Coconut Snowballs

December. The fruitcakes are soaking — three of them, in their cheesecloth, in the bourbon, on the second shelf. I started them on December first because the first is always when I start them and the starting is the first act of the whole Christmas ritual. The fruitcakes soaking means the season has officially begun, which is a kind of liturgy I have made for myself, unofficial and reliable.

Dorothy is doing well. James sent a Christmas card — an actual physical card, which he never does — with a note inside that said, clean scan results last week. They are calling it a good response. She is tired but she is well. He said she had been in the kitchen this week, baking something, and he had stood in the doorway watching her and been so grateful he had to leave the room. I understand that completely. I told him that standing in the doorway watching someone you love cook is one of the holiest things. He said, I believe that now in a way I didn't before this year. I said, some things you only learn from nearly losing. He said, yes.

Birthday in twenty days. Fifty-three years old this Christmas. I am thinking about what I want the year ahead to hold. Not resolutions — I have never made resolutions, which seem to me to be a form of arguing with yourself in January about things you haven't done yet. Just orientation. I want to keep building the table. I want to get to Memphis again with Destiny. I want to be in CJ and Shanice's kitchen cooking alongside her. I want to see Dorothy well. These are not resolutions. These are directions. The difference is that directions give you somewhere to walk rather than something to become, and I find I respond better to walking than to becoming.

The fruitcakes are doing their slow, patient work on the second shelf, and that ritual is handled — but I always want something I can bring to a table quickly, something that feels like a little gift wrapped in white, something that says it’s Christmas without requiring another three weeks. These Coconut Snowballs are exactly that. They remind me of the kind of thing Dorothy might pull out of her kitchen on a good day — small, sweet, unassuming — and right now, every good day counts for something holy.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 24 snowballs

Ingredients

8 oz cream cheese, softened
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp almond extract
2 1/2 cups sweetened shredded coconut, divided
1 cup white chocolate chips, melted and slightly cooled
1/4 tsp fine sea salt

Instructions

Mix the base. Beat the softened cream cheese with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the powdered sugar gradually, mixing on low until incorporated, then increase to medium and beat until creamy. Mix in the vanilla extract, almond extract, and salt.
Add coconut. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of the shredded coconut until evenly distributed throughout the cream cheese mixture. The mixture should be thick enough to hold a shape.
Chill the mixture. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 45 minutes, or until the mixture is firm enough to roll into balls without sticking to your hands.
Roll into balls. Spread the remaining 1 cup of shredded coconut on a shallow plate. Scoop the chilled mixture by rounded tablespoons and roll between your palms into smooth balls, then roll each ball in the coconut to coat completely.
Dip in white chocolate (optional but lovely). If using, dip the bottom half of each snowball into the melted white chocolate and set on a parchment-lined baking sheet. This adds a little extra sweetness and helps the snowballs hold their shape.
Final chill. Refrigerate the finished snowballs for at least 20 minutes before serving, until set. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to one week.

Nutrition (per serving)

Coconut Snowballs — A Little Christmas Magic for the Table You’re Still Building