love/hate

I was wasting time yesterday afternoon watching a show on the Food Network whose name I shall not utter because I really don't like the host, the food the host makes, and the host's ridiculous hairdos. However, toward the end of the episode she made a cocktail, a quasi-mojito made with coconut milk and coconut rum, that inexplicably appealed to me. Inexplicably, because I avoid coconut like the plague. The flavor doesn't appeal to me, and the texture of it makes me feel like I'm chewing dental floss and/or paper. Don't encrust my fish in it, don't top my brownies with it, and don't you dare give me a pina colada, under any circumstances.

However! I like chocolate-dipped macaroons. Riddle me that! I don't like coconut's flavor in most foods and beverages, but slap a whole ton of the stuff together, dunk it in some chocolate, and I could eat it all day long. Later yesterday, I was picking up some food for dinner at Whole Foods and, lo, I discovered this Larabar flavor:

That befuddling coconut found its way into my life for a second time in less than a day, and something about it sounded good. I bought the bar and ate it for breakfast this morning, and it was awesome. What gives, coconut? Why do I hate you so much, except for when I adore you? My theory right now is that the chocolate/coconut combo is what makes it great, but I also think that sounds ridiculous, even when I consider the magical properties I know chocolate to possess. If chocolate can make me like coconut, could it also make me like bacon? Wow, that sounds nasty. (Also, the chocolate theory doesn't explain my interest in the coconut mojito I saw on TV.)

In conclusion, this post is in lieu of one about actual cooking, because I've not done much of it this week, other than a batch of wheatberries on Monday (some of which I added to my oatmeal with chewily delicious results) and roasted beets and my very first omelette on Tuesday (I sauteed the beet greens and threw them in the omelette with shredded pecorino romano and a little bit of storebought olive tapenade). A bunch of leftovers in the fridge means I probably won't do much cooking again until the weekend ... but that doesn't mean I can't start thinking about what to make.