Thursday, January 5, 2012

How to Open a Coconut

I'm going to try to write all the posts I meant to write, but was too lazy or busy to, in the next week. There may be a flurry of posting by me. Whoops.

To get us started:

How to Open a Coconut, by David Aaronson

Steps:

1. Obtain a coconut.

2. Laugh at a friend who accidentally pushes the coconut out of the shopping cart and onto the floor, where it promptly cracks and bleeds out.

3. Obtain a second coconut.

4. Bring this one home, unharmed.

5. Decide you want to eat the coconut one night.

6. Take the coconut out. Glare at it with the suspicion that you're going to have to open it before you can eat it.

7. Realize you don't know how this is done, but assure yourself that it should be easy enough: this is not Cast Away.

8. Google. It informs you that you must drain the milk first.

9. Look around the apartment for a sharp, thin object. There are no knives thin enough, and no pens survive the encounter. Resort to a metal chop stick.

10. Puncture one eye of the coconut. Thank naming conventions that you can now say you have stabbed something in the eye with a chopstick. Thank Korea for using metal chopsticks.

11. Unable to puncture either of the other eyes (The Big G informs you that it is usually the case that one eye is more vulnerable), resort to allowing it to drain slowing from one whole, with no air intake.

12. Watch it start to drain extremely slowly. Become impatient. Start shaking the coconut in frustration.

13. Realize that's actually helping.

14. Shake the coconut out, over the course of a frustratingly long period of time.

15. Declare, "good enough", and move on to opening the sucker.

16. Look around for an object that is heavy, and thin and long enough to hit the coconut along its equator so that it cracks open rather than shattering.

17. Try a shoe. Doesn't work.

18. Start pounding the coconut against your metal kitchen counter tops.

19. Discover a hollow noise, suggesting your counter top is not as solid as you had imagined.

20. Remember that it's 3 am, and you have neighbors and thin walls.

21. After failing once again to find anything else to hit it with, resort to tapping it lightly on your flimsy metal counter top. No dice.

22. Resign yourself to not eating coconut tonight.

23. Realize the coconut is already open, and, forgetting entirely about the refrigerator you have right over there, decide that means you have to open, and eat, it tonight, or it will rot and die.

24. Get and idea

25. Realize it's a bad idea

26. Decide it's a good idea.

27. Put the coconut in a plastic bag. Bring it into the bathroom. Smash it as hard as you can against every tile surface in there.

28. Victory!

29. Hold on there cowboy, not done yet. Now that you've opened it, you are now tasked with somehow removing the flesh from the hard outer shell, a task you neither considered nor realized would be this difficult.

30. Start scraping the flesh off with the spoon. Delight in your first taste of coconut flesh this evening.

31. Shortly realize this totally isn't cutting it.

32. Consult His Greatness, The Google. In His wisdom, He tells you that frozen coconut flesh is much easier to separate from the shell. Suddenly remember that fridge.

33. Wait around for the coconut to get cold enough. While you're waiting, make instant ramyon noodles, because damn you're hungry.

34. Once it's cold, remove the coconut, and successfully liberate the flesh from the shell by wedging your knife between the two and putting on what feels like too much pressure. Worry about breaking your knife.

35. Achieve success.

36. Realize that's waaaaay too much coconut. I mean, you just ate.

37. Thankfully, it's already frozen. Wasn't that convenient?
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