Coconut Joys — The Sweetness You Make When the Week Has Already Said Enough

Fourth of July. I worked the holiday — banking hours. The ER had the usual fireworks-related parade. I made ginataang manok at home Sunday and ate it on the balcony in the eight PM light.

Lourdes is 76. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one.

I made ginataang manok Sunday. The coconut chicken. The coconut milk forgives almost any cooking mistake.

I skipped the blog this week. Some weeks the kitchen is enough.

I sat at the kitchen table Sunday night with the bowl in front of me. The bowl was warm. The bowl was the prayer.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

I kept coming back to coconut this week — the way it carried the chicken on Sunday, the way it softened everything in the pot without asking anything complicated in return. After the shifts and the lumpia math and the eighteen minutes with Auntie Norma and all the unread email I closed the laptop on, I wanted something sweet that asked nothing of me either. Coconut Joys are that. Three ingredients, no oven, no performance — just the coconut doing what coconut does, which is forgive and comfort and hold.

Coconut Joys

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 20 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 24 pieces

Ingredients

• 3 cups sweetened shredded coconut
• 1 cup powdered sugar, sifted
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
• 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
• 1 tablespoon coconut oil or neutral oil (for melting chocolate)
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• Pinch of salt

Instructions

1. Mix the coconut base. In a medium bowl, combine the shredded coconut, powdered sugar, melted butter, vanilla extract, and a pinch of salt. Stir until fully combined and the mixture holds together when pressed.
2. Shape the pieces. Using your hands or a small cookie scoop, portion the mixture into roughly 1-tablespoon mounds and shape them into small ovals or rounds. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
3. Chill to firm. Refrigerate the shaped pieces for at least 30 minutes, until firm and cold.
4. Melt the chocolate. In a small saucepan over low heat, or in a microwave in 30-second intervals, melt the chocolate chips with the coconut oil, stirring until smooth. Remove from heat and let cool for 2–3 minutes.
5. Dip or drizzle. Either dip the bottom of each coconut piece into the melted chocolate or drizzle the chocolate over the tops using a spoon or fork. Return to the parchment-lined sheet.
6. Set and serve. Refrigerate for another 15–20 minutes until the chocolate is fully set. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to one week.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 30mg