Our intentions were honourable enough. Taking a break from our serious studies (read: one of us paints cork boards while the other surfs Facebook), we went to the neighbourhood 24hr grocery store to pick up olive oil and pasta sauce. Then, as we strolled down the produce aisle, we chanced upon a most fortuitous discovery.
Jill: Ooh look! Coconuts!
Linda (half-jokingly): We should buy one.
Jill (completely seriously): Let's totally do it.
Linda: Oh, they're only $1.75!
Jill: Done.
As Jill points out, coconuts are a completely impulse buy item. Maybe I'm totally off the mark, but I feel like most people (especially here in Canada) don't go into stores with the intention of buying coconuts. Coconut milk, shredded coconut meat, coconut cream pie...yes. But a whole coconut?
So, instead of studying for midterms, or writing our term papers, we devoted the rest of the evening to the coconut. We gleefully proclaimed our precious purchase to our third roommate, Steph, as we returned to our apartment.
Linda: GUESS WHAT WE BOUGHT?!
Steph (very indulgently): What did you buy?
Jill: Feel in my purse! Feel!
Steph (gingerly sticks hand into Jill's purse): A...fruit?
Linda & Jill: A COCONUT!!!
We googled "how to open a coconut", and found a whole host of literature devoted to it: videos, step-by-step instructions, everything! There's even an entire website devoted to it: howtoopenacoconut.com. For those of you interested in purchasing/eating/procrastinating with your very own coconut, we present a documentation of our trial-and error bumblings through the mire of internet advice. It is worthwhile to note that we fancied ourselves shipwrecked passengers on a desert island throughout the whole process.
First, we sat on the floor and attempted to use a corkscrew on the "eyes" of the coconut (if that sounds violent, just you wait)...to little avail. So we got out our toolbox and with our trusty hammer and screwdriver, we pounded the hole SO hard that the head of the screwdriver got stuck (hmm...violent AND sexual...who would've thought coconuts could be so risqué?) We were rewarded by the trickle of ambrosiac water. Much encouraged, we drilled several other holes, and then let the coconut drain as pictured above. We used a dusting cloth covering a funnel, positioned over one of the Mason jars we use to drink out of because we are soooooo hipster. Steph obligingly took pictures of our self-satisfied grins.
After the coconut drained, the fun part begun. We wrapped the coconut in a plastic bag, and proceeded to smash it with the hammer.
Jill: I am SO glad that the downstairs neighbour moved out.
Steph: Actually, I think I heard people moving in today.
Jill: Oh well...
Linda (trying to hit a coconut that keeps jumping around): This is much harder than a human head.
So we wrapped the coconut in a cloth. In the end, it was Steph whose mighty swing, not unlike that of the god Thor, who succeeded in cracking open the tough nut.
But that was only the first part of the challenge. After a good twenty minutes scraping off the coconut meat off the shell with a small knife and risking cutting her fingers off, Jill became very frustrated.
Jill: I would not have the patience for this on a desert island. I would starve.
Linda: I would catch a fish.
Jill: I wonder if boiling it would work?
So we boiled it for a while, gaining nothing but a pot of murky water and heated but still very hard coconut flesh.
After more probing on the internet, we decided to bake it instead (350 degrees, 15 minutes if you are interested). The results were as desired. And we realised it was midnight. Another night successfully procrastinated away.
We googled "how to open a coconut", and found a whole host of literature devoted to it: videos, step-by-step instructions, everything! There's even an entire website devoted to it: howtoopenacoconut.com. For those of you interested in purchasing/eating/procrastinating with your very own coconut, we present a documentation of our trial-and error bumblings through the mire of internet advice. It is worthwhile to note that we fancied ourselves shipwrecked passengers on a desert island throughout the whole process.
First, we sat on the floor and attempted to use a corkscrew on the "eyes" of the coconut (if that sounds violent, just you wait)...to little avail. So we got out our toolbox and with our trusty hammer and screwdriver, we pounded the hole SO hard that the head of the screwdriver got stuck (hmm...violent AND sexual...who would've thought coconuts could be so risqué?) We were rewarded by the trickle of ambrosiac water. Much encouraged, we drilled several other holes, and then let the coconut drain as pictured above. We used a dusting cloth covering a funnel, positioned over one of the Mason jars we use to drink out of because we are soooooo hipster. Steph obligingly took pictures of our self-satisfied grins.
After the coconut drained, the fun part begun. We wrapped the coconut in a plastic bag, and proceeded to smash it with the hammer.
Jill: I am SO glad that the downstairs neighbour moved out.
Steph: Actually, I think I heard people moving in today.
Jill: Oh well...
Linda (trying to hit a coconut that keeps jumping around): This is much harder than a human head.
So we wrapped the coconut in a cloth. In the end, it was Steph whose mighty swing, not unlike that of the god Thor, who succeeded in cracking open the tough nut.
But that was only the first part of the challenge. After a good twenty minutes scraping off the coconut meat off the shell with a small knife and risking cutting her fingers off, Jill became very frustrated.
Jill: I would not have the patience for this on a desert island. I would starve.
Linda: I would catch a fish.
Jill: I wonder if boiling it would work?
So we boiled it for a while, gaining nothing but a pot of murky water and heated but still very hard coconut flesh.
After more probing on the internet, we decided to bake it instead (350 degrees, 15 minutes if you are interested). The results were as desired. And we realised it was midnight. Another night successfully procrastinated away.
this is why we're friends.
ReplyDelete