Jenn McKinlay: In Arizona, we know a thing or two about the dead. We live in a place where the summer temperatures are so high that even the ghosts probably spend July haunting air-conditioned buildings.
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| Recipe and photo: https://flanandapplepie.wordpress.com/2013/11/02/calaveras-de-azucar/ |
But Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is something altogether different. It's not spooky or scary, even though it takes place right after Halloween, and shares a day with the Catholic All Souls Day. Día de los Muertos dates back over 3,000 years to pre-Columbian Mesoamerican and Aztec rituals honoring ancestors. In modern day, it is a beautiful Mexican tradition celebrating the lives of loved ones who have passed, welcoming their spirits home for a joyful reunion.
Families create colorful ofrendas, or altars, adorned with photographs, candles, marigolds, favorite foods,and treasured mementos. The bright orange marigolds are said to guide spirits home, which seems perfectly reasonable. If I were navigating the afterlife, I'd appreciate a little floral GPS, too.
The year my brother passed away unexpectedly I was understandably struggling. At the encouragement of my friend Maritza, I made my own ofrenda, and it really helped with both my grieving and gave me a sense of his presence for which I am ever grateful. I kept that altar up for months.
Of course, there's also pan de muerto, a sweet bread that's practically worth crossing the mortal divide for (see below photo and recipe), and calaveras de azucar (sugar skulls) decorated in dazzling colors (see above photo and recipe).
Photo and recipe: https://mexicanfoodjournal.com/pan-de-muerto/
Traditionally, families share stories of their loved ones, celebrating their lives. My friend, Jesus, told me they always laugh about his uncle who fancied himself quite the dancer after too much beer and my former co-worker, Anna, said they always remembered how her grandmother could silence an entire room with one raised eyebrow.
Here in Arizona, where Mexican and Indigenous traditions are woven into the fabric of our communities, Día de los Muertos feels especially meaningful. It's a reminder that death may end a life, but it doesn't end the stories, the laughter, or the love.
And if a departed relative happens to stop by for a little pan de muerto, well, who are we to turn away company?
Just make sure there's enough for everyone. Even the guests who don't need parking.
How about you Reds and Readers? Have you ever made an ofrenda, eaten a calavera de azucar or pan de muerto? Or do you have an ancestor or deceased loved one who you're thinking of today (every day)?