or miss. And when you can find them, they might suck.

The first time I bought water chestnuts, from an open bin at United Noodle, I had no idea what I was looking for. And when I got home, I had a bag of nasty. When water chestnuts go bad, they go really bad - mushy, yellow, and fairly unpleasant to the nose. And telling they've gone bad from the outside isn't that easy. I go largely by texture - if the skin is too dry or wrinkly, or there's any evidence of air pockets or give in the flesh, that water chestnut, or the bag it's in, if more than two or three are like that, stays in the store. Appearance-wsie, I've found that darker and more uniform is better, but this isn't as reliable as the texture is.

Prepping fresh water chestnuts is a hassle. You'll need a small paring knife, patience, and  if you can manage it, small hands. If you have large hands, take frequent breaks. The sides are pretty easy to peel like you would a tiny apple. The tops and bottoms are tougher because the skin is tougher, and most water chestnuts are slightly concave at the top and bottom. I usually slice a thin layer of scin off the ends, then dig out whatever reamains in the middle. Once the skin is mostly off, trim off any discoloration. If it's yellow, DO NOT LET IT MELLOW. Trim it off until what remains is clean and white, then give it a quick rinse under cold water.

All this work is worth it, though. If you've never had a fresh water chestnut, you've never had a water chestnut. Not really. The fresh ones have a delicate sweetness, kind of like jicama, only better. This sweetness is destroyed by the canning process, leaving the inoffensive crunchy discs we're all so used to.

I don't like to cook fresh water chestnuts overly much, because they're so good raw. For example, last night, as part of an experimental, unphotographed, and only partially successful stab at a collection of small Asian-inspired plates, I boiled soba noodles, then tossed the hot noodles with a light soy-vinegar sauce, some raw red bell pepper, and about a dozen sliced fresh water chestnuts. The heat from the noodles warmed the water chestnuts without diminishing their natural flavor at all.

For short-term storage, I keep fresh, peeled water chestnuts in water - get a tall plastic container, put the water chestnuts in it, fill the remaining space with tap water, and keep refrigerated for a week or two. The flavor will deteriorate a bit over time, but never to the level of canned water chestnuts.