Popcorn

There are a multitude of subjects that I am able to speak semi-intelligently on and in turn, lull you to sleep with. I am (sadly) well versed in comic book lore, The Who, Star Wars AND Star Trek, electric cars, mythologies of many ancient civilizations, guitars, drum making, various conspiracy theories, benefits of Metamucil, historical events, hobbies of my wife, film, dog breeds, the entire catalog of Danielle Steele, skunk extermination and what living with ADHD is like. That Danielle Steele thing isn’t true. I just read my list and it looked fairly ordinary and commonplace for a man of my particular type. I thought the cottage cheese could use some chives.

That list is a little bland, yes, however the passion is real. I do love learning more about those subjects very much (I would even be open to reading a Danielle Steele novel…no, I don’t think I really would). There is one subject that I seem to obsess on just a LITTLE more than those others these days and that is the culinary preparation of popped corn. I LOVE to make popcorn.

“But Steve,” you would say, “Have we not reached the end of what humans can do with popcorn? Can we not put a prepackaged bag of our preferred flavored kernels into a microwave machine and explode the grain more efficiently that way? What could you possible do better than that?”

I would tell you to never, EVER again put one of those wretched pre-packaged poison pouches into the food zapper and to allow me to call a hazmat team to dispose of anymore that you know of in the area. I despise it that much. And yes, I believe it is that bad for you.

I’m not going to go into the possible health risks of microwave popcorn. That wouldn’t be any fun and for some of you it would break your heart. I’ve never been accused of being a heartbreaker…ever, and I’m not about to start today. You’ll have to look up all that junk yourself. I’m here with the GOOD NEWS. I’m here with a better way.

If you wanted popcorn without all the trouble of the chemicals of the microwave kind, you might …kind of consider maybe, …perhaps just buying an air popper… (cough). I don’t own one. Not that they are a bad way to pop popcorn, many consider it to be the healthiest way. I just don’t care for it that way. But if that’s what keeps you dear readers from nuking a bag of chemically enhanced sodium inside a thin liner that melts off the bag wall and onto food you will ingest into the soft inner tissue of your body, then pretty please, with sugar on top, get the air popper. Don’t bring it to my house.

If you want a truly enjoyable popcorn experience, read on.

When my father isn’t golfing, euthanizing skunks or chasing my lovely mother around the house, he is snoring in front of a television with an old western movie playing. When he’s not doing that, he’s making popcorn for the family before the nightly ritual of television. He has been doing this since before I was born and some of my earliest memories of family life included a bowl of popcorn. An artisan popcorn chef, who trained his entire life perfecting an oil based popcorn recipe, he is as careful as a brain surgeon when it comes to popcorn. At least he is as careful as a brain surgeon making popcorn.

That might be a little over the top. Dad keeps his popcorn in an industrial sized mustard tub and describes his popcorn making style as “making popcorn.” I believe his oil of choice is canola, though I know for a fact that he has used vegetable oil in the past. His flavoring of choice is table salt. If a person watched my father making popcorn in my parent’s kitchen, they would simply see a man throwing some grain in some hot oil and creating fluffy white matter out of a steaming steel portal as easily as a stage magician conjures a long eared rodent from a tall silk hat. But it is more than that. Despite his interest in the football/baseball/golf game and/or Big Valley rerun he is watching, his internal clock is set with Swiss precision to the moisture level and oil temperature inside his kettle.

I watched this, and how he shook the pot to move the kernels gently, but thoroughly around in the unbearably hot oil. I studied how he kept the lid on, so that when the grain became excited and finally exploded with all the unbridled enthusiasm of a science class experiment that required goggles, nobody was blinded and seeds didn’t shoot all over the room. Genius.

It was unacceptable for kernels to escape popping. Dad would often wait until the last corn would pop before allowing the group into the grey-flecked melmac bowls in which we served popcorn, and only popped corn. It was as if the man had counted how many individual pieces of grain had entered the kettle and then counted backward until he had heard every single husk wrapped seed morph into a beautiful, fluffy, white micro-cloud of carbohydrate and dietary fiber. Dad had an unspoken philosophy of no kernel left behind.

Carefully he would then distribute popcorn in bowls, strait from the cooking pot. He would season the popcorn with nothing but common table salt. Dad can look at you as you explain to him how you, say, forgot to turn in your homework that day, and properly season three medium-sized bowls of perfectly popped corn, all the while maintaining eye contact with you to convey just enough disappointment that you will turn that homework in on time the next go around. It was like watching the NBA look-away, give and go. Ron Damm makes popcorn as easy as you draw and exhale breath right now.

I was in my late twenties before I felt that my soul was prepared enough to learn the craft of cooking the popping corn. I remember rehearsing the request in my head, “I feel I am ready. Will you teach me about popcorn?” Seemed too formal yet it sounded like I didn’t respect the grain enough. “Father, I think I’m ready for the family popcorn recipe. Will you teach me?” Seemed weak. He would deny the request because he wouldn’t feel I was up to the task. “Popcorn is our statement to the world father. Will you show me your popcorn secrets?” Almost. This was very close, but it lacked weight and smacked of pride, which is only undetectable whilst being spoken. And then it hit me, the perfect way to make the request of the craft that I felt was my birthright.

“Hey dad, will you show me how to make that?”

“Yeah, okay,” my father said, “you can make the next batch. Just take some of that oil there and pour some into the pan… maybe a little more… okay, that’s enough. Turn the burner on to a medium heat.”

“A medium heat? Not 3 or 4, but just a vague medium heat?” I asked for clarification.

“Well, you know, enough to heat up the oil.”

“Okay, and how will I know when to put the popcorn in?”

“Well, you can put a kernel in and when it pops, it is ready”

“When it is ready, how much popcorn will I put in?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple scoops?”

“Are you asking me, Dad?”

“A couple scoops. Good sized, maybe a little more. I use the scooper in the mustard jar.”

Dad stepped away to check the score of the baseball game. I could tell he was watching me, or letting me discover on my own like he did when he let me sled down the logging road or when he let me make rubber band guns with the band-saw in the 5^th grade. Master and apprentice, together again to ensure the passing of another skill from generation to generation. He wasn’t going to make it easy either.

Dad left me to fend for myself at the burner as he conveniently disappeared to the garage, probably to wait quietly until I had a chance to sink or swim. Like any apprentice left alone with the Master’s work I admit that I panicked. I’m not so proud to suggest that I was a natural. That first minute at the sizzling pot full of cooking corn was heart pounding. What next? What was the next step? I tried to relax my mind and find a moment years ago that had my father making popcorn. Popcorn, day? Night? Movie? Movie theater popcorn? Yes! No! We didn’t make popcorn at the theater. Home. We made it in the kitchen where I’m standing, but Dad stood here and I stood… sat on the parquet floor by where the birdcage was. Duke! Our parakeet’s name was DUKE. Breathe in. Dad made popcorn before the Muppet Show. Hurry Dad! It’s going to start and it’s the one where Luke Skywalker is on. Shake the popcorn faster. Breathe out. Shake it. Shake it. I have to shake it.

I came out of my daze not knowing how long I had been under, and began shaking the corn over the burner. I started erratically moving the pot over the heat and focused on the memory. My moves became deliberate and I covered the corn to protect against the inevitable tiny, violent explosions.

The corn began to pop and the kettle started to fill. The force of the popped kernels was beginning to push the lid off the pot. Where would I put the fresh popped corn?

Three stainless steel bowls appeared in a triangular formation on the counter next to me. To my shame, the old man had stepped in to save the corn. I instinctively removed the lid over the individual bowls and filled them with snowy, white… disappointment. It was chewy. I made chewy popcorn and anyone who has made the mistake of chewing gum and eating nuts will tell you, it is unpleasant like that.

“Not bad,” said the master.

“Don’t lie to me,” said the apprentice.

As daddy issues go, this is pretty tame.

That was over ten years ago. I have experimented with hundreds of batches of popcorn. I’ve used different oils, learned secrets from others and tested different techniques against controlled conditions. The results have been …impressive, if I do say so myself.

So from these experiments, I would like to impart on you a simple recipe for pretty Damm good popcorn.

Popcorn is unstable. The second you don’t respect it, it will burn the crap out of you with hot oil or in any number of other ways (seven). The point is. Although my father has been able to pay attention to three different sporting events while tending to scalding hot oil and naturally occurring explosives, you cannot. I have tended to the corn and only the corn each time I have made the commitment to pop it. It’s ten minutes of focus that, if done right, will be unbelievably gratifying. End of safety lecture. Come on, you’re adults. FIRE HOT. NO TOUCH FIRE.

I begin with a pot that will hold at least 8 quarts, and begin to heat it at a medium temperature on a burner. You will add your choice of oil immediately. Don’t leave an empty pot heating on the stove. Make sure you have a lid that covers that particular pot. Don’t put the lid on the pot yet because when you go to put the oil in the pot, you’ll just pour it on the lid and make a huge mess.

Choose your oil carefully. Make sure it is a COOKING OIL. You can use canola oil, vegetable oil, or others but many are looking at mono-fat types of oils like olive or peanut. An are considered by half the health profession as being “healthier”. Still some people use coconut oil, which this week may be considered healthy and you cannot eat enough of it, and next week considered to be worse for you than handling uranium rods. I use peanut oil as I like the way it cooks. It has a high smoke temperature and leaves a nutty aftertaste for some reason, some think it’s because it is peanut oil and peanuts are considered to be nuts. Duh.

If you want to get a little smoky flavor to it, add just a slight splash of sesame oil. Maybe not this time. Forget I said this.

In the 8 quart pot, I pour about 2/3 cup of peanut oil into the pot and let it heat up. It may require slightly more or slightly less, but the important part is that there is enough oil to sit at the bottom of the pot and come up to over the middle part of the kernels you are about to add. You can always add a little oil at a time until you’re happy with the level. Don’t over pour because it is harder to get the scalding hot oil out of the pot, than the cool oil in. Let the oil get nice and hot. Throw in a couple kernels and see if it sizzles. If it does, the oil is hot enough. If not, increase the temperature slowly until it does get a little sizzle.

Now it’s time to add about a cup-and-a-half of decent popcorn. I have been leaning more organic with the grain. Non-GMO, but hey, baby steps, I’m just glad you’re trying this out. Seriously, are you? I hope you are.

You want the kernels to cover the bottom of the 8 quart pot completely and add enough so there is about half as much more resting on top. There should be enough oil to nearly cover the bottom layer of kernels.

Now roll those kernels around slowly with the lid OFF every 15 to 20 seconds or so, keeping the temperature down to “low” or a “3” or something. I don’t know your stove, hopefully you do. Just keep rolling the corn around as they sizzle. Let the corn brown up slightly but evenly. Golden brown, more gold than brown is what you’re shooting for.

Now turn the heat up to “high” and put the lid ON. Leave it there as you continue to roll the corn around and shake it slightly to allow each kernel time on the heated surface of the pot. You should soon be hearing pops.

Where are you going to put the corn once it’s popped? Well you better figure it out. That corn is popping. Scream for someone to get you a big serving bowl or two. Probably two, I didn’t tell you this, but you just made way more popcorn than you probably need. You need at least two big bowls RIGHT NOW! AND KEEP THE CORN MOVING! WATCH THE LID. DON’T BURN YOURSELF!

As the popcorn moves to the top of the pot, remove the lid, set it aside, being careful that the super-hot oil doesn’t scorch something on your counter top or the counter top itself, because that’s not gonna please any housemate. I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET BOWLS! I guess a newspaper will work in a pinch, or a clean or mostly clean dish towel. You really do need to get some bigger bowls. Pour the popcorn out of the kettle evenly into the serving receptacle of your choice, in this case a funny cat calendar from two years ago, and get that very heavy and hot eight quart pot to the sink. Hopefully you don’t have any dishes in there.

Now you need to salt it to taste. A little goes a long way, and they make very good popcorn salts that are shaved much thinner and the salt crystals melt into the hot popcorn sealing to it. But this is all up to your taste.

Some people put a little hot sauce on it or grated cheese. I’m a simple salt guy. Now you have a lovely snack that you may find to be tastier than the over-oiled sodium bomb that is most movie theater bags of popcorn.

I’m into different types of popping corn and varieties, yes there are many. There are small red varieties, medium blue corn that carries less of a husk. Some are crunchier with more husk. I recommend trying… wait.

Did you turn the oven off? You should do that.

I think you can see that I care far too much for the activity of preparing and eating popcorn. But if you’ve made it this far, it means maybe you do to. I hope you give THIS a shot and you give up that nasty bag of pre wrapped junk. If you still feel the microwave is the best option for you. Just put your own kernels into a brown paper bag and do it that way. You don’t want to get popcorn lung. It’s a real thing, and that’s the Damm truth.