One of my most enduring childhood memories of Thanksgiving is of peeling roasted chestnuts for my mom's stuffing. If you're familiar with proper chestnut-peeling technique—quickly, while the chestnuts are still warm—you know that pain, frustration, and raw fingertips are part of the deal. (I said enduring, not pleasant.) My siblings and I had no choice in the matter, but in retrospect, I'm surprised my mom didn't recruit us to do more in the kitchen. Isn't that what kids are for, anyway?