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Coconut-Almond Cookie Bark — The Sweet Thing Uncle Clyde Always Saved for Last

January 2025. Winter in Memphis, 66 years old, and the cold has settled into the house on Deadrick Avenue the way cold settles into old bones — persistently, without malice, just the physics of aging and December. Rosetta has the thermostat set at 74, our eternal compromise, and I cook warming things: stews and soups and slow-braised meats that fill the house with steam and flavor.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 41 years of marriage.

I made cornbread in the cast iron skillet — buttermilk, cornmeal, bacon drippings, the recipe that goes back to Mama and before Mama to her mama and before that to wherever the tradition began. Baked at 425 until golden and crusty, the edges dark and lacy, the center soft and crumbling. Some weeks cornbread is enough. Some weeks the simplest food is the most profound.

The week ended on the porch with Rosetta, the evening settling over Orange Mound, the smoker cooling in the backyard. The fire was banked but not out — it's never out, just resting between cooks, holding the heat the way I hold the tradition: carefully, permanently, with the understanding that what Uncle Clyde gave me is not mine to keep but mine to pass, and the passing is the purpose.

Uncle Clyde always said the fire deserved a sweet ending — something crisp and nutty to pass around after the smoke settled, something that kept your hands busy while the stories came out. Peanut brittle was his signature, but this Coconut-Almond Cookie Bark carries that same spirit: toasted, crunchy, a little indulgent, the kind of thing you break into pieces and share without thinking twice. Standing on that porch with Rosetta as the evening came in over Orange Mound, I knew it was the right note to end on — the tradition resting, not finished, just waiting to be passed.

Coconut-Almond Cookie Bark

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 16

Ingredients

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 cup sweetened shredded coconut
  • 1 cup sliced almonds, lightly toasted
  • 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (optional, for drizzle)

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet (15x10 inches) with parchment paper and lightly grease.
  2. Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
  3. Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat softened butter with both sugars until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, then vanilla, beating well after each addition.
  4. Combine. Gradually stir dry ingredients into the butter mixture until just incorporated. Fold in coconut and 3/4 of the sliced almonds.
  5. Press and top. Spread the dough evenly across the prepared baking sheet in a thin, uniform layer, pressing to the edges. Scatter the remaining almonds over the top and press gently into the surface.
  6. Bake. Bake 10–12 minutes, until the bark is golden brown across the top and the edges are set. Do not overbake — the center will firm as it cools.
  7. Cool and break. Let cool completely on the pan, at least 20 minutes. Once cooled, break into irregular pieces by hand or with a sharp knife, just like brittle.
  8. Optional drizzle. Melt chocolate chips and drizzle over broken pieces with a fork for a finishing touch. Let set before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 290 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 140mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 460 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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