Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I went to the movies a lot, often alone, and I’d see pretty much anything, because the golden-salty greatness that is movie theater popcorn makes seeing almost anything worthwhile. I’d order the large size (only a dollar more — they’re practically paying you to get it!), eat until my mouth hurt, then put the rest in a plastic bag to take home. Yes, I brought a plastic bag to the theater expressly for this purpose. And over the course of a dozen pre-COVID-19 Dinner at a Movie reviews, it was my total pleasure to learn more about the nuances of movie popcorn from Seattle Times film (and book, and popcorn) critic Moira Macdonald. I miss the movies and I miss Moira — but I can still see both of them, if only on a home screen. I’ve probably missed movie popcorn an inordinate amount over the last 17 years, I mean, 10 months.
But enough about me — it is a special irritant of articles such as this, promising The Best-Ever Pandemic-Times Life Hack, that a lengthy first-person preamble usually must be endured. Let’s also truncate the parts that explain the genesis of the idea (pathological jealousy of friends’ new in-home theater-grade popcorn maker, unwillingness to purchase one), the science of popcorn (hey, there’s water in there!), and all the permutations/hardships of the development of the recipe (so many different kinds of oil! So many batches!! I’ve been so thirsty lately!!!).
Really, all credit here is due to the miracle of modern(ish) food science, specifically the proprietary process that brings us all Flavacol. This violently orange powder — it is the exact color of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese dust — is made of salt, artificial flavor, two shades of FD&C Yellow and magic. It comes in a charmingly vintage-design quart-sized milk carton (unless you want to order, say, a 45-pound pail) from Gold Medal Products Co., out of Cincinnati (slogan: “Snacks, Smiles & Success!”). Heather Gims, senior communication specialist there, says Flavacol’s been around since the 1960s (hence the packaging aesthetic). The company assures that nearly all the major movie chains use it, furthermore claiming that more popcorn is popped with Flavacol than any other seasoning salt worldwide — that is, the entire known popcorn-popping universe. Flavacol is as bad for you as regular salt but worse, as it doesn’t even contain iodine, regular salt’s redeeming nutritional feature; it is, however, vegan and gluten-free (as salt tends to be), as well as kosher and halal certified. Gims, laughing a bit, politely declined to give any details about Flavacol’s proprietary process and artificial flavor. However, she was very nice, and Gold Medal is third-generation family-owned, so there’s that.
The popping medium here is a soybean oil concoction that, like Flavacol, is recommended by the manufacturer of my friends’ fancy new popcorn machine, and it is better than the numerous oils I tested that were artificial-butter-flavor-free. Movie-theater-style popcorn is science. Science also gives us vaccines. Thank you, science.
