There’s a guy who lives about a block over who goes all out for Halloween — the one who puts cobwebs all over his front porch and hides speakers, so he can play moans, or the sound of clanking chains, or Alice in Chains, or something similarly unnerving. There will be fake gravestones all over his front yard, and maybe a mottled, fiberglass hand forcing itself out from the ground. This was the guy who rigged a 15-foot tube from his second-floor window last year to slide candy to trick-or-treaters.
That seems like it would be exhausting.
And there’s the family down the street who dress up in themed costumes every year. Dad might be Chef Boyardee, Mom is a sexy can opener or something, the toddler is covered in tangled yarn and is spaghetti, and the baby is a meatball.
Seriously, there’s not enough therapy in the world to make that worthwhile.
There are the kids in their 20s at work who have been spending the last few weeks putting together extremely niche costumes to wear to excessively hip parties:
“No, you wouldn’t have heard of her — she’s a really obscure secondary character from Hello Kitty, but the joke is, I’m telling everyone that I’m wearing Korean underwear, but I’m not actually wearing ANY underwear!”
Presumably there will be a lot of drinking and associated lifelong regrets involved. That sort of thing is behind you; you promised yourself, “never again” after the Battlestar Galactica debacle of 2010.
So, what’s your role in Halloween this year?
Judging a reality competition show.
What you will need:
• 2 lawn chairs
• a best friend
• candy
• raspberry margaritas (See below.)
The object of the game is to pretend each trick-or-treater is a contestant on a costume competition show. You are the judges and neither of you entirely understands the rules. You can greet each kid with a slightly bewildering compliment:
“Batman! The little-black-dress of the costume world! You pull it off effortlessly, darling!”
“Charizard! Pokémon is so last season, but you make it work. I choose you, Little Man!”
To a parent: “Are you her manager? Make sure she gets this outfit trademarked.”
To the teenager with a pillowcase and no costume: “I’m sorry, we’re going to have to send you home this week. The others just wanted it more.”
Will the children be amused?
Not even remotely.
Will you and your friend?
More with each successive margarita.
Raspberry Margarita
2 ounces blanco tequila – I like Hornito’s for this.
1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice
1 ounce raspberry syrup (See below.)
Combine all ingredients over ice in a cocktail shaker.
Shake enthusiastically.
Serve in whatever glass you feel like, from a standard martini glass, to a rocks glass, to a vintage Flinstones jelly jar.
The beauty of this drink is that while it is blood-red and seasonally spooky-looking, it is a straightforward margarita. There are only three ingredients, and it takes about 30 seconds to make. The bracing, smoky, slightly musky taste of tequila is balanced by the sweetness of the raspberry syrup. The raspberry flavor gives this drink a fruity roundness, without ever making it candy-like. If you want candy, you’ve got a giant, plastic bowl of it next to you.
Raspberry Syrup
Frozen raspberries
White sugar
Combine a bag of grocery store frozen raspberries with an equal amount (by weight) of sugar in a small saucepan.
Cook over medium heat. As the berries thaw, the sugar will pull out a surprising amount of juice.
Bring to a boil. Boil for 15 to 20 seconds to make sure all the sugar has dissolved.
Let the mixture cool, then strain it through a fine-meshed strainer. It will keep in the refrigerator for a month or so.
Featured photo: The Trick or Treat Margarita. Photo by John Fladd.