Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend

I am not great at goodbyes, and the time has come for me to say goodbye to an old friend. Not an actual friend, but a kitchen friend, a friend that’s been with me for many years, a friend I’ve written about before. It is my old, well used, and well loved Brookstone Theater Popcorn Popper. A few weeks ago (maybe more…) after popping some popcorn I dropped it on the floor. It is made of thin aluminum, which is what makes it get very hot, very fast, and pop that corn like crazy, but it also means that when I dropped  it, it changed shape enough so that the lid no longer stays in place. I can’t use it anymore, but I can’t seem to throw it out either.

My old, now busted  popcorn popper has been sitting on my counter since its fatal fall, and not only have I been unable to throw it away, I have been unable to think about replacing it. It feels disloyal, and heartless. It feels overly extravagant, and sad. I bought the popper at a church bazaar about twenty-ish years ago for $.75. My mom and I were driving around in the Berkshires where she and my dad lived, and when we saw the sign for the bazaar we decided to stop and do some shopping. The popcorn popper was a real find; it was in its original box, the directions still there, and it looked unused.

When I got my popcorn popper microwave popcorn had been around for a while, but I had grown up on Jiffy Pop, and popcorn made on the stove in a pot with a little oil. Because I didn’t own a microwave oven I was still making popcorn in a Revere Ware pot and prided myself on my ability to never burn it. Once I got this crank popper I never looked back. In fact I have given this type of popper as a gift many times. It is a simple contraption. There is a slender shaft that comes from the center of the lid, and in this picture you can see the gears that as you turn the handle, turn the shaft, at the bottom of which are two arms that move the popcorn around. If you  pull it from the heat when you hear the corn stop popping you will find all the kernels have popped, and none have burned, which is very satisfying.

A new one won’t be very expensive, they cost around $20, but that’s not what is holding me back. It is a combination of sentiment and I’m not sure what else… Generally I love new things, and often find excuses to get them. And yet, the idea of a new popcorn popper seems sad, no matter how bright and shiny they look. I’m not sure how this story will end. For the moment, I can make popcorn like I used to, in a covered pot, but lately I haven’t even felt like doing that. I imagine that by the fall— which for me feels like a time for new beginnings, I’ll have made peace with replacing my trusty, old friend, and I can take it off my counter, and finally say goodbye.