Coconut Custard Pie

Danny's anniversary. Eleven years. Every year I think about what to say and every year there's nothing new and everything new. The loss doesn't change. I change. I'm twenty-seven. I'm engaged. I brew sour beer and write about pierogi on the internet and I'm planning a wedding. Eleven years ago I was seventeen and carrying a casket and the world was cracked. The world is still cracked. I just built something over the crack.

I went to Holy Cross at dawn. March in Milwaukee — grey, cold, the promise of spring still just a promise. I sat by Danny's headstone and told him the wedding was in three months. I told him about the pierogi army, about Mrs. Wojcik coming at ninety-two, about the "Dwa Narody" beer. I told him the number 8 would be etched into something at the wedding — the inside of my wedding band, probably. His number. Our number. Always.

Megan left a note on the counter again: "Say hi to Danny. I love you." She writes this every year. The handwriting is the same — her careful teacher handwriting, in blue ink, on a Post-it note. I save every one. There's a small stack of them in the recipe box she gave me. Danny's notes. From a woman who never met him but carries him because she carries me.

Made pierogi that night. Sauerkraut. Danny's favorite. The ritual is the memorial. The dough is the prayer. I rolled and filled and folded and fried and ate them standing at the stove in the quiet kitchen and the apartment smelled like Babcia's house and for a few minutes the eleven years felt shorter. Not gone. Just shorter.

After the last pierogi was gone and the pan was cooling on the stove, I wasn’t ready for the night to end — I never am on Danny’s anniversary. So I did what I always do when I need my hands to keep moving: I baked. This coconut custard pie is Babcia-adjacent in its simplicity, the kind of recipe that doesn’t ask much of you except to be present while it sets. Danny had a sweet tooth I could never match; putting something this quiet and sweet on the table at the end of a night like this feels, in some small way, like leaving a plate out for him.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust, homemade or store-bought
3 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 cups whole milk
1 cup sweetened shredded coconut
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Place the unbaked pie crust in a 9-inch pie dish and crimp the edges; set aside.
Make the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, sugar, salt, and vanilla until smooth and slightly pale, about 1 minute.
Add the milk. Gradually whisk in the whole milk until fully combined. Do not rush — slow incorporation keeps the custard silky.
Fold in coconut. Stir in the shredded coconut so it is evenly distributed throughout the custard mixture.
Fill and season. Pour the custard into the prepared pie crust. Dust the top evenly with ground nutmeg.
Bake. Bake for 40–45 minutes, until the center is just set and a thin knife inserted 1 inch from the center comes out clean. The filling will firm up further as it cools.
Cool completely. Transfer to a wire rack and cool for at least 1 hour before slicing. Serve at room temperature or refrigerate for a firmer, chilled slice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Coconut Custard Pie — Something Sweet at the End of a Long, Sacred Night