This recipe is adapted from something my grandmother made for my 28th birthday. She lives in the French Pyrenees and had collected fallen chestnuts that morning while walking the dog in the forest. It was of a magic, mousse-like texture that disappeared from your mouth as you ate it, leaving behind only the delicate flavour of chestnuts, forest floor and rum.
Granny didn’t use a recipe for this cake, she just knew what to do. I suppose that’s what 70 year