I once went to Greenfield Village (a living history outdoor museum which is a part of the Henry Ford Museum) over Christmas. Everything was delightfully cozy and festive in a vintage sort of way, and when we got into the town square it was set up like a small Christmas market with different stalls selling different things. Me and my family walked past a stall that was roasting chestnuts on an open fire, just like in the Christmas carol, and it smelled amazing, like legit one of the best smells I've ever come across. We went up to buy a bag, and the vendor girl insisted we try some before we actually bought one because we'd never had them before and it's "an acquired taste." We did, and it was genuinely one of the saddest, blandest things I've ever had the misfortune of eating, with this weird mealy texture. Incredibly gross, and incredibly disappointing to tweenage me who had been fantasizing about trying those things since I was a little kid. The song lied. It lied to us all.