My favorite new Spanish word: Palomitero

I suppose that everyone, when they go live abroad, has his or her non-negotiables, the things from home that you just cannot live without.  I certainly have them.  They are cold cereal, and pizza.  As my mother will attest, I adore cold cereal, especially the sugary kind.  Captain Crunch is my favorite.  Thanks to the wonders of globalization, I can count on getting cold cereal just about anywhere I go.  No matter what the continent, what the language, Tony the Tiger will be waiting for me there (although, sadly, not the Captain).  The name may change.  Frosted Flakes are known as Zucaritas in much of Latin America, and as Frosties here in Spain, but the sweet, crunchy goodness within is always the same.  Just add cold milk and crunch away.

Pizza presents even fewer difficulties, thanks to its Italian origins. Pizza places abound in Madrid, and it just so happens that a truly excellent one is down the street from us, not even a block.  Nice crispy crust.  Excellent sauce.  A selection of toppings, including a four-cheese pizza that is to die for.  So, I figure I'm set.

Santiago has at least one non-negotiable, peanut butter.  Not thinking to bring this from home, we ended up paying through the nose for a jar of Capitán Maní at the grocery store of El Corte Inglés.  More about this store in a little while.  Capitán Maní has been the subject of some invective in the Spanish blogosphere, where some have identified it as yet another piece of disgusting yanqui imperialism, and others have simply identified it as a disgusting sandwich spread. One blogger said he had to try it, because he'd seen it in so many American movies, but found it overpowering and sickly sweet.  Maybe he should have added tuna.  Or jarred sausages.

But I digress.  Zoë has her non-negotiables as well.  In fact, she informed me early in August that these were ice cream and popcorn.  Ice cream posed few worries, largely because Zoë likes both American-style ice cream and gelato.  True to our expectations, we have found excellent ice cream throughout Spain, although special kudos must be given to the helados artesanales (home-made ice cream) that was available all over the place in Cádiz.  AND, should one day the gelato not do the trick, there is a Ben & Jerry's right off the Puerta del Sol.  There's that good ole yanqui imperialism again, making sure that we can raise our blood-sugar and cholesterol levels in comfortably familiar ways, no matter where we go.

The real issue, as some of you already know, was the popcorn.  You see, a few decades ago, Europeans did not even eat corn.  They considered it animal feed, and laughed at Americans for eating it.  Now that has clearly changed, and corn (from a can) has even appeared on the bizarre vegetable plates that we have had the misfortune of ordering with our tapas.  But popcorn?  We were afraid that it would be something like peanut butter or cranberry sauce, something so horribly American as to be entirely unavailable.  I did not want Zoë to go without her favorite snack – I cannot overestimate how much my beloved wife loves the stuff – so I suggested we do what we could to make sure she could have it while in Spain.

The first step was to do research on the internet, and to ask some of the few friends that we were not too embarrassed to approach with this concern.  It soon became clear that Spaniards do indeed eat and enjoy popcorn (although some seem to worry about the fact that it might be fattening), but it was unclear if hot-air popcorn poppers were readily available in Spain.  Enter El Corte Inglés.  Those of you who are familiar with this Spanish hypermart know that you can buy just about everything there, although rarely at the best price.  Cameras.  Clothing.  Plane tickets.  Groceries.  Consumer electronics.  Comic collectibles.  Hardware.  So, I figured we could look on their website for a hot-air popcorn popper, and if they had one, then we knew one would be available there or elsewhere.

The trouble is, how does one say "hot-air popcorn popper" in Spanish?  Or, for that matter, "popcorn"?  I should know, since popcorn is eaten in Ecuador, where it's often used as a garnish on ceviche.  But what did we call "popcorn" in my house growing up?  We called it "popcorn" (with a Spanish accent).  "Rosetas" was one possibility, but my friends agreed that "palomitas" was probably more common in Spain.  No one had any idea about "hot-air popcorn popper."  So I searched www.elcorteingles.es for "palomitas" thinking that the description of the popper was certain to mention "popcorn."  I got only one hit.  This thing.   A TOY popcorn maker.  Horror of horrors!!!  IT was clearly impossible to buy a hot-air popcorn popper in Spain!!!!

Our electrical transformer

There was only one solution possible.  We would have to buy an Orville Redenbacher hot-air popcorn popper and ship it to our apartment in Spain, no matter what the cost.  We would also have to ship various jars of popcorn as well, no matter what the cost.  This we did, at great expense.  Upon arrival in Spain, we bought an electrical transformer, a device that would allow us to use our US popcorn popper with European electrical current.  The one we found was manufactured during the Franco era, but was available, conveniently, at a local store.  Again, at great expense.

The moment of truth had arrived.  I would prepare Zoë a delicious bowl of popcorn.  For some odd reason, Zoë likes the popcorn I prepare best.  I'm completely indifferent to the stuff, but I seem to have an uncanny knack for getting the balance of butter and salt just to her liking.  Hers and the Kid's, by the way.  I hooked up the transformer to the socket, and the popper to the transformer.  Immediately I heard the satisfying whirr of the popcorn maker, and soon the pop pop pop of the kernels exploding into magical white fluffiness, and pouring from the spout of the popcorn maker.  Then I smelled it.  Was the popcorn burning?  No.  It was the transformer.  Smoke was streaming up from it, and the stench of burning electrical parts filled the room.  Oh, my god, the thing was gonna blow!!!  Our Spanish adventure was going to end promptly and badly in a fiery maelstrom of home electronics shrapnel and unpopped kernels!! I snatched the plug out of the socket before the thing could blow us all sky high, melted some butter and served Zoë a disappointing half-bowl of chewy popcorn.

A few days later, Zoë was doing some shopping at www.carrefour.es, which allows you to order your groceries online and have them delivered to your home, and – LO AND BEHOLD!! – what did she stumble across?   A palomitero.  Yes, my dear readers, a hot-air popcorn popper, of European manufacture.  It arrived in our house two days later.

Our palomitero

Last night, we settled into the sofa, put Airplane on the DVD player (because it's always good to introduce your children to the classics) and munched on perfectly buttered-and-salted popcorn made in our European-manufactured palomitero purchased right here in Madrid.  The popcorn, Zoë and Santiago noted, was a bit chewy, but it was good.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, El Corte Inglés does indeed sell a palomitero.  And the ad even mentions "palomitas," and how you can enjoy a delicious "bol" of "palomitas" while you sit and watch movies.  No duh!!!!!!  And it looks like it's better than the one we bought.