Every glass of Albariño holds the same contradiction as Galicia itself: bright, deep, and impossibly alive.
In Galicia, autumn doesn’t whisper; it crackles. The hills glow orange, the air smells of woodsmoke, and everyone seems to be holding a handful of chestnuts. This is Magosto, the fire festival that turns a quiet corner of Spain into a joyful chaos of flame, laughter, and food.
What is Magosto?
A Magosto (mah-GO-stoh) is Galicia’s centuries-old autumn ritual: part harvest feast, part pagan bonfire, part excuse to stay up too late. Every November, Galicians gather around open fires to roast chestnuts (castañas), drink young wine or cider, and celebrate the turning of the season. It’s loud, warm, and gloriously smoky, a living link between ancient Celtic traditions and today’s community spirit.
The origins trace back to the Celtic Samaín, when fire was used to honor ancestors and mark the end of harvest. Later, the Romans introduced chestnut trees, and Christian monks adopted the ritual as part of All Saints’ Day, blending pagan gratitude with remembrance of the dead. Centuries later, the formula hasn’t changed: light the fire, roast the chestnuts, share everything.
Firelight and Folklore
A Magosto starts with a small fire. Then someone adds more wood. Then someone else brings a guitar. Within an hour, there’s smoke curling up from plazas and backyards across Galicia, from the cathedral steps in Tui to the village greens in O Rosal, people laughing, eating with their fingers, wine sloshing from cup to cup.
Chestnuts roast in old wire drums, popped open with pocketknives and fingers, never utensils. The smell is intoxicating – sweet, earthy, and slightly wild. It’s the kind of scent that clings to your clothes and your memory for days. Kids run circles around the fire, faces streaked with soot “for luck.” The older generation leans in closer, telling stories that somehow grow more elaborate with every bottle opened.
The Chestnut: Galicia’s First Currency
Before corn or potatoes, Galicia’s economy ran on chestnuts. They were ground into flour, stored in cellars, and traded across the region. Monks planted castiñeiros as a form of insurance: each tree could feed families for decades. Even today, the ancient groves of El Agustín feel almost sacred, their roots tangled in both myth and memory.
A roasted chestnut isn’t just food here; it’s a symbol of endurance. Its shell blackens, cracks, and gives way to something soft, sweet, and sustaining (a perfect metaphor for the Galician spirit).
The Modern Magosto
Despite its ancient roots, Magosto never feels nostalgic. It’s gloriously uncurated. There are no tickets, no sponsors, just neighbors showing up with firewood, wine, and enough stories to last till dawn. Someone inevitably tries to roast chorizo over the coals (a terrible and wonderful idea), and someone else breaks into a muiñeira dance under the smoke.
In Ourense, parks fill with thousands for the largest Magosto in Galicia. In Parada de Sil, bonfires glow between terraced vineyards overlooking the Sil canyon. And in smaller towns like Baiona or Tui, it’s the intimacy that lingers…a circle of neighbors, a pan full of chestnuts, and the feeling that the world outside can wait another night. At El Agustín, it’s our terrace fire that keeps the tradition alive. Chestnuts roast over open flame, drizzled with honey and sea salt, paired with ceremony and conversation. Guests linger long after the embers fade, cheeks warm from the fire and from laughing too much. Experience it once and you’ll quickly find it’s about the literal and human fire that keeps Galicia glowing through the cold.
A Few Insider Tips
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The best chestnuts are heavy, glossy, and slightly sweet.
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Try them roasted, boiled, or puréed with cream and cinnamon (crema de castaña).
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Visit Magosto de Ourense (early November) for the largest party, or Parada de Sil for the most traditional one.
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In smaller towns like Baiona and Tui, follow the smoke; it’ll lead you to laughter.
Because for Galicians, chestnuts aren’t just food. They’re memory, fuel, and conversation. They remind us that some of life’s best moments come with a bit of heat and a crowd that doesn’t know when to go home.
