It’s that time of year. For many, it’s a time to dress up in Ghoulish costumes, knock on doors for candy and generally have a good time trying to scare the living daylights out of each other. For others (probably just me?) it’s a time to hide.
I really dislike the modern version of Hallowe’en (yes, I put an apostrophe in, read on to find out why), and if I was to use this blog to describe how I feel about it in detail, you’d have more negative adjectives than you would know what to do with. I’m not going to rant. I’m going to do something far, far more insidious. I’m going to touch briefly on the background behind the < insert negative adjectives> modern celebration of 31st October and then I’m going to try to tempt you back to tradition with a true anecdote and a yummy recipe.
***
The origins of Hallowe’en can be traced back to the Celtic Festival of Samhain (pronounced Sow-en). The Pre-Christian Celtic year was determined by the growing seasons and so their celebrations were based around milestones connected to them. Samhain marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter. The festival symbolised the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead – the Celts could see that the natural world appeared to almost “die” during Winter, and then be reborn in Spring, so it made sense that they would celebrate at this time. Samhain is still celebrated. By me as a Wiccan/Witch, amongst others – many Pagan faiths honour their dead and mark the changing seasons on 31st October. If you want to see a real witch on Hallowe’en, you’ll need to be away from the dressing up – they’re usually the ones in sweaters and jeans…
After the Romans invaded and conquered many of the Celtic lands, they seem to have assimilated some of their own faith into the Celtic traditions. Apple Bobbing might be their influence. When an apple is sliced in half, the seeds form a pentagram-like shape, and it is thought that the manifestation of such a symbol meant that the apple could be used to determine marriages during this time of year. Some say that it may relate to the goddess Pomona, protectress of apple trees – but the apple is sacred to Venus too, who is the goddess of love. Originally apple-bobbing was undertaken by young unmarried people who try to bite into an apple floating in water or hanging from a string; the first person to bite into the apple would be the next one to marry. Finding out the next to marry is a common tradition on Samhain – see below!
After the Romans, the new faith of Christianity spread, and with it came other traditions. Amongst these was “All Hallows’ Day”, also known as “All Saints Day”, a day to remember those who had died for their beliefs. This celebration was originally held on 13th May. However, Pope Gregory had the date of the All Hallows’ feast moved to 1st November sometime during the 8th century. It is thought that in doing so, he was attempting to replace or assimilate the Celtic Samhain festival of the dead with a related but church-approved celebration.
The night or evening of Samhain therefore became known as All-Hallows-Even, then Hallow Eve, still later Hallowe’en and then of course Halloween. I believe the apostrophe was dropped for two reasons. One of these being simple laziness and the second marketing – apostrophes really mess up your fonts when you’re trying to lay out a poster, don’t you know? I insist on keeping the apostrophe if I really must call 31st October Hallowe’en, and now you know why. If I have to make reference to a Christian tradition, I’m going to get it right, and I’m going to separate it from the modern commercial event. For a lot of faiths, though, the 31st October is a special time of the year when many believe that the spirit world can make contact with the physical world. Many also believe it’s when magick (not conjuror’s tricks) is at its most efficacious and there are numerous traditions that allege they can show you your future if you follow them on Hallowe’en, as I’ve touched on. Another one of these, is consuming Mash O’ Nine.
***
Mash O’ Nine is a traditional British Samhain / Hallowe’en dish, although these days not many folks have heard of it. Like many Samhain traditions, this dish is served with a purpose … it’s another “who is the next to marry” ritual, and root vegetables are plentiful at this time of year, too. For the record, Mash O’ Nine is edible. It’s a comfort food, a great accompaniment to sausages; but you can eat it on its own, it is really that tasty. It has nine different ingredients in it – hence the name.
It’s usually eaten by the unmarried on 31st October. It is not only delicious, but it can also determine who will be next to marry … yes, it really can!
Tradition has it that each unmarried person at a Samhain gathering helps themselves to a portion of the Mash, which is served in a big bowl. Before anyone eats any, though, a ring is put into the mash by the person preparing it (or someone who’s already married). The guest that gets the ring in their portion is supposed to be the next one to marry.
One Samhain, fed up with the commercial version of it and wanting to right this wrong, I invited my boyfriend’s daughter to bring all her friends to our house and I’d show them what a real 31st October used to be like. I put on Apple Bobbing, made Treacle Toffee and Toffee Apples and told some ghost stories (I have more than probably anyone you’ll meet – and those are the ones that are personal – don’t get me started on traditional ones!) Then, for fun, I made Mash O’ Nine. There was a good crowd and they were all up for the mash, but very dubious about there being any truth in this tradition, as was I. However, we all tucked in. It was after a few spoonfuls that I noticed my boyfriend had the ring. He said he just knew he’d get it, and gave me a “you set me up!” look. Actually, I didn’t. I did the whole thing properly, and he got it fair and square. The scary bit about this is, despite the sizeable crowd who all got the chance to find the ring in their portion – my boyfriend was the next to marry. Almost six years later he’s still my husband…
Obviously, if you decide to try the mash, make sure you’re careful about the ring, it’s possible to choke on it and if I don’t give you a warning, some lawyer somewhere will want to sue me, I’m sure. Here’s the recipe, I’m afraid the measurements are old UK (I hate metric), but I’m sure you can convert because you’re not as lazy as I am.
Ingredients
2 lbs potatoes, peeled and diced
2 carrots, peeled and diced
1 small turnip, peeled and diced
1 large parsnip, peeled and diced
2 leeks, cleaned and chopped into thin slices, including some of the green tops
6 ounces mature farmhouse cheddar cheese, grated
salt
freshly grated black pepper
2 tablespoons single cream
Directions
- Pre-heat oven to 350ºF/180ºC, Gas Mark 4.
- Boil the potatoes, carrots, turnip and parsnip together until soft. Mash them thoroughly and then season with salt and pepper to taste.
- Poach the leeks in a little water for about 5 minutes, until they are slightly soft.
- Add the poached leeks to the potato, carrot, turnip and parsnips, and mix in the cream.
- Season well to taste, and then stir in the grated cheese, reserving some for the top. At this point you can insert the ring, as long as it is not plastic.
- Scatter the reserved cheese on top and bake until golden-brown, about 30 to 45 minutes.
Whatever you do for 31st October, have fun. I’ll be hiding somewhere in New York city. Should be easy enough to go unnoticed on Hallowe’en there, right?
And here are the tracks you heard tonight. The theme was “dark”.
Miki Parkinson – Dark Rain
Saul Stokes – Night Painting
Altus – Midnight
Psicodreamics – Song of the Living Night
Conni St. Pierre – Queen Of the Night Star
Labrathisattva – Soft Steps in Darkness
Darren Rogers – The Darkling Shadow
Softspace – Quiet Nights
Forrest Fang – Night Flow
Altocumulus – Night Fears
Janneh – Dark Matter
East Island – Passion in False Night
Palancar – Yuri’s Night Part 1
Tom Fahy – First Night
Syndromeda – Nightwalks
And here’s my poem. After all that serious stuff, here’s something truly scary – that may make you smile, too.
“The Only Things Certain”
by Gypsy Witch (D Smethurst)
Look – it’s a witch!
This time of year the world turns cold,
And nights draw in and threaten snow,
We try so hard, but can’t avoid
Thinking of things that scare us so.
I’ve felt the presence of the Dead,
When climbing cold and draughty stair.
I’ve shivered and my blood’s run cold
As phantom fingers comb my hair.
I’ve sat around the fire at night
Told creepy stories, made it worse,
Recited myths by candlelight,
Spoke dread – immortalized in verse.
Vampires that sit in forest trees,
And through those trees, werewolves that run,
These tales abound, I wonder still,
If maybe there’s some truth in some.
A witch in Fancy Dress…
But of one beast, there is no doubt,
That he has substance, shape and form,
Worse still, he threatens everyone,
He owns them from the day they’re born.
You think he’s Death? Oh no, dear friends!
For Death can help us reach a goal.
Bring sleep when we are worn and tired,
And peace to body, mind and soul.
But in his soul, if soul at all
There is no warmth of human kind,
No heart abides within his breast,
He’s cruel, sadistic, heartless, blind.
Of all, it’s he that scares me most;
I know the rest may not be there.
Imaginings when overwrought?
Or maybe I’m easy to scare.
Look – it’s a witch!
But him? Oh, he does sure exist,
He’s heartless and there is no way,
A plea for mercy will be heard,
He’ll have his will, he’ll make you pay.
Van Helsing, he would scream and run!
No stake though heart or break of dawn,
Will slay this creature of the depths,
He rises still on each new morn.
Fear of the name, it has been said,
Makes what it names something to fear.
Although I know I can’t escape,
Defiantly, I’ll call him here.
Be brave! Hold fast! I call his name,
Add “Can’t catch me!” to my address,
Famous last words? They may well be…
…
… ‘Cos no-one* taunts the IRS.
” … But in the world nothing can be said to be certain except death and taxes.” Benjamin Franklin
*Seriously. You think I’d be calling up the IRS if I wasn’t British?
Around the Campfire 