If you must have Gamefood, eat real popcorn. Okay, maybe it's only as real as everything else, but it tastes better than the even less real kind you nuke or, heaven forbid, airpop.
Real Skillet Popped Corn
bag of real popcorn
vegetable oil
skillet with a tight lid
strong arm with bursitis-free elbow
Oil in skillet first, then add corn, spread in an even layer. Cover, turn to medium high. On the Mansion's fancy Tappan rangetop, that's a 5.
Proceed to build up the muscles in your best arm by holding the skillet handle and shaking it back and forth ON (not hovering over) the burner.
This is NOT something to try while the kids are asleep, especially if your lid has just enough play space to rattle from the shaking. But the sound is part of the deal here. If anyone ever invents a way to silently make popcorn on the stove, that'd be tantamount to the birth of MTV. (... and look where we are NOW)
Once you start hearing tiny singular explosions in the skillet, turn the heat down to medium (on the Tappan, that's a 4).
Keep shaking. Whatever you do, don't leave your skillet's side. Unless of course you happen to know that the cute, single guy is working this shift at the Volunteer Fire Department, and then it may be worth the blackened walls to walk away and head outside with the dogs to gaze at the stars over the laundry line.
Just like how microwave popcorn instructions warn you to stop production when you no longer hear popping sounds, the same applies to skillet popping. Those !ping! !ping! taps from the pan will soon enough sound like muffled gunshots -- not like the !kpfft! !kpfft! of a silencer, but more like it might sound if a little dog was trying to claw his way out of a closet. In the attic. When that sound stops, you know it's time to check on how things are doing.
Have a big bowl at the ready because if you just leave the popped corn in the skillet, even off the fire, the ones on the bottom will burn fast. Dump the corn into the bowl slowly enough to see what kind of shape you're in with the bottom kernels. If you've got a substantial amount of unpopped ones, go ahead and put those back on the burner, turn on the heat to medium again, and shake away some more. Waste not, want not.
Speaking of shaking, sprinkle your heart's desire on top of the popped stuff. Don't bother stirring it -- your seasonings will just slide to the bottom. But the nice thing about Real Skillet Popped Corn is that the little bit of oil you used will help your shaky stuff stick. Of course, unadulterated skillet popped corn is pretty good, too -- and in this case, MUCH better than the light (like mm mm styrofoam) taste of air-popped corn.
You can use almost anything that floats your boat on popcorn -- as long as it's not in liquid form. One of my favorites is (Unnamed Until A Contractual Advertising Agreement Is Drawn Up) for a salty/spicy/savory taste that almost makes this popcorn a side-dish. With beer.
You could get fancy and use lemon pepper. Serve with white wine.
Or go South of the Border with my chronic compulsions, comino and chili powder. More beer, please.
Of course, there's also parmesan cheese -- best, the powdery sticky kind from a shaker can. With chianti.
OH, the kids. Right. They may like sugar and cinnamon. But if they're preteen boys, they'll just inhale any kind you make without tasting it or even caring. And ask for more.
Real Skillet Popped Corn
bag of real popcorn
vegetable oil
skillet with a tight lid
strong arm with bursitis-free elbow
For each big two-person (or three little people) sized bowl of popped corn, use 3 tablespoons oil and 1/3 cup corn.
Oil in skillet first, then add corn, spread in an even layer. Cover, turn to medium high. On the Mansion's fancy Tappan rangetop, that's a 5.
Proceed to build up the muscles in your best arm by holding the skillet handle and shaking it back and forth ON (not hovering over) the burner.
This is NOT something to try while the kids are asleep, especially if your lid has just enough play space to rattle from the shaking. But the sound is part of the deal here. If anyone ever invents a way to silently make popcorn on the stove, that'd be tantamount to the birth of MTV. (... and look where we are NOW)
Once you start hearing tiny singular explosions in the skillet, turn the heat down to medium (on the Tappan, that's a 4).
Keep shaking. Whatever you do, don't leave your skillet's side. Unless of course you happen to know that the cute, single guy is working this shift at the Volunteer Fire Department, and then it may be worth the blackened walls to walk away and head outside with the dogs to gaze at the stars over the laundry line.
Just like how microwave popcorn instructions warn you to stop production when you no longer hear popping sounds, the same applies to skillet popping. Those !ping! !ping! taps from the pan will soon enough sound like muffled gunshots -- not like the !kpfft! !kpfft! of a silencer, but more like it might sound if a little dog was trying to claw his way out of a closet. In the attic. When that sound stops, you know it's time to check on how things are doing.
Have a big bowl at the ready because if you just leave the popped corn in the skillet, even off the fire, the ones on the bottom will burn fast. Dump the corn into the bowl slowly enough to see what kind of shape you're in with the bottom kernels. If you've got a substantial amount of unpopped ones, go ahead and put those back on the burner, turn on the heat to medium again, and shake away some more. Waste not, want not.
Speaking of shaking, sprinkle your heart's desire on top of the popped stuff. Don't bother stirring it -- your seasonings will just slide to the bottom. But the nice thing about Real Skillet Popped Corn is that the little bit of oil you used will help your shaky stuff stick. Of course, unadulterated skillet popped corn is pretty good, too -- and in this case, MUCH better than the light (like mm mm styrofoam) taste of air-popped corn.
You can use almost anything that floats your boat on popcorn -- as long as it's not in liquid form. One of my favorites is (Unnamed Until A Contractual Advertising Agreement Is Drawn Up) for a salty/spicy/savory taste that almost makes this popcorn a side-dish. With beer.
You could get fancy and use lemon pepper. Serve with white wine.
Or go South of the Border with my chronic compulsions, comino and chili powder. More beer, please.
Of course, there's also parmesan cheese -- best, the powdery sticky kind from a shaker can. With chianti.
OH, the kids. Right. They may like sugar and cinnamon. But if they're preteen boys, they'll just inhale any kind you make without tasting it or even caring. And ask for more.
as a popcorn perfectionist, i thank ye for this! but, there is a key missing ingredient---to bathe and bathe again in nutritional yeast. why yes, it is an o,d hippy food supplement, but i cannot eat popcorn without it. if nutri yeast is new to you, popcorn is the best way to try it out. you will convert, no doubt. what i love is real butter, sea salt, cayenne, and plenty of yeast! try it and enjoy!
Posted by: mary river | 04/01/2010 at 07:30 PM
Yyyeah... Mary, your comment has conjured up another opportunity for me to reveal my fine white-trash tuning from wayback.
When I hear the word "yeast", no matter the context, I don't think "edible". I won't go into details, cuz my mama taught me to be polite (though that's hard to tell about me), but yeast in my historical brain (which is full of concrete, clear-cut fields, and St Augustine lawns around cookie-cutter houses) is not something you want to put in your mouth.
And that's totally just me.
But I'm positive some other readers will be thrilled to hear your idea!
Posted by: trailer park bodhisattva | 04/02/2010 at 04:12 PM