Ode to the Coconut

I hated being called the “P” word. Picky. The word that moms throughout history would silently mouth to the entire table every time company joined us for dinner and warn every server while they patiently waited for orders.

To me the “P” word should only be used to describe junior Karen-in-trainings who refused to sample simply out of stubbornness and an innate desire to be willful. Picky is an honorific reserved for the most elite contrarians who wore their restricted palettes and squinched noses as a badge of nobility. A simple power move which had little to do with actually disliking something and done for no legitimate reason but simply because they could.

For that reason, I am not, and should never be considered picky. I have a reason. A very, very good one. Young me had been betrayed by chocolate cake. In a vow created out of bitterness that would rival most dark chocolates, I lived by one rule: I will try one bite once, but that is it. If it goes into the “No” bucket nothing will get it out...nothing. I tried new things, just with caution.

My binary bucketing system didn't just apply to the item as a whole. It also isolated, identified, and blacklisted individual offending ingredients. The banned ingredient, no matter what other form, variation or combination, would all be relegated to the “Nada/Never/Nope/No Way in H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks” bucket until the end of time. After one bite of bad, breaded fish sticks, and all fish was off the table no matter how fresh, buttery or palatable. So many things were lost due to just a bad version of a good food, especially since I grew up in a time and place which idolized microwaved TV dinners.

The notorious ingredient causing this elaborate system of taste management and palate protection...coconut. Oh...how you snuck in, so innocently on a piece of chocolate cake. Mind you, chocolate cake had been a personal favorite which I shared so many fond memories and gleeful moments of bowel licking delight. How I would just let your frosted goodness smear over my lips and cheeks as I would precariously fit the over-sized wooden spoon in my mouth. It was all gone with one bite of dry German chocolate cake, shreds of desiccated flakes hidden in frosting and a few tablespoons of imitation flavoring from a brown bottle with an aged label proving it only got pulled from the back of the cupboard once a year. Instantaneously, all coconut was lost in a black hole. I mean really, desiccated...they should just have called it what it was mummified, burnt coconut shavings.

Growing up, I coped as best as I could. I had strategy on my side. Typically when my family traveled I had to fortify and enhance my food security system. Unfamiliar flavors, incomplete menu descriptions, unorthodox preparation methods, and limited choices. Typically, I had to survey, FAQ check, interrogate and double down on my trusted gate keeping systems. On a trip to internal waters, thirteen year old me was ready to take on my biggest challenge yet: Tropical Thunder, a Combat of all things Coconut.

Island life celebrated everything coconut. It’s refreshing, life sustaining water, flavorful rich meat, and its multi-purpose husk. I had to be on red alert. I called it strategic, mom called it fastidious. I questioned, sniffed, lightly inspected with a few finger pokes. However despite my best efforts, my mom was just better at psychological warfare...I mean parenting. Dazed from sunshine and sweat, steel drumming taking over my thoughts. Island life slowly weakened my food fortress. Without a question and on the brink of dehydration, I willingly downed a cup of what my mom simply called “pineapple punch.”

It was refreshing, light, and with a hint of this unknown but somehow familiar, jazzy flavor. Every sip a deja vu, with the core memory drifting further away with each gulp. Stray cherries and umbrellas floated around on crushed ice like flotsam and jetsam. Oh, I loved this fruity, refreshing concoction, as if it were pure sunshine in a cup.

Three days into this fruity love affair, I was out and needed a refill. No mom in sight to facilitate, I went to order my own. No biggie. I had this. I was a teenager. When I ordered my “pineapple punch” all I got was a confused look from the server who politely redirected me to the laminated menu. The server pointed suggestively to the Virgin Piña Colada. As I read the description, I came upon a word and got no further… “coconut milk”.

My brain did not know how to reconcile this new information. Stunned, I nodded. I took my drink back to a sun chair parked in the shade. I needed to process this existential crisis now that my algorithm was been broken beyond repair.

Between deep sips, I had to reconsider all of my options. “So do I like all coconut now? Maybe I can like some coconut? You mean, all coconut things don't taste like the bite I had? The milks, water, oils, freshly shaved chips over fruit, ice creams would all taste different?!?”

My brain almost broke when I thought of the total sum of the consequences of this mini enlightenment. Like mini brain fireworks: “What if it's not just coconut? Does this apply to all other tropical fruits? All fruits? Vegetables? How far does this go...all foods? Preparation methods? Brands?”

By the time I dredged the last drops from my straw, the evidence was just too great. I knew that things would forever be changed. “Will a three strikes and you're out method work? Do I actually need to take a bite of each food in order to determine if I like it? What am I going to do about other items that are already in my No bucket?” Coconut, the item that created the system also brought its downfall. How fitting.

It took me a while to remove the chocolate/coconut combination from my "No" bucket. The recipe below is how I re-made the German Chocolate Cake-- focus on the coconut.

German Chocolate Coconut Panna Cotta

For the Panna Cotta:

• 1 can coconut milk 13 oz (Cans have higher fat content!)
• 2 teaspoons of gelatin. (Typically one packet)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 4 ounces bittersweet chocolate (Not chips! Chop it up)
• Coconut oil (Just a bit to prep the mold)

Time Saving Tip: Don’t have additional time to unstick and plate your molds? Pour directly in a parfait cup or ramekin and serve directly.

What to do:

1. Use coconut oil to grease 4 ramekins about 6 ounces in size.
2. Bloom the gelatin in ¼ cup of milk for five minutes.
3. Slowly heat the remainder of the coconut milk. Whisk in the vanilla extract. DO NOT BOIL.
4. Once at a simmer, whisk in the gelatin. DO NOT BOIL.
5. Your chopped chocolate should be in a mixing bowl. Strain your cream over the chocolate and whisk until combined.
6. Distribute equally into the molds or cups.
7. Keep in the fridge until set. Usually about 4 hours. Cover if there is an extended time in the fridge.

For the Pecan topping:

• 1 stick butter, diced
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup maple syrup
• 1 cup pecans
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 2 tablespoons of Dark Rum (optional)
• 1/3 cup coconut cream
• ¼ cup coconut of your choice (but I don’t recommend desiccated :)

Time Saving Tip: In a time crunch? Many grocery stores have great caramel sauces in a jar. Just stir in some pecans and sprinkle on the coconut. It can be our little secret!

What to do:

1. Melt the butter in a saucepan.
2. Add in brown sugar and simmer until dissolved (Do Not Burn! Sugar likes to get hot!)
3. Whisk in maple syrup, pecans, vanilla, cream, and rum.
4. Continue to simmer for 5-7 min. Do not over cook or sauce will become too thick.
5. Let cool and set until ready to top the panna cotta. If the sauce cools too much, soften it in the microwave.
6. Unmold the panna cottas and plate with your toppings beautifully drizzled over.
7. Most Importantly, give your plate or dish a little wiggle and take a moment to enjoy your work!