Not the microwaveable kind.
In the circles in which popped corn runs, comparing microwaveable packaging material in a bag to popcorn is directly akin to comparing a Hungry Man TV dinner containing a brownish piece of cardboard (cleverly marketed as a Salisbury steak), to the Filet Mignon at the Stinking Rose, downtown San Francisco (best piece of dead animal I have ever eaten, hands down). In days of yore, it’d be like telling the Pope that the world moves ’round the sun, or the Emperor that he’s not wearing any clothes — it just shouldn’t be done.
And, by the way, if you’ve never seen me eat popcorn while using a computer, you’re missing out. See, I’m a big stickler about getting oils on my keyboard, and I mean big in the gargantuan kind of way that would make the Great Pyramids look like arrowheads half buried in a sandbox. So, instead, I eat it with my tongue. Yup, you read that right — I hold my bowl up to my face, and stick my tongue in there like an aardvark wriggles out his long strip of double-sided Scotch tape and sucks up ants, only I’m sucking in popcorn. Works like a champ.
Anyways, I was whipping up popcorn tonight and realized that some people could miss out on the delicacy that is popcorn made on a stove. So I decided to share my recipe, which I got from my parents, who probably got it from no-one, because way back when my parents were little, everyone sat around knitting their own sweaters, making their own shoes, and popping their own popcorn, so it was just common knowledge.
It’s not even that hard. First, find a pan with a lid. Pour a little bit of vegetable oil on the bottom (cover most of it, but not all), then put in the corn. Turn on the burner, shake the pan every now and then, and wait for it to stop making noise. After emptying into a bowl, you can use the same pan to melt butter — but (this is the important part!) make sure it’s butter, not some byproduct of synthetic tires; that stuff just makes it soggy.
Season to taste with salt.
Seriously, this stuff rocks.