Re visiting Halloween 2013

 Caro from Elsewhere.

Today I am elsewhere and reposting and old blog from 2013 as today is Halloween. 2013 is a world where Robin Williams is still with us, and the political landscape was, maybe more benign than it is today. Or that night be a false memory.

Here it is with some of this year's Spanish pics on the end

Trick or Treat?

 

                                                

 

It’s a well known phenomenon that if America sneezes Britain catches cold. Some things that have infected us from the other side of the water are very welcome; Brad Pitt, ‘Castle’ and Robin Williams. Some not so welcome; spray on cheese, lack of the correct number of vowels in words, MacDonalds.  And the phrase ‘Trick or treat.’

It’s guising!

 

                                                          Why is this cat so grumpy?

 

After wandering round a supermarket being bombarded with pumpkins, apples, peanuts all blazing with a  ‘trick or treat’ logo, I felt very nostalgic for dressing up in a sheet, making two holes for the eyes and scaring people.                                   

As a youngster we would dress up in something we had made – not bought. We liked to think we were unrecognizable.  We would go round the doors of neighbours ( with a 'u') and ‘do a turn.’ -  sing a song, tell a joke, do a dance. Wickedpedia says “In Scotland, youths went house-to-house on 31 October with masked, painted or blackened faces, often threatening to do mischief if they were not welcomed.”

This is sounding more like it!

 

                                    

 

There were some strange goings on. Treacle scones ( to rhyme with gone !)  would be dangled from the ceiling on a rope and then covered in lashings of dripping sticky treacle. Some poor sod would then have their hands tied behind their back and then attempt to eat the aforesaid scone, now swinging happily on its rope. And happily smacking them in the face.  If it didn’t- if it  hung still enough to let the poor sod have a nibble, a ‘friend’ would give it a good shove…right in the face of the nibbler, rendering them a treacle face and therefore unrecognisable.

                                        

                                              These are sophisticates, using a newspaper as a bib. 

 

Small children would have to kneel on a chair, backwards (hope you are following this). Under them was a basin of water full with bobbing apples. The child would hold a fork in their teeth and drop it, trying to spear an apple. This is precision forking.

                                      

 I believe that bobbing is world wide but we call it 'dookin'.  Kneel down and stick their head in the basin, trapping apple between teeth and basin bottom… dead easy you say. So far so good, they get an apple and might even get the treacle washed off their face.

Not so easy to do while your pals are resting one foot on the back of your head.

                                           

I don’t recall ever having a pumpkin. We used to hollow out a turnip… and use the middle for soup. If skint we’d use a big potato. We carried the turnips and their enclosed candle through the streets keeping the ghosts away…. As the candle cast fearful shadows through the holes in the turnip, the scariest thing was the turnip itself. I wonder if there is a word for turnip phobia.

Wickedpedia says….blah blah by turnips or mangel wurzels, hollowed out to act as lanterns and often carved with grotesque faces to represent spirits or goblins". These were common in parts of Ireland and the Scottish Highlands in 19th century, known as jack – o’- lanterns.

It also says "particularly appropriate to a night upon which supernatural beings were said to be abroad and could be imitated or warded off by human wanderers". As early as the 18th century, "imitating malignant spirits" led to playing pranks in the Scottish Highlands. Halloween lanterns didn’t spread to England until the 20th century, maybe due to a lack of turnips.

The term Halloween comes of course from the Scots term for All Hallows' Eve, i.e. the evening before All Hallow’s Day. Although the phrase "All Hallows'" is Old English for the mass day of all saints.  Wickedpedia again; ‘It initiates the tridiuum  Hallowmas the time in the  liturgical  year dedicated to remembering the dead, including saints (hallows), martyrs and all the faithful departed believers.”

Or in Glasgow, just dress up in case the ghouls get you.

Wickedpedia goes on to say that it is a Christian festival influenced by the Celtic harvest festivals and their pagan roots. Pagans would mark the end of the harvest season and beginning of the 'darker half' of the year. Spirits could more easily come into our world and were particularly active. They had to ensure that the people and their livestock survived the winter. Offerings of food and drink, or portions of the crops, were left for the souls of the dead who were also said to revisit their homes. Places were set at the dinner table or by the fire to welcome them.

It made sense, looking into a long dark winter, the good spirits had to be with you to survive. The nuts, the fruit, the fire, all that they needed to see them through and if the odd dead relative popped in that night for a wee dook of an apple,   even better.

The lighting of bonfires by the ancient Celts was a tradition carried on into Halloween to frighten away witches but we now do that on 5^th November to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night.

I didn’t know the connection between Halloween and the Danse Macabre in continental Europe, France in particular. The danse is the dead of the churchyards rising for one wild, hideous carnival at Hallowe'en.

                                  

                                  

                                                  Bernt Notke: Surmatants (Totentanz) in St. Nicholas' Church, Tallinn.

 

Then I read this;-

 “North American almanacs of the late 18th and early 19th century give no indication that Halloween was celebrated there. The Puritans of New England, for example, maintained strong opposition to Halloween, and it was not until the mass Irish and Scottish immigration during the 19th century that it was brought to North America in earnest. Confined to the immigrant communities during the mid-19th century, it was gradually assimilated into mainstream society and by the first decade of the 20th century it was being celebrated coast to coast by people of all social, racial and religious backgrounds.”

 

Sounds like a Halloween hoolie to me!

 

Hope you had a good one and the ghouls didn't get you.

And here's some pics, 2025, Spanish style.....

Have a good one!

Cheerie

Caro

Happiness is under 30 minutes: Scones

Karen Odden - every other Thursday 

When I was growing up, my mother did not like to cook. It was a different era; more food came out of cans (anyone remember La Choy Chow Mein, with the dry noodles in the separate can on top?); and the term “farm to table” did not exist, at least not in the Rochester suburb where I grew up. 

As an adult, I learned to cook for my kids – workmanlike, weekday meals such as chicken parmesan, stir-fry, and risotto – with recipes, and with guidance from my husband, who grew up in a family that Cooked with a capital C. (That capital C should be in a font twice that size, italicized, and in bold. Just saying.) Thanksgiving was a three-day cooking extravaganza complete with hand-torn loaves of stale bread for stuffing and an enormous turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, succotash, homemade cranberry relish (two kinds), and five kinds of pie. His mother filled an entire wall with pots and pans, each particular to a use, on a cork-board along the staircase down to the basement, in addition to the cookware in the kitchen cupboards. My husband still does all the holiday cooking – it’s he who makes French onion soup from scratch and the Beef Wellington in phyllo dough for Thanksgiving every year. (Guests welcome!) 

But my special, small niche in the kitchen is baking. I have a killer triple-decker carrot cake recipe, with lemon cream cheese frosting, that people sometimes ask for, very specifically, when I say, “What can I bring?” to a dinner party. (As in, it may be why I’m invited.) I have a popular lemon tart, with the zing of lemon zest and a shortbread crust. And I make Craisin and white-chocolate scones, light and moist and perfect for breakfast or dessert, that have never failed to please. Bookstore owner and mystery maven Barbara Peters now calls them "the official Poisoned Pen scones," after I repeatedly brought them to my book launches. 

(For those who don't know, the Pen is an indie bookstore in Old Town Scottsdale that specializes in mystery and holds many author events both in person and virtually, so anyone can watch. November guests include Charles Finch, Tasha Alexander, Janet Evanovich, T. Jefferson Parker, and Julia Spencer-Fleming. https://poisonedpen.com/. )

Baking is like writing, somewhat. 

You gather an array of ingredients (characters), and you combine them in a particular order, give or take (meet, fall in love, become enemies). Blend the wet first, then add the dry. Knead, but don’t work the dough too much. Add spices, flavoring to taste (strew clues throughout). It requires perfect attention to the rules with some things (have an inciting incident, spellcheck) but leeway with others (the crime can happen earlier or later). For example, I am scrupulous about my flour measurements (spoon it into the measuring cup; never, ever just dip the cup measure into the flour, or you will use too much) but I always put in more white chocolate chips than the recipe calls for because I like them a bit sweet and the dough has very little sugar. I rough chop the Craisins, which the original recipe doesn’t call for, because then you get that bit of tartness in every bite. (Note -- when I was in Scotland, I discovered there is a Major Controversy about scone shape. They like them in clumpy rounds; mine are pie shaped. They might not even count as scones in the UK. Furthermore, I have also been instructed on the pronunciation of the word: my friend Wendy H. Jones, in Scotland, pronounces it more like "scawns" than "scones.") 

 

After writing all day, I long to work with my hands, engage my senses of taste and smell, and spend time without a screen. So baking is a pleasure. 

For anyone who wants it, this is the scone recipe, adapted from one that friends Evan and Tami gave me, as I’ve amended over the years. They're easy and sure to please.

Happiness is under 30 minutes.  

Ingredients:

1 ¾ c flour, plus some for dusting the surface when kneading 

¼ c sugar 

2 ½ tsp baking powder 

½ tsp salt 

5 Tbsp unsalted butter, chilled and cut into pieces 

1 large egg, beaten 

1 tsp vanilla 

6 Tbsp half-and-half 

¾ c Craisins (chopped/halved) 

¾ c white chocolate chips (I use Nestle; some other brands are larger and don’t combine as well unless you halve them) 

Instructions: 

Mix the first five ingredients together by hand or mixer until they are fully blended into crumbs. Then add the rest, blending until just incorporated. Turn the mixture onto a floured surface and knead for two minutes, adding flour in as needed until it isn’t sticky. Cut the dough and form into two rounds. Cut the rounds along the diameter 4 times (think spokes on a bicycle wheel) to make 8 pieces each; they will be pie shaped. Bake on a flat pan, lined with parchment paper, in a 400-degree oven (or 375 convection), 7-8 minutes. (Every oven is different, and these are like pine nuts, you have to catch them at the right minute.) 

Do not let them brown (they turn sort of taupe), or they will taste burnt. They will puff up a bit and should be lightly golden along the edges. Remove from the pan and cool on a rack.

Halloween in Greenwich Village

Annamaria on Monday

It will be here before the week is out.  The residents are ready!  Here is the evidence I saw this morning on my way to the bank.

 

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One of the photos has an identifiable living creature in it.  Were you able to spot it?                                 

A cafe on my my clock wishes you a Happy Halloween! 

   AND SO DO I!

I Need Rescue From the Evil Eye

 

Jeff—Saturday

 

It’s been a very hectic couple of weeks, starting the day after my wonderful honor by the Greek National Tourism Organization at the Ilias Lalaounis Jewelry Museum in Athens where I basked in the praise of 200 wonderful souls.  My mistake was in not spitting on a single one of them. 

Yes, I wrote "spitting"--a key element of defense against envious thoughts or glances cast by those who seek to target another with curses.  I'll get into that deeply held superstition more below, but I won't bore or titillate you with the I'd-sooner-rather-forget details of my recent experience.  Let's just say it's been an adventure that's led many of my Greek friends to diagnose me as clearly matiasmenos -- afflicted with the evil eye.

And they should know, for I know of no people more superstitious than the Greeks.  

 

All of which reminded me of a couple decades ago  post I'd put up on the significant impact of such practices on the truly superstitious.  And not just in Greece, for many Greek superstitions are shared in different forms among other world cultures.

 

For example, take spitting. Though I don’t consider myself superstitious, permit me a moment to say ftou, ftou, ftou, representing the Greek superstition of spitting three times to chase the devil and misfortune away whenever you talk about bad things.  Such as a generator failing, tripping on a broken pavement slate, and pesky illnesses.

 

So, on to some of the basic Greek superstitions, for which I wish to credit the assistance of two websites, The Embassy of Greece and Susie Atsaides.

 

Without question, the biggie is the Evil Eye (aka Mati).  In fact, many other Greek superstitions are designed to deal with risks presented by the Evil Eye.  It can strike at any time, and is taken very seriously.  Educated, level-headed people believe in it, as does the Greek Orthodox Church (calling it Vaskania), and those with the “gift” for casting it away from those put upon by the Evil Eye are revered.

 

The process of casting away involves techniques passed down in secret from generation to generation and involves prayers coupled with a lot of yawning by healer and victim.  In these modern days, I’ve seen healers perform the process over cell phones, or respond without any sort of contact with the victim beyond an SMS or email plea for help.   

In a nutshell, the Evil Eye can be put on you, your children, your livestock or your fruit trees by anyone who looks at them with envy and praises them.  Envy is the big villain in this.

 

The number one defense against the Evil Eye is the little blue eyes or mati sold virtually everywhere in Greece.  Greeks drape them around their necks, wrists, rearview mirrors and in myriads of places in their offices and homes. It is the universal protector. All of which is attributed to the color blue that is said to reflect away evil.  I guess that means the eyes now offered for sale in other, “more fashionable” colors leave you open to being much more than just a fashion victim.

 

Some Greeks go so far as to say to be aware of blue-eyed people offering compliments, for that could be particularly dangerous.  I wonder if that would deter a Greek from the flattery of a Paul Newman look-alike or the baby blues of a modern day Grace Kelly?  Some how I think they’d simply opt for an extra mati or two and take the risk.:)

 

Garlic also works to ward off the Evil Eye.  Some carry a clove with them at all times, in their pocket or—as I’ve seen suggested—in their bra.  Garlic, along with onions, is also said to have great healing power if you’re feeling ill—perhaps over losing your shot at Paul and/or Grace to a whiff of your garlic stash.

 

If you want the evil eye protective quality of the garlic, without the scent, when someone gives you a compliment, mutter skorda (garlic) under your breath and spit on yourself three times. If you want real protection ask the person who gave you the compliment to spit on you too, though that may lead to an immediate reassessment of the person’s original opinion.  A word of caution: some say if a compliment is given to a child in your presence you should spit on the child. Under any circumstances I suggest asking the parents before attempting that kindness, but these days, fugedaboudit.

 

Another common practice for warding off the Evil Eye is a thorny-spiked cactus close to the front entrance to your home.  Be particularly careful if one is nearby should you choose to spit on someone else’s kid.

 

Some superstitions offer a conundrum. Bat bones are considered very lucky, but killing a bat (to presumably get the bones) is said to be very bad luck.  [I wonder who’d consider bat bones good luck these days.]

Crows, on the other hand are just bad luck period, as omens of bad news, misfortune, and death.  Guess Poe got it right.:)

 

If a Greek ever asks you for a knife, never hand it directly Put it on the table and let the other pick it up. Otherwise, superstition holds you two will soon be in a fight.

 

Another sure fight starter is if two people say the same thing at the same time.  Such as “I love  A STUDY IN SECRETS coming February 3, 2026)."  The only way to avoid an imminent fight is for each to instantly touch whatever red they can find around them (like on the cover of Under a Veiled Moon, The Red Red Snow, or The Satapur Moonstone) and say piase kokkino (touch red).

 

And never leave your shoes soles up; it’s very bad luck and even an omen of death.  But don’t fear if it should happen to you some day. Just say skorda (remember, it means garlic) and spit three times for good measure and you’ll be fine.

 

I understand the skorda whisper technique also works to ward off the bad omen of seeing a priest and black cat on the same day.  Some say it whenever they see just the priest.

 

If you sneeze, that means someone is talking about you and there is a way to figure out whom that is.  Frankly, all I’m interested in knowing at such moments is who has a tissue or Claritin.

 

Greeks also believe money attracts money, so superstition requires you to never completely empty a purse, pocket, wallet or bank account.  I suspect that one’s being sorely tested these days.

 

But the superstition that I find most telling about the Greek attitude toward life is how they treat Friday the 13^th.  Why ruin an otherwise perfectly good weekend with worries about a Friday of bad luck?  So, they stick in the middle of the workweek. To Greeks, Tuesday the 13^th is the bad luck day…possibly settling on a Tuesday for much for the same reason the US uses it as its election day—to keep the bad news away from spoiling a weekend.

 

Which brings me to the final superstition I want to talk about today.  Salt.  Greeks sprinkle salt in a new house to chase away any lurking evil.  But that’s not the use of salt I find most intriguing.  It is believed that you can get rid of “unwanted human presence” by sprinkling salt behind them.  I think Americans should bear up arms of salt to cast behind a lot of politicians these days.

 

That’s all folks.  Time for me to seek out a healer. Ftou, ftou, ftou. 

 

––Jeff