I have coconuts. The gardeners brought them around a few days ago and I decided the long weekend would be a perfect opportunity for from-scratch piña coladas. When you buy a coconut from one of the boys selling them on the street, they open it in the blink of an eye with three or four deft flicks of a machete, let you drink the juice, and then a few more flicks has the rest of the coconut disassembled and ready for snacking. Quick and clean. This is not my way. Opening a coconut is, at its best, a joyful expression of unadulterated savagery.
You take a screwdriver and poke it in one of the three soft spots and the end of the coconut, charmingly referred to as eyes, and thrust the point home with a hammer on the back end. Then you stab out the other eyes and flip it upside down to drain out all the juice, or if you prefer to think of it a certain way, its life force. Put the remaining lifeless husk in a Ziploc, but don’t close it, and then wrap it securely in a towel so that there’s not much room for it to slide around inside and the majority of the towel is between the coconut and the counter. Then grab your hammer and just whale on that sucker until it’s reduced to conveniently sized pieces. You may sound your barbaric yawp at any point during the process. From there fingers and a knife ought to be able to strip the carcass pretty thoroughly.
No, this method doesn’t leave much of a shell left to drink the piña coladas out of later with a little umbrella, but I’m okay with that. I have glassware. What do you think I am, some kind of savage?