I have a serious obsession with Garrett’s Popcorn.
Blame the convergence of two things: a comment from a friend, and a trend piece dropped in my inbox.
â€˜There is this place in Chicago,â€™ said my friend, â€˜that has the best caramel corn.â€™ And the report said, â€˜Long lines form outside Garrett’s Popcorn Shop for it’s Ã¢â‚¬ËœMix’ of caramel and cheese popcorn.â€™
They had me at cheese.
On my next trip to Chicago, where, thank heavens, we have an office and a Culinary kitchen, I asked around for the nearest Garrett’s. There was one in every direction, so off I went.
There were lines, yes, but they weren’t terrible, and they gave me time to study the menu. Caramel crisp. Cheese. Buttered. Cashew. The famous â€˜Mix.â€™ I bought three bags â€“ one for my friend, the other two for pure gluttony.
It was worth every kernel.
Now, I can find my way there without directions (me, who can barely find my way home without my GPS). I have their Web site bookmarked. My friend has received caramel corn for everything from â€˜just becauseâ€™ to celebrating special occasions â€“ mostly because she’s a great excuse for me to buy myself a bag on the side.
On my most recent visit to Chicago I picked up a bag for my friend, then caught the train for the airport â€“ talking myself out of my own bag while I do a little weight watching. Halfway down the track I thought, â€˜I should be taking some to the office.â€™ After all, several of our team had worked long hours to help get us ready for a big presentation. They had earned a thank you.
I juggled the merits of friend over office family until, as I checked in at the airport, one of the guards pointed at my Garrett’s bag and said, â€˜You didn’t wait in a long line for that, did you? Ã¢â‚¬ËœCause we have two of them here.â€™
Problem solved. Oh, and I went ahead and bought myself a bag. After all, what good is an obsession left unfed?