October 30, 2025 • 15 mins
A virtual Halloween cook-along, a cryptic newcomer named Shadow Weaver, and a blackberry gummy that turns the night electric, this is the story of how a simple edible became a shared moment of wonder. We gather at the High Table with costumes, cobwebs, and a plan to swap recipes, then stumble into a poetic set of instructions that walk the line between kitchen craft and kitchen spell. The result is a deeply purple, precisely dosed treat we can all make at home, wrapped in a mood that invites curiosity and play.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
SPEAKER_00 (01:40):
What happens when you take a love of food, a
passion for culture, and a deepknowledge of cannabis, and you
toss them into one big cauldron?
You get Vite Me, the podcastthat explores the intersection
of food, culture, and cannabisand helps cooks make great
edibles at home.
I am your host, Margaret, acertified gangier, a TCI
(02:03):
certified cannabis educator, andI believe your kitchen is the
best dispensary you'll everhave.
Together we'll explore thestories, the science, and the
sheer joy of making safe,effective, and unforgettable
edibles at home.
So preheat your oven and getready for a great episode.
Let's dive in, shall we?
(02:27):
Hello, my wonderful Bite Mefamily, and welcome to a very
special, very spooky Halloweenepisode.
I'm your host, Margaret, andtoday or tonight, depending on
when you're listening to this, Ihave a story to share with you.
It's a true tale, or at least astrue as any story can be when
(02:49):
cannabis edibles and Halloweennight collide.
So grab your favorite infusedtreat, get comfortable, and let
me tell you about the night thatthe high table got haunted.
(03:12):
It was Halloween night, justlast year.
I had organized a virtualHalloween party for the Bite Me
Canvas Club, and the turnout wasincredible.
My kitchen was decorated withcobwebs and spiders and black
lights were on, and my laptopscreen was filled with the
smiling faces of our communitymembers, each one broadcasting
(03:33):
from their own festivelydecorated kitchen.
There were members fromAustralia waving
enthusiastically at theircameras, backgrounds adorned
with dangling bats.
There were members from the USAwearing magnificent witch's
hats, already stirring somethingmysterious in the large mixing
(03:54):
bowl.
There were some from Canadacarefully arranging ghost-shaped
cookie cutters on the counter, acheerful skeleton prop peering
over shoulders.
The energy was electric.
Everyone was showing off theircostumes, their decorations, and
most importantly, the ediblesthey were planning to make that
(04:15):
evening.
Someone announced that she wasmaking a witch's brew brownies
with dark chocolate, espresso,and a sativa dominant infusion.
Another was tackling a gingersnap cookie recipe, which they'd
renamed Ginger Dead Men for theoccasion.
(04:35):
The chat was flying withrecipes, tips, and plenty of
laughter.
And that's when I heard it.
A quiet notification sound.
Someone new had joined thewaiting room.
I glanced at the name.
Shadow Weaver.
Now we get new members joiningour events all the time, so I
(04:55):
didn't think much of it.
I clicked to admit them to thecall, and a new black square
appeared on the screen.
And the camera was off, and themicrophone muted.
And for a moment nothinghappened.
Then a message appeared in thechat, typed in an elegant,
almost old-fashioned font.
(05:16):
An honor to be here.
The energy is potent tonight.
Someone typed back a cheerfulwelcome, encouraging them to
turn on their camera and join inthe fun.
But Shadow Weaver remainedsilent.
Their square stubbornly black.
A few seconds later, anothermessage appeared.
(05:38):
I've a recipe to share.
For the occasion.
They're called Ghostly Gummies.
Well, that got everyone'sattention.
A new recipe is always exciting,especially one with such a
perfectly spooky name.
I encouraged Shadow Weaver toshare the details, and what
followed was unusual to say theleast.
(05:59):
The recipe they described wassomething out of a fairy tale.
Moon ripened blackberries, awhisper of vanilla, a cup of
spring water gathered under afull moon, and my personal
favorite, a pinch of midnightair.
Someone joked that she was freshout of midnight air and asked if
(06:19):
extra cinnamon would work.
We all laughed, but ShadowWeaver seemed completely
serious.
They continued to post cryptic,poetic instructions in the chat,
each one more mysterious thanthe last.
Now I'm all for creativity inthe kitchen, but I'm also
practical.
(06:39):
So I suggested we adapt therecipe to something we could
actually make with ingredientsfrom our pantries.
Storebought blackberries insteadof moon ripened ones, tap water
instead of spring watercollected under a full moon.
And we'd skip the midnight airentirely, thank you very much.
But here's the thing (06:57):
Shadow Weaver kept chiming in with
their strange advice, andsomehow it added this wonderful
theatrical layer to the wholeexperience.
They told us to stircounterclockwise to undo the
day's worries, to fold in thegelatin slowly, like a secret
being whispered.
(07:18):
And they insisted the infusionshould be from a cultivar that
encouraged perception, whateverthat meant.
We all decided to make thegummies together.
We melted our gelatin, infusedour oils, and mixed in the
blackberry puree.
The mixture turned this gorgeousdeep purple color almost glowing
(07:40):
under our kitchen lights.
We poured it into ghost-shapedmolds and popped them into our
freezers to set.
We waited.
While we waited, we continuedchatting, sharing stories about
our favorite Halloween memoriesand the best edibles we'd ever
made.
Shadow Weaver remained quiet.
(08:00):
Their black, square, a silentpresence among our lively faces.
It was a little eerie, I'lladmit, but in a fun,
Halloween-appropriate way.
After about twenty minutes, thegummies were ready.
I pulled mine out of thefreezer, and they looked
perfect, translucent, purple,and shimmering in the light.
The others all showed off theirbatches too.
(08:23):
On the count of three, we eachpopped a ghostly gummy into our
mouths.
The flavor was incredible, sweetand tart, and just a hint of
vanilla and that familiar,earthy undertone of cannabis.
And then something strange beganto happen.
Susie was the first to notice.
She suddenly stoppedmid-sentence and looked around
(08:46):
her kitchen, her eyes widened.
Wait, she said, It's all gonecold all of a sudden.
Anyone else feel that?
I hadn't noticed anything in myown kitchen.
But then John chimed in.
Yeah, I've got goosebumps.
And do you hear that?
(09:06):
Through my headphones I couldhear it too.
A faint soft whispering like therustling of dry leaves.
But it wasn't coming from thecall.
It sounded like it was in theroom with us.
That's when Shadow Weaver sentanother message.
The veil is thin on Halloween.
The gummies don't create.
(09:28):
They simply help you see what'salways been there.
A chill ran down my spine, butit was the good kind, the
exhilarating Halloween nightkind.
And then Samantha gasped.
Margaret, you're not going tobelieve this.
Look at my webcam.
I leaned closer to my screen,staring at Samantha's video
(09:50):
feed, and there, floating justbehind her shoulder, was a small
shimmering apparition.
It was translucent and glowedwith a soft green light.
It wasn't a terrifying spectrefrom a horror movie.
It was shaped unmistakably likea cannabis leaf.
Before I could even begin toprocess what was ha what I was
seeing, Susie shrieked withlaughter.
(10:11):
I've got one too! A littleghost, a pot ghost.
On her screen, another tinyglowing cannabis leaf spirit
zipped past, giggling like thetinkling of tiny bells.
It playfully nudged a measuringspoon on her counter, sending it
clattering to the floor.
John's camera suddenly showedthree of them swirling around
(10:35):
his kitchen like fireflies.
One of them dove into his bag offlour and emerged covered in
white powder, looking even morelike a classic cartoon ghost.
I sat there absolutelymesmerized.
The others at the high table whohadn't made the gummies were
frantically typing into thechat.
Susie, Samantha, and John werenarrating their experiences in
(10:57):
real time, their voices filledwith wonder and delight.
The ghostly spirits grew bolder.
They changed the color of John'sHalloween lights from orange to
green and back again.
They danced in the steam risingfrom Samantha's kettle.
They hid in the shadows underSusie's cabinets and peeked out
(11:17):
from behind her spice rack.
They weren't scary at all.
They were playful, curious, andseemed to be made of pure,
joyful energy.
I couldn't see them myself sinceI was watching through a screen
and hadn't eaten one of thegummies yet.
But the three of them describedevery detail, and their shared
experience was so vivid, soconsistent that I knew something
(11:39):
truly extraordinary washappening.
I encouraged them to stay calmand enjoy the moment.
This was what we always talkedabout in the club: cannabis
opening up our creativity, ourperception, helping us to see
the world in new ways.
Maybe Shadow Weaver had beenright.
Maybe the gummies didn't createthe spirits, they just helped us
(12:00):
see what has always been there,hiding in the corners, waiting
for someone to notice.
For nearly an hour, the three ofthem watched the tiny cannabis
leaf ghosts flit around theirkitchens.
They described the spirits'movements, their personalities.
One was shy, anothermischievous.
A third seemed fascinated by thelight from the refrigerator.
(12:20):
It was like watching childrendiscover magic for the first
time.
And then, just as the peak ofthe edibles began to mellow, the
spirits started to fade.
One by one, they waved tinytranslucent goodbyes and winked
out of existence, leaving behindonly the lingering scent of
blackberry and a profound senseof wonder.
The kitchen temperaturesreturned to normal.
(12:43):
The whispers ceased.
Susie, Samantha, and John lookedat each other through their
screens, their faces glowingwith joy.
John was the first to speak.
That, he said, his voice filledwith awe, was the best edible
I've ever had.
Susie nodded enthusiastically.
We have to make those again nextyear.
(13:04):
I wouldn't have believed it ifyou hadn't all seen it too.
The rest of the high table wasbuzzing with excitement.
Everyone wanted the recipe.
Everyone wanted to try it.
The chat was a flurry ofquestions and exclamations.
I looked down at the chat tothank Shadow Weaver for sharing
such an incredible recipe, buttheir black square was gone.
They had left the call without aword, leaving behind only one
(13:27):
final message.
Happy Halloween, bite me family.
Remember the best treats are theones that open your eyes.
Stay lifted.
I sat back in my chair, staringat my screen, my mind racing.
Who was Shadow Weaver?
Where had they come from?
And how had they known therecipe would create such an
unforgettable experience?
(13:49):
I'll probably never know theanswers to these questions, but
I do know this (13:53):
that Halloween night reminded me why I started
this show in this community inthe first place.
It's not just about the recipesor the chemistry or getting the
dosage right.
It's about the connection, theshared experiences, the magic
that happens when we cometogether, even across thousands
of miles, to explore theincredible plant and all the
(14:14):
ways it can open our hearts, ourminds.
As I said goodbye and startedshutting down the call, I
noticed something on my ownkitchen counter.
One of the ghostly gummies Imade was still sitting on a
plate, glowing faintly in thedim light.
I hadn't eaten it yet.
I'd been too busy hosting theevent.
I picked it up, held it up tothe light, and smiled.
(14:34):
Then I popped it into my mouth.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then out of the corner of myeye, I saw it.
A tiny shimmering cannabis leafshaped spirit hovering just
above my spice rack.
It looked at me, winked, anddissolved into a final sparkling
puff of midnight air.
(14:56):
Happy Halloween, everyone.
Stay safe, stay curious, andstay high.
What happens when you take a love of food, a
passion for culture, and a deepknowledge of cannabis, and you
toss them into one big cauldron?
You get Vite Me, the podcastthat explores the intersection
of food, culture, and cannabisand helps cooks make great
edibles at home.
I am your host, Margaret, acertified gangier, a TCI
(02:03):
certified cannabis educator, andI believe your kitchen is the
best dispensary you'll everhave.
Together we'll explore thestories, the science, and the
sheer joy of making safe,effective, and unforgettable
edibles at home.
So preheat your oven and getready for a great episode.
Let's dive in, shall we?
(02:27):
Hello, my wonderful Bite Mefamily, and welcome to a very
special, very spooky Halloweenepisode.
I'm your host, Margaret, andtoday or tonight, depending on
when you're listening to this, Ihave a story to share with you.
It's a true tale, or at least astrue as any story can be when
(02:49):
cannabis edibles and Halloweennight collide.
So grab your favorite infusedtreat, get comfortable, and let
me tell you about the night thatthe high table got haunted.
(03:12):
It was Halloween night, justlast year.
I had organized a virtualHalloween party for the Bite Me
Canvas Club, and the turnout wasincredible.
My kitchen was decorated withcobwebs and spiders and black
lights were on, and my laptopscreen was filled with the
smiling faces of our communitymembers, each one broadcasting
(03:33):
from their own festivelydecorated kitchen.
There were members fromAustralia waving
enthusiastically at theircameras, backgrounds adorned
with dangling bats.
There were members from the USAwearing magnificent witch's
hats, already stirring somethingmysterious in the large mixing
(03:54):
bowl.
There were some from Canadacarefully arranging ghost-shaped
cookie cutters on the counter, acheerful skeleton prop peering
over shoulders.
The energy was electric.
Everyone was showing off theircostumes, their decorations, and
most importantly, the ediblesthey were planning to make that
(04:15):
evening.
Someone announced that she wasmaking a witch's brew brownies
with dark chocolate, espresso,and a sativa dominant infusion.
Another was tackling a gingersnap cookie recipe, which they'd
renamed Ginger Dead Men for theoccasion.
(04:35):
The chat was flying withrecipes, tips, and plenty of
laughter.
And that's when I heard it.
A quiet notification sound.
Someone new had joined thewaiting room.
I glanced at the name.
Shadow Weaver.
Now we get new members joiningour events all the time, so I
(04:55):
didn't think much of it.
I clicked to admit them to thecall, and a new black square
appeared on the screen.
And the camera was off, and themicrophone muted.
And for a moment nothinghappened.
Then a message appeared in thechat, typed in an elegant,
almost old-fashioned font.
(05:16):
An honor to be here.
The energy is potent tonight.
Someone typed back a cheerfulwelcome, encouraging them to
turn on their camera and join inthe fun.
But Shadow Weaver remainedsilent.
Their square stubbornly black.
A few seconds later, anothermessage appeared.
(05:38):
I've a recipe to share.
For the occasion.
They're called Ghostly Gummies.
Well, that got everyone'sattention.
A new recipe is always exciting,especially one with such a
perfectly spooky name.
I encouraged Shadow Weaver toshare the details, and what
followed was unusual to say theleast.
(05:59):
The recipe they described wassomething out of a fairy tale.
Moon ripened blackberries, awhisper of vanilla, a cup of
spring water gathered under afull moon, and my personal
favorite, a pinch of midnightair.
Someone joked that she was freshout of midnight air and asked if
(06:19):
extra cinnamon would work.
We all laughed, but ShadowWeaver seemed completely
serious.
They continued to post cryptic,poetic instructions in the chat,
each one more mysterious thanthe last.
Now I'm all for creativity inthe kitchen, but I'm also
practical.
(06:39):
So I suggested we adapt therecipe to something we could
actually make with ingredientsfrom our pantries.
Storebought blackberries insteadof moon ripened ones, tap water
instead of spring watercollected under a full moon.
And we'd skip the midnight airentirely, thank you very much.
But here's the thing (06:57):
Shadow Weaver kept chiming in with
their strange advice, andsomehow it added this wonderful
theatrical layer to the wholeexperience.
They told us to stircounterclockwise to undo the
day's worries, to fold in thegelatin slowly, like a secret
being whispered.
(07:18):
And they insisted the infusionshould be from a cultivar that
encouraged perception, whateverthat meant.
We all decided to make thegummies together.
We melted our gelatin, infusedour oils, and mixed in the
blackberry puree.
The mixture turned this gorgeousdeep purple color almost glowing
(07:40):
under our kitchen lights.
We poured it into ghost-shapedmolds and popped them into our
freezers to set.
We waited.
While we waited, we continuedchatting, sharing stories about
our favorite Halloween memoriesand the best edibles we'd ever
made.
Shadow Weaver remained quiet.
(08:00):
Their black, square, a silentpresence among our lively faces.
It was a little eerie, I'lladmit, but in a fun,
Halloween-appropriate way.
After about twenty minutes, thegummies were ready.
I pulled mine out of thefreezer, and they looked
perfect, translucent, purple,and shimmering in the light.
The others all showed off theirbatches too.
(08:23):
On the count of three, we eachpopped a ghostly gummy into our
mouths.
The flavor was incredible, sweetand tart, and just a hint of
vanilla and that familiar,earthy undertone of cannabis.
And then something strange beganto happen.
Susie was the first to notice.
She suddenly stoppedmid-sentence and looked around
(08:46):
her kitchen, her eyes widened.
Wait, she said, It's all gonecold all of a sudden.
Anyone else feel that?
I hadn't noticed anything in myown kitchen.
But then John chimed in.
Yeah, I've got goosebumps.
And do you hear that?
(09:06):
Through my headphones I couldhear it too.
A faint soft whispering like therustling of dry leaves.
But it wasn't coming from thecall.
It sounded like it was in theroom with us.
That's when Shadow Weaver sentanother message.
The veil is thin on Halloween.
The gummies don't create.
(09:28):
They simply help you see what'salways been there.
A chill ran down my spine, butit was the good kind, the
exhilarating Halloween nightkind.
And then Samantha gasped.
Margaret, you're not going tobelieve this.
Look at my webcam.
I leaned closer to my screen,staring at Samantha's video
(09:50):
feed, and there, floating justbehind her shoulder, was a small
shimmering apparition.
It was translucent and glowedwith a soft green light.
It wasn't a terrifying spectrefrom a horror movie.
It was shaped unmistakably likea cannabis leaf.
Before I could even begin toprocess what was ha what I was
seeing, Susie shrieked withlaughter.
(10:11):
I've got one too! A littleghost, a pot ghost.
On her screen, another tinyglowing cannabis leaf spirit
zipped past, giggling like thetinkling of tiny bells.
It playfully nudged a measuringspoon on her counter, sending it
clattering to the floor.
John's camera suddenly showedthree of them swirling around
(10:35):
his kitchen like fireflies.
One of them dove into his bag offlour and emerged covered in
white powder, looking even morelike a classic cartoon ghost.
I sat there absolutelymesmerized.
The others at the high table whohadn't made the gummies were
frantically typing into thechat.
Susie, Samantha, and John werenarrating their experiences in
(10:57):
real time, their voices filledwith wonder and delight.
The ghostly spirits grew bolder.
They changed the color of John'sHalloween lights from orange to
green and back again.
They danced in the steam risingfrom Samantha's kettle.
They hid in the shadows underSusie's cabinets and peeked out
(11:17):
from behind her spice rack.
They weren't scary at all.
They were playful, curious, andseemed to be made of pure,
joyful energy.
I couldn't see them myself sinceI was watching through a screen
and hadn't eaten one of thegummies yet.
But the three of them describedevery detail, and their shared
experience was so vivid, soconsistent that I knew something
(11:39):
truly extraordinary washappening.
I encouraged them to stay calmand enjoy the moment.
This was what we always talkedabout in the club: cannabis
opening up our creativity, ourperception, helping us to see
the world in new ways.
Maybe Shadow Weaver had beenright.
Maybe the gummies didn't createthe spirits, they just helped us
(12:00):
see what has always been there,hiding in the corners, waiting
for someone to notice.
For nearly an hour, the three ofthem watched the tiny cannabis
leaf ghosts flit around theirkitchens.
They described the spirits'movements, their personalities.
One was shy, anothermischievous.
A third seemed fascinated by thelight from the refrigerator.
(12:20):
It was like watching childrendiscover magic for the first
time.
And then, just as the peak ofthe edibles began to mellow, the
spirits started to fade.
One by one, they waved tinytranslucent goodbyes and winked
out of existence, leaving behindonly the lingering scent of
blackberry and a profound senseof wonder.
The kitchen temperaturesreturned to normal.
(12:43):
The whispers ceased.
Susie, Samantha, and John lookedat each other through their
screens, their faces glowingwith joy.
John was the first to speak.
That, he said, his voice filledwith awe, was the best edible
I've ever had.
Susie nodded enthusiastically.
We have to make those again nextyear.
(13:04):
I wouldn't have believed it ifyou hadn't all seen it too.
The rest of the high table wasbuzzing with excitement.
Everyone wanted the recipe.
Everyone wanted to try it.
The chat was a flurry ofquestions and exclamations.
I looked down at the chat tothank Shadow Weaver for sharing
such an incredible recipe, buttheir black square was gone.
They had left the call without aword, leaving behind only one
(13:27):
final message.
Happy Halloween, bite me family.
Remember the best treats are theones that open your eyes.
Stay lifted.
I sat back in my chair, staringat my screen, my mind racing.
Who was Shadow Weaver?
Where had they come from?
And how had they known therecipe would create such an
unforgettable experience?
(13:49):
I'll probably never know theanswers to these questions, but
I do know this (13:53):
that Halloween night reminded me why I started
this show in this community inthe first place.
It's not just about the recipesor the chemistry or getting the
dosage right.
It's about the connection, theshared experiences, the magic
that happens when we cometogether, even across thousands
of miles, to explore theincredible plant and all the
(14:14):
ways it can open our hearts, ourminds.
As I said goodbye and startedshutting down the call, I
noticed something on my ownkitchen counter.
One of the ghostly gummies Imade was still sitting on a
plate, glowing faintly in thedim light.
I hadn't eaten it yet.
I'd been too busy hosting theevent.
I picked it up, held it up tothe light, and smiled.
(14:34):
Then I popped it into my mouth.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then out of the corner of myeye, I saw it.
A tiny shimmering cannabis leafshaped spirit hovering just
above my spice rack.
It looked at me, winked, anddissolved into a final sparkling
puff of midnight air.
(14:56):
Happy Halloween, everyone.
Stay safe, stay curious, andstay high.
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