When stepping back and assessing Halloween with the clear eyes of Lasik-powered adulthood, a number of problems appear. But it’s not what you think. The ghouls and the goblins, they’re mostly all right. The emphasis on death and offensiveness is unsurprising. While candy consumption is not a sin, in and of itself, there is something truly troubling about the accumulation of copious amounts of delicious sugary treats.
And it’s not what dentists think either that troubles me. If your teeth rot, every party store on the planet sells those plastic Dracula dentures, which, appropriately enough, ought to do the trick, delaying total gum decay. At least until Veterans Day. But no, what’s disturbing about Halloween traditions concern the lack of gastronomic diversity. The greatest sin of October 31st is its halfhearted attempt to be defined by a tiny sliver of available food.
Have you ever heard of a meal consisting solely of candy? What's a civilized person meant to do with all those wrappers? Collages, frankly, are quite passé. More trash, more garbage, more work. I can understand a banana, a melon, even an artichoke – which all require genuine effort to eat. Or genuine apathy to eat, if rinds are your way of getting the most out of your daily nourishment.
The greatest holidays are defined by food, or more accurately, by feasts. Then how come Halloween, a day devoted to eating, is relegated to snack food that fits in your pocket? If it was a night revolving around dessert – I might be tempted to look the other way. In that case, you’re talking about the capstone to any fancy night out. Plus, with dessert, you have cakes, pastries, and most anything that’s bakeable.
What would we think of Thanksgiving if the whole day amounted to sharing a packet of turkey jerky with famished family members? I can tell you. We wouldn’t think much of it. That’s Halloween.
Right here and now, I’m calling for Halloween to expand its narrow scope. A treat is hardly defined as a sweet. Why can't a treat be savory? Imagine the look on a young child’s face (that's if you can see it through the poorly-ventilated rubber mask) upon getting a meticulously foil-wrapped BLT, to join their plastic pumpkin overflowing with Twix and Snickers bars. Candy corn doesn’t come on the cob and only a madman would try and smoke a candy cigar.
When the little ones arrive home, they'd be treated to a tasting menu – a huge ten course meal with minimal parental prep. Anyone participating in the holiday’s natural evolution, is open to handing out napkins, silverware, zucchini flowers. Anything goes now. Trick, or treat yourself to the whole menu.
And for those who want to cancel Halloween this year, who simply can't be bothered. I’ll say only this - we’re already wearing masks.
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