In a cozy house in a small village, Eloy always eagerly awaits the arrival of his grandchildren. Every night, around a crackling fireplace and with a mischievous smile, he begins:
—Did you know that when I was young, I traveled to the Song Empire, where I taught mathematicians to count using noodles? But that’s not the story I wanted to tell you today.
Today, my dear amici, I want to tell you about a particularly hilarious episode that took place in a little workshop belonging to an alchemist who had more spark than a firecracker in a tempesta.
It was a tiny place, stuffed with bubbling jars, dusty books, and a mix of smells that honestly made it seem like someone had cooked a pizza di spazzatura. In this workshop worked a certain Giovanni, a man with long white beards who, in his defense, looked more like a tangled ball of wool than a scientist. His gaze was that of someone who had tried everything, but until now, had only managed to make his lab look like an antique store that had sold its anima to a dragon.
One day, while we were going through some old alchemy recipes, an idea popped into my head that made me leap off the bench as if I had found a moneta on the floor.
—Giovanni —I said excitedly—, what if we could turn lead into... popcorn?
Giovanni looked at me with an expression that oscillated between disbelief and admiration, as if I had found a piece of oro among a pile of stones.
—Excuse me? —he replied, raising an eyebrow, a gesture that had become his favorito when hearing my crazy ideas—. Popcorn? ¡Ma che stai dicendo! That doesn’t make sense, amico.
—Of course, it makes sense! —I responded, filled with entusiasmo—. Imagine the nobles of the city enjoying a delicious snack instead of those boring banquets filled with oro. We will be famous!
And so, I found myself swept into this alchemical madness. While the other alchemists in the city were obsessed with gold, Giovanni and I dove into the realm of corn and follia.
The first step of the experiment was, of course, to heat the lead until it shone like an artificial sole, which was easy if you didn’t mind turning the workshop into some kind of sauna metallica. As the lead melted, we began mixing it with... well, almost everything we found at hand: a bit of salt, a handful of spezie, and of course, corn kernels. Why not?
I felt like a chef matto in a cooking competition who had lost all sense of reality. Giovanni, on his part, was in paradiso. Every time I tossed him a new ingredient, he received it with the excitement of a bambino who has just discovered he has won the lottery.
—More salt! —he shouted—. More spices! Let’s make it esplodere! Voglio che queste palomitas siano le migliori del mondo!
And of course, I thought, who needs precauzioni when you have such a big dream? So we kept mixing and shaking everything until finally, the moment arrived. The lead, which was now more liquid than gossip in a café, was ready to become the famous treat.
—On the count of three! —I shouted, with enthusiasm rivaling that of a bambino on his birthday—. One, two, and... three!
With a dramatic motion, we poured the lead over the corn kernels. At that exact moment, there was an esplosione. But not just any explosion, no, no, no. It was more like a spettacolo di fuochi d’artificio than an experiment! The corn flew through the air as if it had been given ali, and the room filled with a cloud of steam that smelled like a festival d’estate.
—We did it! —I shouted, shielding my face, trying to figure out if we had actually made popcorn or if I had caused a disastro in some king’s kitchen.
In the end, amidst risate and clouds of steam, we discovered that indeed, we had created something. What we weren’t sure about was whether it was oro, lead, or just a new type of snack that would never see the light of day. But what was clear was that we had made... popcorn.
After the explosion, the room was a true caos. The jars moved as if they had a life of their own, and the floor was covered in corn kernels, lead, and a mix of ingredients that I would never use in the cucina again. Giovanni, with his contagious laughter, began to gather the popcorn that had fallen everywhere.
—Look at this! —he said, lifting a handful that still shimmered as if it had a touch of magia—. These are palomitas rinascimentali, bellissimo!
And so, in the midst of the disastro, we decided to celebrate. We sat on the floor among the debris of the workshop, filled with lead, laughter, and, of course, popcorn! Each bite was a mix of flavors we had never imagined. They had the crunch of success, the sweetness of follia, and a hint of... lead.
—You know what? —Giovanni said, while chewing—. Maybe it’s not gold, but this popcorn is, without a doubt, a vero tesoro! Perfetto!
And so, amidst popcorn and madness, we spent the afternoon. Of course, the news of the Renaissance popcorn quickly spread like wildfire through the streets. Soon, the nobles of the city, drawn by the fame of the most absurd alchemy ever told, came to our little workshop, believing we had discovered a nuova delizia.
The nobles, with their elegant outfits and airs of grandeur, were astounded to see the spettacolo of laughter and popcorn that had formed. They thought we were performing a ritual magico, and in an instant, the little workshop turned into a social event.
—What is this? —asked one of the nobles, with a look of wonder that could have been used to sell anything, from perfumes to... well, lead.
—They are palomitas rinascimentali —I replied, puffing out my chest like a pavone that just won a beauty contest—. ¡Il snack del futuro!
And of course, the nobles, who thought they were very sofisticati, began to eat popcorn, trying to hide their entusiasmo. One of them, with a contagious laugh, began proposing new combinations: popcorn with honey, popcorn with spezie, even popcorn with a touch of... oro!
Suddenly, we found ourselves in the midst of a frenesia. The popcorn became the most requested dish at banquets, parties, and celebrations. Giovanni and I became the most famous alchemists in the city, acclaimed for our culinary innovazioni. No one cared about the lead; what they really wanted was the crunch of the popcorn and the laughter unleashed with every bite.
Over time, the fame of the Renaissance popcorn faded like the smoke from a campfire, and the nobles soon returned to their vecchie abitudini. Giovanni and I, although we didn’t discover the secret to turning lead into gold, had found something much more importante: a true delicacy, an unforgettable memory, and a whole lot of risate.
And so, dear amici, this story comes to an end. Now, off to bed! Tomorrow I’ll tell you how I convinced the Persians to use lava lamps in their hanging gardens. Good night and sweet dreams!