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Popcorn Snacks — The Simple Thing You Don’t Throw Away

March. Two years since Hana was conceived. One year since maternity leave. Fourteen months since Hana was born. Six weeks until Jisoo arrives. Everything is measured in countdowns now — countdown to Jisoo's visit, countdown to spring, countdown to the day the maple tree in the backyard leafs out and Hana sees green leaves for the first time in her conscious memory (she saw them last spring but she was five months old and memory is generous but not infinite).

Hana is fifteen months old and she is running. Not walking. Running. She runs through the house with the wooden spoon — still the wooden spoon, always the wooden spoon — and she runs into the kitchen and she runs to the back door and she runs to me and she runs away from me and the running is delightful and exhausting and I am chasing a toddler through a four-bedroom Craftsman and I am thirty-one and I am not as fast as a fifteen-month-old and this is the great humbling of parenthood: your child will outrun you, physically and eventually in every other way, and the outrunning is the point.

I enrolled Hana in a Korean language playgroup — a small group in Wallingford, six toddlers, run by a Korean-American mother who does storytime and songs and snacks in Korean. Hana's Korean vocabulary is expanding: she says bap (rice), mul (water), halmoni (grandmother), and now — as of Thursday — gomawo (thank you). She said gomawo to the playgroup teacher after receiving a rice cracker. She said it with perfect pronunciation. I texted Jisoo the video. Jisoo called me immediately. She said, "Her Korean is beautiful." She said, "You are teaching her." I said, "The playgroup is teaching her." She said, "You enrolled her in the playgroup. The enrolling is the teaching." She is right. The intention is the teaching. I intended for Hana to speak Korean. I found the playgroup. The playgroup teaches. The chain of intention is the chain of culture. The culture continues because someone decided it would continue. That someone is me.

The recipe this week is a Korean rice cracker snack — nurungji, the crispy rice crust that forms at the bottom of the pot when you cook rice traditionally. Not in a rice cooker — in a heavy-bottomed pot, the old way. Cook the rice. Eat the rice. Leave the crust. Add water to the pot. Simmer until the water becomes a thin porridge. The crust softens slightly. Scoop it out. Eat the nurungji — crispy, toasted, slightly burnt, deeply satisfying. Or: dry the crust. Break it into pieces. Deep-fry until puffed and golden. Sprinkle with sugar or salt. This is the Korean rice cracker. This is the snack Jisoo ate as a child. This is the snack Hana will eat. The crispy bottom of the pot. The part you don't throw away. The part that becomes, with attention, the best part.

The playgroup serves rice crackers, and I’ve been thinking about nurungji ever since — but on a Tuesday afternoon with Hana running laps and Jisoo’s visit still six weeks away, I needed something I could make fast, share easily, and eat with one hand while chasing a toddler with the other. This popcorn snack has that same quality I love about nurungji: it’s the humble thing, the simple thing, transformed by a little attention into something you can’t stop eating. Hana approved. She said gomawo to the bowl.

Popcorn Snacks

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup unpopped popcorn kernels
  • 3 tablespoons coconut oil or neutral oil, divided
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
  • 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional, for a gentle kick)

Instructions

  1. Pop the corn. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add 3 test kernels and cover. When they pop, add the remaining kernels in a single layer. Cover and shake the pot gently every 30 seconds until popping slows to about 2 seconds between pops. Remove from heat immediately and transfer popcorn to a large bowl, discarding any unpopped kernels.
  2. Make the coating. In the same pot over medium heat, melt the butter with the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil. Add the brown sugar and stir constantly until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is smooth and slightly bubbling, about 2–3 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the salt, vanilla, and cayenne if using.
  3. Coat the popcorn. Pour the warm coating over the popcorn in the bowl. Toss quickly and thoroughly with a silicone spatula or two large spoons until every kernel is coated. Work fast — the coating sets as it cools.
  4. Cool and crisp. Spread the coated popcorn in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Let it cool for 5 minutes until the coating sets and crisps. Break apart any clumps with your fingers.
  5. Serve. Transfer to a large bowl and serve immediately, or store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 2 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 195mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 467 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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