Monkey Nuts

Lorna has offered a new writing prompt this week but in keeping with the same theme as last week. A Sepia Toned Memory round up can be perused here. There is a lot of lovely writing to enjoy.

This week we are given an autumnal food memory. 

Monkey Nuts

‘Buy the monkey nuts Mammy!’ 

I had the poor mother tortured.

Every Halloween, the net bags of strange looking, bitter little brown nuts encased in crackable, rough edged shelling would appear on shop counters. On the actual counter because these were a special business. Just like the Santa foil on milk bottle tops, Easter lilies in Spring or Wexford strawberry stalls in summer, the monkey nut arrival was a true signalling of the changing of seasons. I made her buy them. Promises of eating them, loving them, needing them. Pleading. Cajoling. Halloween after all demanded monkey nuts.

I hadn’t a clue as to why.

You always gave a few to the pookies calling. You always received them too. Dressed in a black bin bag with holes for eyes and arms, you put on your plastic mask just before entering the garden of the house you were calling to, otherwise you would smother if you kept it on. The mask would be from the local shop. A selection would appear around monkey nut time and you might even get a new one. The elastic band would inevitably snap and there would be many irritable and desperate attempts to staple on another before heading out on the pookies.

Trick or treat only took off with the advent of Sky telly. (Before that we called it ‘going on the pookies’. A pookie was a spirit only known in Ireland). Now they are all trick or treaters. Costumes are lavish. TK Maxx. Argos. Tesco. You can be anything and barely use your imagination. Even grown ups are at it.

One thing has lasted. I still never let a Halloween party pass without giving out a few monkey nuts. My youngest is a ‘Halloween baby’ (October 25th). Her first birthday cake boasted a ghost and black icing. The walls were cobwebbed. Balloons were spider infested. A puking watermelon decorated the table. A bowl of monkey nuts caused much nostalgic conversation. I ate a few for old times sake.

Some things live in the past. Belong in the past. Some things have a powerful magic that can transport you into a time long gone and a place that will never be again. Monkey nuts are indeed that beast.

We never ate all of them. They tasted horrible. Mammy was right. Total waste of money.

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