Dude, where’s my coconut?

Strolling through Toronto’s Chinatown last Saturday, I kept an eye open for a favourite treat of mine – young coconuts. We found them, three for five dollars. It seemed fated, since I was with two companions, Nicolas and his friend Jason – three people for the three coconut special. Soon the tops were chopped off the coconuts and straws were inserted, and we were on our way. Nic and Jason were not as enthusiastic about the coconuts as I was, and they quickly jettisoned theirs, but I sipped mine all the way to the patio we were headed for.

Once we arrived, my coconut dry of its juice, I presented it to the waitress and said “fill ‘er up with rum and coke”. The waitress obliged, and the coconut became a celebrated element of the evening, with Nic even bestowing a name upon it – Bernie. We were joined by a few other friends, and after a little while became restless, since the atmosphere at the bar was pretty sedate. Unfortunately, one of our friends had just ordered a beer. No problem – take it to go in the coconut! In the beer went, and we were on our way to the next place, an opening at Spin Gallery. The beer-filled coconut slipped in unnoticed.

The night wore on, and I felt a bit adrift in a turbulent sea consisting of a dazzling array of scenesters and a very very particular genre of art (which I will discuss at length in the next post, but right now I will tell you that I have christened this genre of art Supermodel Taking A Shit). Then I saw someone I didn’t know carrying my coconut! It turns out “security” was carting it away to the trash. I approached the gentleman who had disposed of my coconut, and told him the whole story of Bernie’s short life. “Very clever… brilliant really,” he purred in my ear. “I’m supposed to make sure no one sneaks anything in. I never would have thought to check the coconut.”

Now you know, folks. No one thinks to check the coconut. Fill it up with whatever suits your fancy and take to the streets. You’ll need a good stiff drink to appreciate art in the Supermodel Taking A Shit genre.

5 replies on “Dude, where’s my coconut?”

brilliant! I like that there’s a youngcoconut.com, too. One of the things I like to look at, but have never purchased, are the jars labeled (I swear to god) "gelatinous mutant coconut" that are available in Philipino groceries. Since the jars are glass, it’s pretty apparent that that is exactly what they contain. Also, on the subject of young fruit in chinatown- I am always on the lookout for "baby soursop". They are small and fuzzy, and about the size of pistachios, and have the same kinda obsesive compulsive shelling and eating action going. But they’re sour. They are never in season. I’ve only had them once.

That was so much fun … The young coconut was delish … I just really could have used the shot of Malibu in that shell RIGHT from the get go!!! … Let’s face it … There was only one nut honored with a name, which in turn granted it VIP status!!! BERNIE was the one and only worthy of entering the presence of a SUPERMODEL “paying her taxes” …and from my angle the genius of all mysteries was revealed in the puppet show that one fair night… oX!~

I’ve only had young green coconut juice once — I was at a beach in Ecuador, swinging in a hammock that I had suspended between a couple of palm trees. I was half asleep but was awoken by a loud THUMP in the sand next to me. There lay a huge green coconut that had fallen out of the tree and had missed my head by about six inches.

It weighed three or four pounds. I later learned that several people a year are killed (and many injured) around the world by falling coconuts.

Anyway, I spent about an hour trying to get into it with my little Opinel pocketknife. I finally got in. I was expecting "milk" but it was pretty clear. Kind of thick though, and very green tasting.

I didn’t drink it all though, since I didn’t know if it would give me the shits the way too much unripened fruit sometimes can.

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