Have you seen the 2018 film “Little Forest”? It first screened earlier this year and immediately tugged at the heartstrings of Koreans everywhere. The moment roll credits came to an end, bloggers and YouTubers alike beelined to their kitchen to recreate the recipes sprinkled throughout the mouthwatering scenes; dazed viewers in a magical trance made plans to ditch their chaotic city life and set up shop in the picturesque countrysides of the peninsula. I must confess, it didn't take long for me to start whipping up bowls of hand-torn noodles, sujebi, and delve into the process of luscious rice wine, makgeolli, while pretending to live the free-spirited life of the protagonist, Song Hye-won. <br /> <br />The film is an adaptation of the Japanese two-part original of the same name directed by Jun'ichi Mori, which was drawn from the original manga series by Daisuke Igarashi. Though not a documentary, the Japanese original makes like a docudrama pouring recipe after recipe into each season for nearly four hours. It's a masterpiece and I call on those with even the slightest appreciation not just for food and farm-life but artful creations to go the extra mile to find and watch it this weekend. (I trust the tech-savvy in you to complete this mission.) After that, it's vital that we brighten the mood with the Korean reinterpretation. It's a sweet, light-hearted drama made to have just that effect. They share the same title and overall soul-searching-through-food storyline with salt of the earth heroines, however, at the core, their purpose and perspective is clearly distinct: a nod to each their own culture. <br /> <br />A recipe featured in both films that ceased to nudge me towards the kitchen was the one with the chestnuts. Maybe because it's a refreshing take on the humble nut only to make an appearance in my home as roasted, or maybe because it's autumn and their presence is limited at the market – I took to this project immediately. It's definitely not a marron glacé; it's rustic, both in flavor and preparation. At first glance, they hold a slightly labor-intensive facade; look again to see an easy, straightforward recipe. Your reward: little gems of sweetness to help pull through winter's bitter cold. I want to call it a braise or maybe even a glaze, but perhaps the more appropriate name is preserve. We can agree to disagree on the correct term; nevertheless, let's just agree on one thing: they're delicious.

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