One Sunday, El Jefe was downstairs watching a soccer game. He generally ends up falling asleep in front of the television so I was surprised when I heard the distinctive sound of a machete chop-chop-chopping away at something outside. I couldn't see him, but I called, "Is that you? What are you doing?" He answered that he was getting a coconut. I assumed that he was getting one to drink the coconut water, since that is his preferred use of coconuts.
A while later I went downstairs to refill my iced tea glass and I found a pan of coconut macaroons on the stove, still warm from the oven! I was dumbfounded!!
Has someone been in our house? Is it not Sunday, but Monday, and Arexy is here and knows how to do this? Did someone visit, make macaroons for us and leave without me knowing it? Is there now a packaged slice-and-bake macaroon cookie dough at the grocery store? Did a neighbor bring us macaroons and El Jefe reheated them in the oven? Have I so completely lost my mind that I made macaroons without remembering doing so? Seriously, all of those thoughts raced through my mind before I considered the possibility that El Jefe had baked them. ;-D
What is this?!!, I exclaimed.
I forget the name but they are cookies.
Where did they come from?!!
Did you make these?!!!
Did you find a recipe in one of my cookbooks?
How did you make them? What made you think of making macaroons?
I was changing channels and started watching this cooking show. The guy was making cookies that looked good and pretty easy, so I made them.
Are you serious?
We quickly gobbled up all nine of them.
They were great but he wasn't entirely happy with them. I think the only problem was that he used the entire coconut (grated by hand!!!) and that was probably more coconut than the recipe called for. He probably should have doubled the other ingredients, but, hey, I wasn't complaining.
Sorry for the excess of exclamation points in this article. You have to understand that this is the same guy who I offered to show where our laundry room was located about three years after we moved into our house. NOT that he doesn't help. He's great.
He does like to cook on that rare occasion and likes to learn how to make his favorites in case I'm ever indisposed, which I have been on a few occasions. He cooked for me when I had dengue, a broken foot, shingles, pneumonia, and now the flu, as well as a few other non-medical emergency occasions. But baking cookies? I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.