Thursday, February 05, 2004

Pop, pop, Karmelkorn, poppin’ it fresh…
When I was a kid, my mother owned a popcorn store. To be clear, it was popkorn. With a K. I hate that, now, but didn’t think it was odd at all at the time.

Anyway, in addition to affording me the hideous opportunity of being written up AND grounded for doing something stupid at work, it also wrecked me for all future popcorn delights. No caramel corn meets my standards, which are very high, indeed. I find myself appalled at the small, flat kernels that pass for popcorn in movie theaters, as well as the move away from coconut oil (oh, I know it!).

Just before it was time to close up at the end of the night, I liked to make a last batch of Karmelkorn with peanuts—extra brown sugar, light on the nuts. And I’d eat a bunch of it as hot as I could stand it.

Nothing like that. Nothing.

(Nods to flea for somehow reminding me of the terrible jingle from which I stole the title of this entry. One year over the holidays, my dad thought it would be good to put the jingle on endless loop. I think the government uses that, now, to extract information from people. But I’m not 100% certain.)

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