Memoirs of a Redhead

One time in college I ate too much popcorn.  It wasn't one night, or one day, but it was one season of my 
life when popcorn tasted so good to me.  It must've run into a Christmas season because I recall eating a ton of the tri-popcorn tin my parents got from someone that year.  It was just too much.  Way too much.  I lost a taste for popcorn and didn't have any for years.  The thought, sound and smell of it disgusted me.  I keep hoping something similar happens to me with chocolate, but it's a no-go so far. :)  A few years ago I decided that I would try to renew my taste for popcorn again after buying a cool popcorn maker at a thrift store (it was still in its wrapping).  I've been able to eat it now and then, but I haven't craved it or really desired it since that one season back in college.

The other night I savored some popcorn that a friend of mine made with real popcorn kernels, in a pot, on the stove.  I know, I know.  This is how popcorn "used" to be made, "back in the day", or perhaps there are some people who have just preferred it that way anyway, to the typically used machines or bags in a microwave.  Popcorn was definitely enjoyed the other night-more than it had been in years.  So I decided to try out this "old"-"new" way of making it for myself, and let's just say that I've made it twice in the last 27 hours.  The stuff's good, and it's especially good with the sea salt, over regular table salt. 

So here I sit, enjoying popcorn once again.  (Life has its complications…indulge me one of the simplicities:)