A bit of vampire history for your Halloween bash

Pssst, you with the soggy cornflakes floating around your bowl. You might wanna put your spoon down.

WARNING: This is gonna get gross.

The subject here is vampires. Sorry, but it's that time of year. And this year bloodsuckin' is ... well ... bloody, bloody hot.

You might say it's splattered everywhere: Flip the TV channels, there it is dripping from "True Blood," the all-the-rage HBO series. "The Vampire Diaries" suck away on the CW network. Over at the book stalls, you've got "Twilight," "Twilight" and more "Twilight," the Stephenie Meyer series that can't be stanched. And just out: "Incarnadine: The True Memoirs of Count Dracula," a novel by D.H. Greene.

Be still thy bleeding hearts.

Seems like prime time for a Hallowed Eve's bash that's drip-drop-drippin' with the gory, the gross, the all-in-bloody-good-fun. Not even the Count himself would have counted on so many -- young and old -- being so bitten by this O-positive plunge.

This vampire thing goes back, all the way to antiquity. Old blood indeed. The trail begins in ancient Persia, where someone discovered a vase depicting a man struggling with a blood-sucking creature. The Aztecs, too, got in on the sanguineness, convinced that offering a victim's blood ensured fertilization of the Earth.

In Europe vampires pop up all over the place, with bloodthirsty goddesses in both Greek and Roman myth. During the 11th century, witches and doctors alike prescribed virgin blood to cure all sorts of ills. The bubonic plague was even thought to be the work of vampires. Unfortunately the panic of infestation prompted folks to bury the plagued before checking to make sure they really were dead, so the not-yet-dead had little choice but to claw their way out of graves, emerging scratched and bloody. Which nailed down the notion that vampires rose from the dead.

In the mid-15th century, vampirism got a boost from Vlad Tepes Dracula, Prince of Wallachia, an ancient kingdom that's now part of Romania. Ol' Vlad -- whose middle name, Tepes, means "Impaler" -- is remembered as a bloodthirsty tyrant who ordered thousands of people impaled. Four centuries later Bram Stoker made him a poster boy for vampires with his 1897 "Dracula."

Perhaps after all that gore you have little appetite for anything but a tall cold drink of ... tap water. Or maybe you're chompin' for a Halloween fete not to be forgotten. Think red, think bloody and forget the garlic.

bmahany@tribune.com

A bloody fete Dracula would thirst for

Here are a few ideas for your Halloween party menu, gathered from many places, including halloweenforum.com

--Blood sausage, of course

--Blood-splattered brains (goat cheese covered with tomato pesto)

--Bone marrow with coagulated blood (cream cheese dripping with cranberry sauce)

--Vampire repellent bits (garlic cloves wrapped in phyllo and walnuts)

--Bloody finger shots (one large shrimp in a shot glass with cocktail sauce)

--Decapitated Dracula (cheese ball decorated to look like a vampire head)

--Bloody drippin' vat (chocolate fondue with strawberries, aka "bloody itty-bitty hearts")

--Blood-bath punch (cranberry juice, ginger ale)

--Bloody Mary with ghoulish garnish

-- B.M.

Bubblin' vat of vampire broo-ha-ha (aka tomato and fennel soup with blood orange)

Prep: 30 minutes Cook: 1 hour Makes: 6 servings

Adapted from "Love Soup: 160 All-New Vegetarian Recipes from the Author of The Vegetarian Epicure," by Anna Thomas. If you can't find blood oranges, regular oranges may be used and add a drop of red food coloring.

1 ½ tablespoons olive oil

1 onion, chopped

1 large fennel bulb, chopped, some fronds reserved

1 teaspoon sea salt, plus more to taste

Freshly ground black pepper

2 cans (48 ounces each) diced fire-roasted tomatoes

1 ½ cups vegetable broth

¾ cup fresh blood orange juice plus grated zest of 1 blood orange

Ground red pepper

1 cup drained yogurt or creme fraiche

Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven; add the onion and fennel, sprinkled with a big pinch of salt and pepper to taste. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until soft and golden but not brown, 20 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and their juice, broth, blood orange juice and a pinch of ground red pepper. Lower heat to a simmer; cook covered until the fennel is entirely soft and the tomatoes have released their juice and turned dark, about 30 minutes.

Allow the soup to cool slightly; puree until smooth in a blender in batches or with an immersion blender. Return the soup to the heat; heat to a simmer. Taste; adjust seasoning with additional salt and pepper if needed. Add a touch more broth if it seems too thick.

Serve in shallow bowls garnished with a pinch of grated zest, a spoonful of the yogurt and sprigs of fennel fronds.

Nutrition information

Per serving: 198 calories, 19% of calories from fat, 4 g fat, 1 g saturated fat, 3 mg cholesterol, 33 g carbohydrates, 6 g protein, 1,684 mg sodium, 5 g fiber