There’s nothing more disappointing than popcorn that won’t pop.

Well actually, flopped cakes, a rained-out wedding, a lie-to-your-face child, receiving an order of expensive shoes that don’t fit, planning a Netflix night only to have the internet go out, putting sour half-and-half into your coffee, etc, etc, probably all qualify as more disappointing. All things considered, non-poppy popcorn is rather minor. Still, in the moment it can feel rather crushing. 

Because we buy our popcorn by the truckload (practically), we were rather miffed when, a couple months into a fresh sack, we started making dud-corn instead of popcorn. We figured the seller stored the popcorn in a damp place. Or maybe he never dried it properly in the first place?

After stewing a bit, my husband hopped on the Internet to research the problem.

And guess what! The reason is the exact opposite of what we both thought. Popcorn doesn’t pop, not because it’s too wet, but because it’s too dry. The popcorn’s pop is caused by moisture inside the kernel heating up and creating steam. When there’s not enough moisture, there’s not a good pop.

The solution, we were delighted to discover, was easy. We put the dud-corn in a jar, added a bit of water, let it sit for a day or so to absorb the moisture, and voila, the freshest, poppy-est popcorn you could ever wish for!

How To Rejuvenate Popcorn Kernels

1. Put the not-doing-their-thing popcorn kernels in a jar.

2. For every cup of kernels, add one teaspoon of water.

3. Lid the jar, shake well, and let sit for 1-3 days. (It’s advised to let the kernels sit for three days, but we waited just one and they were perfect.)

For a longer shelf life, store the rejuvenated popcorn in the freezer. (But if, like me, your popcorn never quite makes it into the freezer, no worries. You now know the remedy.)

This same time, years previous: the greening, an evening walk, the things that go on around here, new territory: grief, and cream of tomato soup.

It is raining outside right now. The grass is turning brilliantly emerald green, the trees are starting to blossom, and there are some daffodils on the table that the kids have picked. I look out the back door and I see one of our sheep chasing the chickens around in the field. I see birds again. In the sky there is heavy gray fog that makes me think of a massive comforter being thrown down on the world.

I feel warm and cozy inside my house, sitting on the couch under a blanket while spilling my guts for a story like this one. I look behind myself, out the window, and see a tree getting covered in moss. I feel a massive bubble of joy in my body, a turbulence, a tornado, a twisting, laughing voice saying it is spring. I want to leap and shout for joy. SPRING IS HERE!!

Summer awaits me. A whole life is calling my name. I feel the urge to move, escape, run free of this house. See the world. See the world. I want to see the world. I want to roam until the dust, water, and air of the four corners of the world are in my skin, my eyes, and my hair.

This same time, years previous: oatmeal raisin cookies, answers, the quotidian (4.9.12), asparagus with lemon and butter, and the kind of day.  

If you’re anything like me, you occasionally buy unusual ingredients for a specific recipe, use what you need, and then shove the remainder of the bag into the freezer where it rattles around till kingdom come. (Confession: my freezers are a mess.) But sometimes bad habits pay off! For instance, these millet muffins.

I discovered the recipe on Ruth Reichl’s blog and immediately noted that it called for three-quarters cup of millet. Just one batch of muffins would make a serious dent on my millet stash! So I rummaged up my ancient bag of millet and whipped those muffins up.

And they were good! Kind of like corn muffins, a friend suggested, but—and this is the best part—with grains that crackle and pop between your teeth.

Ruth calls for partially crushing the millet in the blender, but I found that the cooled muffins had a mildly unpleasant sandy texture. So I made them again, this time with the millet intact (and with some whole wheat). The resulting muffins were better: fluffier and even more delightfully crackly.
 

I’ve taken to eating two each morning: the first one with coffee and the second one a couple hours later with a giant mug of tea.

Millet Muffins 
Adapted from Ruth Reichl’s blog.

1 egg
¾ cup brown sugar
1/3 cup butter, melted
1 cup flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¾ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup sour milk or buttermilk
¾ cup millet

Cream together the egg and sugar. Beat in the melted butter.

In a separate bowl, combine the flours, baking powder and baking soda, and salt.

Briefly stir the dry ingredients into the creamed butter mixture. Stir in the sour milk and then the millet.

Promptly (if you let the batter sit, the millet will lose its crunch) divide the batter between 12 muffin tins and bake the muffins at 375 degrees for 20 minutes or until golden brown and firm to the touch. Serve warm. Leftover muffins freeze well.

This same time, years previous: this slow, wet day, Easter 2010, and homemade Parmesan.