Chowhound is a weekly column about what’s trending in Detroit food culture. Tips: [email protected].
More than just Mexican Halloween: At risk of ruffling some religious feathers, this Christian does find cause for commemorating the otherworldly at this time of year. No, I don’t go dark masquerading as anything monstrously opposed to my faith, and, yes, I can bristle over costumes that grate against my sensibilities. The fun many find innocent enough in turning themselves into naughty little angels and devils for a night is something others may stand dead-set against. Could some conscientious objectors be overreacting to this Halloween thing, at least a little? Let me confess that I certainly have. An actual son-of-a-nun myself (long story), I once drunkenly judged a coed costumed as a pregnant, Catholic sister at a Ferris State frat party. After leading in sarcastically by telling her how much she reminded me of my mother, I segued to a totally inebriated screed that ended with me suggesting she name the pillow stuffed under her robes after me. Two Sig Eps ushered me out of their house right afterward.
These days, I’m far less affected by the get-ups people choose to go out in and way more sober while making judgment calls. As for Halloween itself, I’ve come to appreciate it in the same spirit Mexican culture celebrates Día de los Muertos on the heels of the gringo holiday (traditionally, Nov. 1 and 2). With ritual generally agreed to be rooted in Medieval European observances, the Spanish likely imported in part (All Saints’/Souls’ Day and the “Danse macabre”), themes of happily remembered loved ones, and a humoring acceptance of life’s ephemeral nature are reflected across the Mexican diaspora via the Día de los Muertos tradition.
Food’s part of the affair. Tokens of departed family members’ favorites are staged at ofrendas; intimate altars set for the occasion in family homes or at actual gravesites. Pan de muerto (Challah and Brioche-like sweet breads with skeletal shapes and scorings baked-in) are laid alongside Mexico-indigenous Marigold florals, whose petals purportedly have the power to pave paths between this world and the next. Scented of orange and anise classically, those breads are out of this world for sure. Metro Detroit bakeries like Mexican Town (4300 Vernor Hwy.), Sheila’s (2142 Springwells St.), and La Gloria (3345 Bagley St.), among others, can treat you to some this season. Here’s a suggestion: grab at least one good loaf to make French Toast from at home. Whisk a few drops of vanilla and/or almond extract into your eggs and cinnamon to further layer flavor into the bread slices. It’s death by dulce and delicious. Want to turn things adult-brunchy-festive? Make almendrado Mimosas to go with. A tequila-based almond liqueur, almendrado is great mixed with O.J. (think a punchier Amaretto Sour, with or without a spritz of sparkling wine or water). My best blend is almendrado, pineapple juice, and fresh lime. Que rico!
Aside from trappings to sate a sweet tooth, Día de los Muertos ceremonials offer a breath of fright-free air in contemplating an afterlife no mortal has ever verifiably visited, returned from, and reported back on with authority. Instead of haunting, what-if suspicions and fearful uncertainties, the “muertos” mythos is more about embracing a belief that life goes on from both sides of what separates the living from their dear departed, and the notion that it’s a veil thin enough to look through with a certain sense of serenity, back and forth. It’s far from those hellish, say, The Conjuring plotlines, yet pretty much exactly like Pixar/Disney’s Coco. The Los Angeles Times’ Robert Abele — one film critic among a consensus many who lauded its storytelling — went so far as to say: “If an animated movie is going to offer children a way to process death, it’s hard to imagine a more spirited, touching and breezily entertaining example than Coco.” Consider that quote when picking a kid-friendly Halloween flick to watch. Abele’s compliments spoke to the script’s close adherence to its Mexican lore subject matter much as any other production values. Perchance you’ve yet to see Coco or simply haven’t in a while, maybe you should sometime in the next two weeks or so, if only for contrast and comparison’s sake before binge-watching all 13 installments (ooh, how creepy is that number?) of the Michael Myers’ Halloween saga. Blech. Gag me with a goalie mask.
Make no mistake. The devil’s for real. That’s my belief. Even so, I don’t believe being out and about one late-October night a year playing monster or villain makes someone more vulnerable to the diabolical or invites in its deceptions and temptations. I’ve lived 61 Halloween nights as of this year, and some 22,000-plus days besides. Doing the math, all my October 31st’s combined amount to mere .0003% of the time I’ve had on this Earth thus far to earn myself a hotseat in the hereafter. Truth be told, between the Halloweens I’ve spent as an innocent, trick-or-treating kid or a dad taking my own children out to revel in that same, sweet tradition, this last calendar day in October has done me as much good as any Christmastime cheer ever could. There is no day of the year that can make us better or worse simply through its coming or going. As always, with everything, it’s what we choose to make of ourselves at any given moment. What we hold dear or let slide. Those most important things we sometimes fail to remember and others impossible to forget, which reminds me:
For my first 45 years, I gave birthday cards to someone who celebrated coming into this world on Halloween night; filling them with half-a-lifetime of X’s and O’s. During my boyhood, I simply snuck envelopes onto her bed on mornings after “Devil’s Night” here in Detroit. After leaving home at 20, I mailed most of the rest of them long-distance to reach her. In the fall of 2007, her death separated us further.
These days, Halloween reminds me most tenderly of my mother. Miss you, Mom. Hugs and kisses. I’ll be home soon.
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