Popcorn's (and young love's) light and fluffy side

We didn't believe Billie when she claimed to be her county's "Popcorn Queen."

Blame it on our well-honed college skepticism. We'd heard of the Michigan Apple Court, the Wheat Princess and even Alice in Dairy-land. But the county fair Popcorn Queen?

So the five of us sat there in our apartment's living room, two college-age couples and one guy (who Billie had a crush on), staring suspiciously as her, challenging her to prove this outlandish claim.

Sensing our disbelief, Billie started telling the entire history of popcorn and an array of nutritional facts. Well, we thought, she did have a boy's name, something odd for a girl from the Plains, especially since her middle name wasn't Jean.

• • •

Among the potential Trivial Pursuit answers she told us was how a small town in western Iowa - Odebolt - was the "Popcorn Center of the World." George Colton raised the first "crop" of popcorn there in the 1880s. At one time, three popcorn companies, including Cracker Jack, operated in Odebolt, and Iowa grew more than half of the world's supply of popcorn.

"And whoever said that the only good things to ever come out of Iowa were Interstates 80 and 35?" my girlfriend joked (we broke up a few weeks later after a loud fight).

Popcorn quickly became "ingrained" in the American psyche during the 1890s, Billie continued (she actually said "ingrained"). Street vendors sold penny or nickel bags, which despite the low price carried a high profit margin. During the Depression, popcorn sold from carts was one of the few luxuries many American families could afford. With sugar rationing in World War II, popcorn consumption tripled as a confection substitute.

And all through it, Iowa led the way. Her face beamed with pride.

• • •

Billie's attempt to prove she'd been a popcorn queen got us hungry. This was in the day before microwave popcorn had been invented and hot air poppers were just coming into vogue.

So we made popcorn the old-fashioned way: shaking a covered aluminum foil pan over a stove burner. The key was not to rattle it too hard - or the bottom wouldn't receive enough heat - yet to go fast enough so that the kernels didn't stick and burn. It was the Rubik's Cube of cooking in its day.

But once the kernels burst, a sweet aroma filled the kitchen. Even if you'd just eaten a five-course meal a few minutes before, your hand couldn't help but scoop up a mouthful.

Perhaps the best aspect of stove-popped popcorn has little to do with its taste but with curling up on the couch next to a loved one on a crisp autumn night, a bowl of buttery popcorn upon your laps. The bowl brought you together, and when the popcorn was gone, there really was no reason to part.

• • •

But popcorn almost didn't make it into our living rooms, Billie told us.

When television came along in the early 1950s, no one thought that popcorn would taste as good in prime time as with a big movie screen. Perhaps it was because making out in front of the kids was a no-no.

Thankfully, large American corporations saved the day.

The national Popcorn Institute, a trade association of popcorn processors, in partnership with Coca-Cola and Morton Salt, started a public awareness campaign (or at least that's what Billie called it) to show American consumers the true way.

These days, each Ameri-can eats an average of 68 quarts of popcorn annually.

• • •

Billie's vast knowledge of this field soon had us convinced she'd once been the Popcorn Queen.

It wasn't too unbelievable, after all. Popcorn likely was planted, raised and harvested like seed corn. Iowa seemed like a natural place to do this.

Most likely a few counties somewhere celebrated this heritage. The Turks wrestle camels, the English roll cheese down hills and the Spaniards hold tomato fights - why wouldn't Iowans elect a teenage girl as Popcorn Queen?

But then my smarty-pants girlfriend challenged Billie to explain how popcorn pops.

• • •

Billie's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, and I swear the room got darker. It probably was just a cloud passing over the autumn moon, but the effect at that moment still was powerful.

Some American Indian tribes, she said, believed spirits live inside each kernel. Generally, the spirits remained content to live apart from all others, but they angered if their houses were heated. And the hotter their homes became, the madder they got.

Eventually, they'd burst out of their kernels. You can see them leaving as an aggravated puff of steam.

I grinned. My girlfriend rolled her eyes. John and Sandy - the other couple with us - smiled and snuggled closer (they married right after graduation and had three kids).

The guy Billie had a crush on only shook his head. I think he and my girlfriend dated for a while after we broke up. But such is young romance, zinging and arcing from person to person, sometimes sugary, sometimes salty.

• • •

The other night while enjoying a bowl of popcorn, I thought of those stories Billie had told us about being crowned her county's queen, and wondered again if she'd really been telling the truth.

So I went online to find the answer.

It turns out a lot of towns across the Corn Belt have Popcorn Days, which along with the requisite parade of floats, slow pitch softball tournament and tractor pull, includes a coronation of the Popcorn Queen.

Most sites include a picture of this young woman wearing a tiara and waving at the elbow. Every one of their faces beams with pride.

(originally published Aug. 10, 2003)