Sacred Spirits, Sweet Ghosts

As October gives way to November, a unique and ancient atmosphere descends upon Italy. While much of the world is caught up in the modern revelry of Halloween, Italy engages in a deeper, more layered observance. The period encompassing November 1st, Ognissanti (All Saints’ Day), and November 2nd, Il Giorno dei Morti (the Day of the Dead), is a time when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is thought to become thin. It is a moment of profound connection to ancestry, marked by a fascinating blend of solemn Catholic ritual and vibrant, joyful folk traditions. Far from being a morbid occasion, it is a uniquely Italian expression of memory, where quiet reflection in cemeteries is complemented by the surprising sweetness of lovingly prepared food.

The foundation of the observance is sacred and unifying across the peninsula. On these days, Italians flock to cemeteries in one of the country’s most heartfelt annual rituals. It is a quiet, tender act of remembrance. Families gather to meticulously clean and tend to the graves of their ancestors, scrubbing the marble and refreshing the memorial photographs. The cemeteries, often beautiful, cypress-lined cities of the dead in their own right, burst into colour as graves are adorned with fresh flowers, especially chrysanthemums, whose autumnal bloom has long associated them with mourning and remembrance in Italy. As dusk falls, thousands of candles are lit, their flickering flames creating a silent, poignant constellation that illuminates the connection between past and present generations. It is not a gesture of sorrow, but one of care—a way of tending to memory and ensuring that loved ones are not forgotten.

Yet, alongside this solemnity exists a parallel world of profane, or folkloric, celebration, one that is expressed most powerfully through food. These traditions hark back to pre-Christian beliefs about nourishing the spirits of the dead who were thought to return to their homes on this night. In many regions, families would leave an extra place set at the dinner table or leave out offerings of bread and wine to welcome their spectral visitors. Over centuries, these rituals evolved into the creation of special “sweets of the dead,” each with its own regional identity and symbolism.

Nowhere is this tradition more alive and joyful than in Sicily. Here, the Day of the Dead is transformed into a celebration that rivals Christmas in its excitement for children. The belief is that on the night of November 1st, deceased relatives visit the homes of their families to leave sweets and gifts for the well-behaved children. This turns a day of remembrance into one of joyful anticipation. The pastry shops of Palermo and Catania display an astonishing array of intricate treats. The most famous is the Frutta Martorana, breathtakingly realistic marzipan creations, hand-painted to perfectly mimic apples, figs, lemons, and other fruits. Legend traces their origin to the Martorana convent in Palermo, where nuns decorated bare trees with the marzipan fruits to impress a visiting archbishop. Alongside them are the Ossa dei Morti (“bones of the dead”), hard, crunchy cookies, often scented with cloves and cinnamon, whose pale, irregular shapes evoke their name. Finally, there are the colourful Pupi di Zucchero (sugar dolls), hollow statues of sugar representing chivalrous knights or elegant ladies, which stand like edible artworks in the shop windows.

This tradition of commemorative sweets is found all over Italy. In Lombardy and other parts of the north, bakeries produce Pan dei Morti (“bread of the dead”), a dense, dark, chewy cookie-bread made from a mix of crumbled biscuits, nuts, dried figs, and spices. In central regions like Umbria and Lazio, one finds Fave dei Morti (“beans of the dead”), small, soft almond-paste cookies. Their shape recalls the fava bean, which held a symbolic connection to the underworld and the souls of the dead for the ancient Etruscans and Romans.

From an anthropological perspective, these rituals are a masterful way of processing grief and maintaining family bonds. The act of offering food to the dead is a way of continuing a relationship, of transforming an absence into a presence through a shared act of nourishment, even if only symbolic. For the living, these traditions are a powerful vehicle of cultural transmission. The recipes for these sweets are passed down from grandmother to grandchild, and the annual act of baking them becomes a living, breathing history lesson. It provides a tangible and gentle way to talk to children about their ancestors and the cycle of life and death, replacing fear with a sense of wonder and sweet anticipation.

In its observance of these days, Italy reveals its unique ability to hold the sacred and the profane in perfect balance. It is a culture that looks directly at mortality but chooses to respond not only with prayer and reverence, but with colour, artistry, and the profound, life-affirming comfort of sweetness. It is a time that beautifully illustrates a core Italian belief: that the most powerful way to honor the dead is to fully and joyfully embrace the sweetness of life.