Marshmallow Ghosts

Halloween. The second pandemic Halloween. Noah is fifteen in spirit if not in calendar — he's outgrown trick-or-treating, or he's decided he has, which is the same thing. He stayed home and played saxophone and handed out candy to the few kids who came to the door, which in pandemic Des Moines was a handful of masked children and their cautious parents. Emma went as Frida Kahlo — flower crown, unibrow drawn with eyeliner, paint-spattered smock. The commitment to the bit was total. Jack went as a farmer, which required no costume. Kevin said, "Jack, that's just your regular clothes." Jack said, "Farmers don't need costumes." Fact.

I was in Grinnell. I carved a pumpkin for Mom and Dad — nothing fancy, the classic triangle eyes, the gap-toothed grin, the candle inside making the face glow on the porch in the October dark. Mom watched from the kitchen window. She used to carve pumpkins. She used to carve them with me, thirty-five years ago, at this table, with this knife, and the memory is the same shape as the pumpkin — round, orange, lit from within, and temporary.

I made pumpkin soup from the carving scraps — waste not, the farm wife's code. The soup was orange and soft and warm, and Mom ate a cup of it and said, "The nutmeg is right." The nutmeg is right. The small victories. The moments when the food is correct and the body accepts it and the kitchen works the way kitchens are supposed to work, which is to sustain people, which is what I'm doing, which is what I'll do until I can't.

Roger got his first flu shot — I drove him, because Roger in a pharmacy is like a cat in a bathtub, deeply opposed to the environment and tolerating it only under extreme pressure. He got the shot. He didn't complain. He ate the cookies I brought for the drive home. He said, "Flu shot and cookies. That's a deal." The simplest transaction. The Weber exchange rate: one medical compliance for two chocolate chip cookies. The economy works.

After the pumpkin was carved and the soup was simmering and the nutmeg was right, I wanted something easy and a little whimsical to leave by the door for the masked kids who braved the neighborhood — something that felt like Halloween without requiring any more of me than I had left to give. These Marshmallow Ghosts are exactly that: simple enough to make with one hand while stirring soup with the other, festive enough to make a fifteen-year-old saxophone player smirk, and sweet enough to feel like a reward for showing up at all, whether you showed up in a Frida Kahlo costume or just your regular farmer’s clothes.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 24

Ingredients

24 large marshmallows
1 1/2 cups white chocolate chips or white candy melts
1 tablespoon coconut oil or vegetable shortening
48 mini chocolate chips (for eyes)
24 lollipop sticks or toothpicks
Parchment paper, for setting

Instructions

Prepare your workspace. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set it nearby. Insert a lollipop stick or toothpick into the flat bottom of each large marshmallow.
Melt the coating. Combine white chocolate chips and coconut oil in a small microwave-safe bowl. Microwave in 30-second intervals, stirring between each, until fully melted and smooth, about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes total.
Dip the marshmallows. Hold each marshmallow by its stick and dip it into the melted white chocolate, turning to coat fully. Let any excess drip back into the bowl.
Add the eyes. While the coating is still wet, gently press two mini chocolate chips onto each marshmallow to form ghost eyes. Place flat-side out for best results.
Set and chill. Stand each dipped marshmallow upright on the prepared parchment sheet — the stick will hold it in place. Allow to set at room temperature for 15 minutes, or refrigerate for 5 minutes until the coating is firm.
Serve. Arrange on a plate or stand them in a shallow bowl of sugar for display. Store in a single layer in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Marshmallow Ghosts — The Sweet End to a Pandemic Halloween