This is one of my most epic childhood memory.
It was a day like this, a cloudy sort of rainy day when Joanna and I decided to have a cartoon marathon. We hurriedly sneaked out to buy our drinks (a 20 peso Flintstone’s punch a buy-one-take-one deal) on the convenience store near our home.
We were particularly fond of the prehistoric punch, limestone lemonade and bedrock berry flavors.
Since we don’t have enough money at that time to buy us snacks we decided to make our own popcorn.
We really felt that it was one awesomely genius idea at that time.
First we searched for the popcorn kernels and opened the stove, placed a wok (yes, a wok!) with some cooking oil and placed the kernels there and covered the whole thing. Pop goes the first kernel.
Our plan is working!
More kernels popped. But we were to chicken to actually open the cover, we decided that it is best to wait till there is no more popping sound.
Grey smoke started to rise up from the wok! Then it turned black. We scrambled to look for the pot holders and opened the whole thing up.
Black angry puffs of smoke greeted us. The popcorn was burnt and some of it was on fire!
We turned off the stove and put on a brave front by wearing the potholders and planning to lift the whole thing up to the sink to douse the smoky mess with water.
*To add to our disaster, my nanny is sleeping. My little brother is also asleep. We were screwed big time.
We never got the mess to the sink.
It landed on the kitchen floor with a loud bang, spewing its sorry fiery contents in the white tiles. Joanna and I looked at each other and screamed! By this time, the smoke from the kitchen was a fluffy thick black consistency, spilling out to the common outdoor area we share with the neighbors. Within a few seconds the neighbors are banging at the door, with shouts that they call the fire station.
My nanny was now awake and very furious. She quickly got a blanket doused in water and proceeded to blanket the mess. Ran to open the door and tell the neighbors, we got everything under control, and that she was sorry for the inconvenience.
No more popcorn. A possible week of no allowance, a reprimand and maybe a “time out” from friends is looming ahead when the parents got home. We drank our Flintstones drink in miserable silence.
Thankfully, my nanny let it pass. It never got to the parents.
Till now, Joanna and I still laugh about the burnt popcorn. Our parents never knew this popcorn incident that almost burned the house down.
We blame it all on the popcorn. We call it “baog na popcorn”.
(baog is the Filipino term for sterile, so it means sterile popcorn).