Full disclosure: Some of us in the Mix Kitchen don’t trust microwave popcorn. Sure, the kernels explode into salty puffs of snack nirvana within a couple minutes, but the palate payoff is tantamount to nibbling on a pale, frozen bagel or a couple generic Ho-Hos. Something—well, everything—gets lost in translation. Which means that, while we’re progressive in many ways (e.g., occasionally sipping beer from a glass), we are traditionalists when it comes to popcorn. Our kernels of choice hail from the dweeb who has become an unlikely brand: Orville Redenbacher. The company’s so-called gourmet selection comes in a 30-ounce plastic jar brimming with nuggets grown in the heartland, where the boys and girls are husky and the popping corn is even huskier.
Forget Parmesan Topping. Screw Salt. Give Us the Heavy Stuff.
Popcorn is like Grant Wood’s portrait “American Gothic.” It’s staid, boring and pretty much does what’s expected of it. We devour it by the tubful in movie theaters without once thinking “Is this all there is to this food product?”
Well, we thought about it—and we asked the question, then decided to act. Popcorn needs a heavy. It needs a brother. Yes, a heavy brother: peanut butter.
Hell Yes, We Fried It Up in a Pan
The Redenbacher label bears a thin band of print that reads: “Alternative Popping Instructions.” That’s the Mix Kitchen. We didn’t bother with a hot-air popper (we don’t even own one), so we took our 2-gallon pan, lined its bottom with generous amount of Reese popcorn oil, put the burner’s heat on medium, plopped a lid on the pan, and waited for the magic. And, indeed, it’s like an olfactory amusement park. The scent of searing popcorn oil coupled with sizzling kernels about to detonate is a glorious slice of homespun heaven. (And yes, if you want, you can just nuke some microwavable popcorn for this step, but be sure to turn on some music at least for special effect.)
How Do You Actually Apply Peanut Butter to Popcorn?
Very delicately. While you don’t need the eye and steady hand of a diamond cutter, you should be:
1. Sober (OK, somewhat sober)
2. Patient
3. Only mildly hungry (if you’re famished, the application of peanut butter takes too long, and you could impulsively gnaw off one of your important fingers…just saying)
We used Skippy peanut butter and a spoon to apply the heavy stuff on the puffy corn. Why a spoon? It allows you to dip the popcorn and place it back into a bowl, creating a glop-inspired mound. It’s absolutely gorgeous, sort of a cross between Seuss-like mountains and the Rockies (if you squint).
Peanut Porn is way more G-rated than it sounds.
The palate payoff takes a while (roughly 5 minutes of application time for a 12-ounce bowl of popcorn), but the taste is better than the popcorn-buttery kiss of a girl in a dark movie theater.
Popcorn + Peanut Butter = Peanut Porn
Percentage fed to Marley: 1% (the way he was drooling staring at it, we had to give him something)
