The First Cut Is the Sweetest

If you can believe it, my boyfriend has never carved a pumpkin--that is, not until this Halloween. Halloween has only recently become popular here, but in a decorative sort of way, not in the sense that kids dress up and trick or treat at neighbor's houses (though we did get one knock that we were entirely unprepared for--I gave them some expensive chocolates we happened to have in the house).

It's strange to be with someone with no memories of putting on costumes and wandering around the neighborhood part terrified, part thrilled, and completely jacked up on candy; someone without memories of plunging his hand into a wet pumpkin cave, and pulling out a fist full of slippery seeds and stringy goo; someone who has never had pumpkin pie or almost peed himself at a haunted house when a zombie grabbed his shoulder and laughed ghoulishly.

We had a dinner party planned a few days before Halloween, and a group of twelve Italians were coming over for a sit down meal. I decided I needed to celebrate home (as in, the U.S.) by decorating the room for the upcoming holiday. I dragged fake spider webbing over our shelves (complete with plastic spiders), hung a skeleton from the door frame, and placed a dark skull near the television. We also had pumpkin soup for dinner, with freshly roasted seeds as a garnish. Yum.

But the best part about the night, and Halloween in general, was watching Guido carve his first pumpkin--the final decorative touch. His face lit up like a child's as he stabbed the firm flesh with a knife and cut in diagonals to create the jagged mouth. It's a brutal process carving pumpkins, but he mastered it with glee. And soon, what do you know, a face emerged. You should have seen his delight when I darkened our living room and lit the candles inside the pumpkins. I'm not sure what glowed more--the jack-o-lanterns or Guido's delighted face.