There was only one bag of microwave popcorn to share among four family members, myself included, on the chosen movie night. Sweet Husband and I would forego having popcorn, a necessary sacrifice for the girls to enjoy a little treat during our family time. 

But oh no, since the microwave’s turntable does not work, the bags never cook evenly, leaving several unpopped kernels along with a cluster of blackened popcorn that flavors the entire bag with its acrid taste. 

What else could I do? I had some plain kernels, purchased when and where, I cannot say. Would they even be any good? I had some brown paper lunch bags, so I tried mixing my own blend. I added the kernels and a little oil and salt. I folded the top of the bag over twice, sealing it tightly, the way the instructions said, but I threw out the resulting, smoking mess. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Happy Gilmore 2 wouldn’t wait for a run to the store for the microwave variety. Besides, this would be the third time, and isn’t it always the charm?

I remembered my mother cooking popcorn on the stove when I was a child, but I had never tried it myself.

I didn’t even look up a recipe. Working from memory, I coated the bottom of a large pasta pot with oil, added enough kernels to cover the base, and seasoned it with salt and a dash of garlic powder. I could already hear the sizzling of the oil and the kernels as I capped it with a lid. Before long, I had to use potholders to grip the handles and lid as I shook the pot vigorously, just the way I remembered my mother doing it.

“Pop, ping, pop,” I heard, as the kernels began to open under the stress of the heat and the pressure, and I saw steam begin to rise from the opening in the lid. 

I kept shaking the pot from side to side, returning it to the stove to maintain the heat, while listening to the infrequent pops grow to a steady clatter inside the aluminum pan. It smelled wonderful, with not a whiff of a scorched aroma, as the puffs of steam in the hole in the lid turned into a steady flow, as if coming from a locomotive. 

What did I see as I carefully lifted the lid? Fluffy, white popcorn filled the pot, and none of it was burned! It came cleanly out of the pot and into a large bowl, leaving no charred remnants behind.

I had forgotten how wonderful homemade popcorn could be. From savoring its warm, fresh scent, to peeking at those beautiful, perfectly popped kernels, the entire experience was so much more satisfying than opening a bag, punching a few digital numbers, and waiting for the critical two seconds between the pops. Time slowed as the family gathered in anticipation, and there was a tangible sense that a rare moment, where everything was right with the world, was happening.

We all indulged in the number one movie snack of all time. There was more than enough for everyone, just the way it should be. Strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Tuesday’s Gone” played throughout the movie, just the way it should be. 

But that’s the only movie spoiler you’ll get from me (the soundtrack is fire).

Why had I waited so long to try cooking popcorn the old-fashioned way, from scratch? Convenience, yes. My parents had eventually switched to those microwave bags filled with congealed oils and salt. They were faster and easier. Just open a bag and pop it in the microwave, and boom, you’re done in a few minutes. They were less messy, and that addictive flavor? Our taste buds were never quite satisfied with the plain stuff again.

We grew out of the old way and into a new one, but I had almost forgotten what it was to make it the “real” way:

A way that didn’t require extra packaging and the chemicals used in production.

A way that, once I had done it, took only a little more time than the more “convenient” microwave method.

A way that resulted in almost all the kernels being turned into a fluffy, delicious treat, so there was little waste of product.

A way that allowed everyone to flavor their bowl however they wanted. Melt your own butter, or leave it light. If you want cheddar or parmesan cheese, be my guest. As for seasonings, the sky’s the limit.

My teenage and young adult kids were both amazed. They had no prior recollection of making popcorn from scratch, but they do now. We will continue to add to our store of memories, and I’ll make sure that they know how to cook it the “old” way.

Then again, they might not have a choice. 

Spoiler alert: I’m done with the microwaveable stuff.