The Popcorn Trials

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun
The New York Sun
NEW YORK SUN CONTRIBUTOR

When I was very young, there were two things I thought were magic: mail and popcorn. By now I’ve had enough frustrating postal experiences to cut that list in half.


Fortunately, popcorn remains as magical as ever. Even if you understand the physics of how popcorn pops (moisture inside each kernel turns to steam when heated, forcing the kernel inside-out), the process still seems miraculous. I used to think I could divine the secret if I just stared intently enough at the three test kernels when popping a batch on the stove, as if my sheer powers of concentration could somehow create a slow-motion effect. Naturally, it never worked, which is just as well – I’m happy popcorn still inspires my sense of childlike wonder.


Popcorn, which is native to North and South America, is thought to have been cultivated more than 5,000 years ago. It was served at the first Thanksgiving in 1621, and by the mid-1800s Americans were stringing popcorn on their Christmas trees. By the turn of the 20th century, popcorn was frequently being sold on street corners and in movie theaters.


Today’s hybridized strains of popcorn, originally developed by agricultural researchers such as Orville Redenbacher (yes, he was a real


person), are a quantum leap beyond that street-corner fare. About 98% of the kernels in a batch of modern popcorn will pop, a big improvement over a century ago, when a third of a typical batch resulted in old maids. Contemporary popcorn is fluffier, too.


According to figures from the Snack Food Association, a trade group, microwave popcorn now accounts for about 98% of pop-at-home sales. That’s fitting, because Percy Spencer, the Raytheon Corporation engineer who spurred the development of the microwave oven, used popcorn in many of his early experiments. But while microwave popcorn is undeniably convenient, popping on your stovetop gives you much more control over the finished product.


For starters, you can choose from all sorts of kernel varieties. I tried nearly a dozen while researching this article, ranging from common supermarket brands such as Orville Redenbacher’s and Jolly Time to gourmet varieties like Black Jewell and the beautiful red popcorn sold at Kitchen/Market in Chelsea (218 Eighth Ave., 212-243-4433, www.kitchenmarket.com),plus some organic brands.


And guess what? They all tasted like popcorn. In fact, the only real distinction was that Black Jewell popped up much smaller and less fluffy than the others (this supposedly makes it easier to digest, but I find the small pieces unsatisfying). The fact of the matter is that popcorn production has gotten so


good and so consistent that there’s little if any difference between brands. Even generic supermarket-label popcorn tastes fine.


So the real flavor determinants are in the preparation. For some people, that means sprinkling things such as paprika and cinnamon on their popcorn, but I’m too much of a salt-and-butter purist for that. I prefer subtler methods, like mixing a bit of hot sauce or pressed garlic into the melted butter before pouring it on the popcorn.


You can also adjust the flavor by changing the cooking oil. Whatever you do, avoid Orville Redenbacher’s Popping & Topping, a foul tasting product that claims to work equally well as a popping oil and as a butter-flavored topping. This may be an amusing echo of that old “Saturday Night Live” routine (“It’s a floor wax and a dessert topping!”), but it doesn’t make for good popcorn.


Instead, consider popping the kernels in olive oil instead of vegetable oil. This results in an earthier flavor, and is rich enough to make butter unnecessary. Just be sure to keep the burner heat a bit lower, because olive oil has a lower smoking point. Even better, if you can find it, is coconut oil (for a good source, go to www.coconutoil-online.com),which creates extremely crisp, clean-tasting popcorn and has a wonderfully fresh smell. And the thinking this week is that coconut oil is good for you, although the medical community seems to change its mind on that one rather frequently.


But if you really want a savory popcorn treat, try popping your kernels in bacon fat. The result tastes like, well, popcorn – but with a smoky undercurrent of pork. And yes, that’s a good thing.


If you insist on microwave popcorn, there’s certainly no shortage of options out there. Orville Redenbacher’s alone offers a whopping 21 different flavors, a few of which seem truly ridiculous. Does the world really need Cinnabon popcorn? (That’s strictly a rhetorical question – trust me.) Other major brands such as Act II, Pop Secret, and Newman’s Own have extensive product rosters as well.


The result is a dizzying array of product names and descriptions. What exactly is the difference, for example, between Redenbacher’s Butter flavor (described as having “just the right touch of butter and a pinch of salt”) and its Old Fashioned Butter flavor (“blended with real butter and sprinkled with salt”)? Or between their Honey Butter and Sweet ‘N Buttery varieties? Or between Pop Secret Butter and Pop Secret Movie Theater Butter?


In an attempt to sort things out, I went on a shopping spree and procured a few dozen different varieties of microwave popcorn (garnering some very odd looks on the checkout line). Armed with nothing but a microwave oven, a healthy appetite, and a single-minded sense of journalistic inquiry, I spent about 10 days eating popcorn. How much popcorn, you ask? Don’t ask.


The fruits of my labors are summarized in the accompanying chart, which breaks down the primary varieties for the four major microwave popcorn brands. While many of the products are mediocre at best, a few are every bit as good as stovetop popcorn.


The most interesting microwave popcorn, however, comes not from the big brands but from small farms in the Midwest, several of which sell popcorn still on the cob. A good example is Big Red Popcorn, a Nebraska product available atwww.bigredpopcorn.com. Each vacuum-sealed ear comes with a clear plastic microwave bag – you put the ear in the bag, put the bag in the microwave, and then watch as the kernels pop right off the cob.


The result tastes like – surprise! – popcorn. And since you have to add salt and butter yourself, you lose the convenience factor. But the novelty element more than makes up for that: Watching an ear of corn turn into a bag of popcorn qualifies as entertainment.


And speaking of novelty, no popcorn discussion would be complete without a mention of Jiffy Pop. Once a convenience product, its practical advantages have essentially been rendered moot by microwave popcorn – ironic, since Jiffy Pop’s corporate parent is ConAgra, which also owns Orville Redenbacher’s and Act II.


But Jiffy Pop is still fun, even for adults – or at least for this adult. As I recently popped a batch and watched the foil covering unfurl into that familiar turban shape, I was struck yet again by popcorn’s endlessly playful nature. That element of whimsy kept the smile on my face as I ate the finished product – which tasted, of course, like popcorn.

The New York Sun
NEW YORK SUN CONTRIBUTOR

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.


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