What is your favorite snack in your college dorm? In ours, it’s definitely Sea Salt PopCorners.
It exists in so many different forms in the common room. After grocery shopping, you will see a bunch of them leaning against each other on the top of the refrigerator. Sometimes, when four of us sit around the table and our computers form a perfect square, the green plastic wrapping will sit straight at the center of it. Hands reach for it occasionally for help against midnight hunger, and the green little thing eventually becomes too weak, failing to stay straight on the table.
And the cruel people would make it sit up again, putting their hands in for more and more.
It is so addictive—the tastelessness at the beginning gradually turns to the aroma of corn, diffusing in the mouth. It is crunchy but not delicate, tasty but not greasy, salty but not pungent. It never feels abrupt, like a beautiful box of macarons sitting gently, which somehow keeps people from touching it. With its plainness like water, it flows in our life naturally. Facing those bumpy and dry little triangles, we never hesitate. We love it so much that it feels valuable, but there is never a sense of loss when a pack is finished.
We even have a photo album to collect pictures of every empty bag. We proudly show it to everyone who comes over, and open a new package for our guests. We pass that around until a new record has been broken—the total empty package number reaches 19 instead of 18. It makes relationships so approachable. We take one PopCorner from this bag and pass it around, creating a simple ritual that breeds the urge to connect.
Maybe it started with only one of us, or it could be some of us, but in the end we all love it. I do not even remember how this started—maybe it was one of those nights when we cuddled on the chairs around the kitchen table, one person asking for some snacks, and it was excitingly introduced.
But I could never forget the Saturday night when a group of friends sat around the small end table in the living room, the string light gently omitting orange light on the wall, Taylor Swift’s country music videos projecting on the walls under the dim light. We were playing card games—some leaned back on the sofa, some comfortably sat cross-legged, some leaned forward, concentrating, and some laughed and clapped their hands.
One round came to an end, and we opened a package of PopCorners and passed it around. One of us took one piece of the chip out and said,
“You know what, appreciate its name. It tastes like popcorn and it has corners. PopCorners! So cute.”
He stared at it, “It has 4 corners.”
“Nah…It has 3 corners—this is a broken one.”
But it does not actually matter how many corners it has, honestly, with all the warmth flowing in the air at 2:00 am.
Because when you bite one corner, two new ones would emerge.
The more the better.
Cover Photo Courtesy of: https://snackswithkat.com/pop-corners-chips-review/