Popcorn Addict

Like most folk, I have food addictions.  Fortunately, I’m not addicted to donuts, cake, nor pie.  Now, broccoli, zucchini, Italian food, rare steak, and baked potatoes awash in sour cream are high on my list, but popcorn is my compelling drug of choice.


My affair with popcorn began at an early age.  My father and grandfather grew the best popcorn at the family farm.  After the first-killing frost, we’d hand-harvest it, dry for a month, and then shuck the small white kernels.  Every Friday and Saturday nights we’d have popcorn, and we children were each permitted one, 8-ounce bottle of Squirt.  Popcorn also was the snack of choice at Saturday matinee movies.

Then, the theater lobbies were something to behold and the concession area was a work of art.  While I preferred the homegrown corn to the large, yellow popcorn of the movie house, theater offerings had mounds of butter.  (The only downside was flossing the huge hulls from between my teeth.)


Recently, I discovered Orville Redenbacher sells “tender baby white,” and it’s almost as good as homegrown.  However, though convenient, microwave popcorn just isn’t as good as what I used to pop on the stove.  Probably because it’s not drizzled and tossed with freshly, melted butter.  So I decided to fine-tune Orville’s creation.  This delectable is popcorn soup!  Microwaved popcorn, melted real butter, tossed, and eaten with a soup spoon.  Viola!  No more greasy fingers, nor dropping errant kernels on the sofa or floor.


Try it.  You’re welcome.



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