My love of popcorn goes back for years. My first memories of popcorn are my grandfather popping it in a black metal popcorn popper in the fireplace. He used fantastic popcorn seasonings, which are probably extinct now, and I think that it was the best popcorn I ever had. I’d lay there in front of the fire, the heat beating just bearably on my face, while he shook the popper gently, as the rattling and tapping in the pan intensified, then lessened, and then as he poured it out for me in a bowl and seasoned it.
After school I would come home and my mother would make me a little bowl of popcorn in an armatelle pan, salting it just right so I could sit in the kitchen talking to her about how the day had been. The smell was buttery and warm, and it eased many an awful school day.
Bonnie and I bought a whirley-pop popper at Ace Hardware, and it makes a mighty batch of salty popcorn. She’ll look at me bright-eyed as we are watching a movie and say, “popcorn?” and of course I have to make it for her! It roars as I grind around the arms inside, stirrring up the kernals to jump in the salt and oil. It is so good . . . .
(Real movie corn? Eh. The oil’s too heavy, and never get the butter: it’s like motor oil.)
There’s some local companies that make corn to pack and sell in seasonal tins, and I always liked it too, all the flavors (especially,carmel, or cheddar, or . . . blue–not that I know what it was meant to be!) and got it from my grandparents, again, for Christmas. It reminds me a lot of good times.
So if anyone out there wants to get me some quality gourmet popcorn (from a convenient online site–check out the Halloween tins that you can personalize!) for the holidays (my birthday is coming up) I’ll call you my friend forever. It is, you know, the gift of memory, and a piece of childhood given back. This year, it might be the best gift you can give.
