Halloween, Pillowcases, and the Good Candy

Do you remember Halloween when we were kids?

We'd grab a pillowcase and head out into the neighborhood looking for the houses handing out full-size chocolate bars. No parents, no cell phones, just packs of children running around in those awful hard plastic masks we had begged our parents to buy. Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, Cinderella, Superman. The masks were held on with a piece of elastic that dug into the sides of your head, and the little holes for your eyes never seemed to line up with your actual eyes. You couldn't see, you couldn't breathe, and after about ten minutes, your face was sweating. Good times, good times.

Maybe it rained. Who cared? Hello, candy!

One year my mom dressed my toddler brother as a pumpkin. It came with some sort of inflatable gourd-beach-ball situation that went on his head and a little pot of green face paint. I have no idea what discount store that outfit came from, but his face stayed green long after my mother had scrubbed him within an inch of his life.

Not his best look. I wish I had a picture.

At the end of the night, we'd come home and dump our pillowcases on the floor so our parents could inspect the loot. There were the usual warnings about razor blades hidden in apples, although I don't remember anyone actually giving us an apple. Who would do that to a child on Halloween? Produce, sheesh!

Then came the sorting.

The good chocolate bars went first. Then the mediocre stuff, those things filled with nougat (I have strong opnions about nougat), hard candies, and whatever else you weren't particularly excited about but would eat eventually. Near the bottom was always some random packet of shitty candy corn, and finally, the Dum Dums. Those could hang around until Easter.

I cannot tell you what I ate last week, but I could probably give you a complete inventory of my Halloween haul from 1976.

Of course, years later, I became one of those parents trudging around the neighborhood in the rain, following children dressed as whatever character was popular that year. Cold, tired, wondering how many more houses we needed to visit before we could call it a night. Now I understand why our parents stayed home.

Halloween hits a little different these days. The hordes of children seem to have dwindled, and I don't see many pillowcases making the rounds. But I still love answering the door, seeing the costumes, and handing out the good candy.

And the decorations around here have gotten completely out of hand. Not just a few carved pumpkins, because apparently that would be basic. I'm talking elaborate productions that get written up in the West Seattle Blog. Giant skeletons the size of a Mack truck, elaborate light shows, entire front yards transformed into haunted attractions. Where do people store all this stuff? Seriously, where?

I'm perfectly happy carving pumpkins, mostly because I want the seeds. Roasted with plenty of salt, they're the best part. We have two human-sized skeletons that spend most of the year hanging on a hook in the basement and have, on numerous occasions, scared the crap out of me. Every single time, I forget they're there.

Add a jumble of orange twinkle lights, a few pumpkins, and that's about the extent of our Halloween decorating.

The leaves are blowing off the trees, and there's a definite chill in the air. I'm thinking about warm bread, hot soups, long braises, and vegetables roasting in the oven. This is my kind of cooking. Give me a pot of something bubbling away, a loaf of bread, and a house that smells like dinner.

We've been having fires in the backyard, too, standing around with our hands wrapped around something hot to drink.

I've also been thinking about what I want to cook and teach over the next few months at Cook's Culinary Collective.

There's a tea class in the works with a little kitchen witchery thrown in. Herbs, spices, flowers, and all sorts of unexpected ingredients. Magic elixirs, a little alchemy in a cup, and cake and other treats to go with it. Naturally.

Soups and stews are on my mind, too, along with seasonal menus, roasting, braising, and all the things I love about cooking this time of year.

I do miss those Halloween nights, though. The pillowcases, the terrible costumes, the thrill of finding a full-size chocolate bar. Even the candy corn. What even flavor is that stuff supposed to be, anyway? Certainly not corn!

Winter is coming…