The violation of a coconut

Visiting Adelphi University, I found myself in possession of a $.99 coconut, courtesy of an enthusiastic and didactic produce stocker at Pathmark. Luckily, primitive tools were available:

Opening a coconut with a hammer turned out to be a risky proposition. After a few thwacks, it was suggested that the claw end of the hammer might be more effective at cleaving its hairy skull; this approach resulted in one (1) hammer claw whizzing past some faces. The head of the hammer ended up being most effective; I’d wager that the residents below our room were less than grateful.

So, coconut chunks; how to eat; we ended up gnawing at the pieces like very large, television-loving woodland creatures. Turns out that the (very hard) flesh of the coconut is immediately surrounded by a paper-thin layer of earthy, fibrous stuff, which gave the coconut meat a nuttier flavor than any of us expected.

And, having picked out a juicy one – thanks to our helpful stocker friend – we were left with, well, coconut juice. (“Milk,” optimistically; it was incredibly mild and watery.) What better to do than guzzle coconut milk from the half-shell? (thirty-secondth-shell?)