Pineapple, Coconut, and the Power of a Pause

Tropicups

A Taste of Summer

Pineapple and coconut go together like peas and carrots (read in a slow Forrest Gump-like drawl). When deciding what to take to our friends’ Fourth of July crawfish boil, a tropical cupcake seemed appropriate. While Louisiana may not be tropical, it was about bringing a taste of summer.

Dating back to 1953, the Tropicups were featured in a baking journal with the mission to “promote and glamorize” the cupcake, as told by Julie Richardson in Vintage Cakes. She notes that pineapple became popular in the early twentieth century. It’s certainly a popular ingredient in anything tropical these days.

Team Coconut

These little gems were a snap to whip up. The first step was to add a spoonful of shredded coconut to the bottom of the cupcake cups. The directions called for the cakes to go naked (no paper liners). I used liners, mainly because my baking pans are old. I’m curious whether the texture would have been different. 

The remaining coconut was incorporated into the batter with pineapple and its juice. Butter and cream cheese served as the fat in the recipe. 

Depending on whether you are Team Coconut or Team Coco-NO, coconut was the unmistakable element that made these cupcakes a tropical treat. With the addition of both sweetened and unsweetened coconut, they were certainly packed with it. 

In my humble opinion, the crispy, toasted coconut on top was delightful. First, it was a clear signal to Team Coco-NO to stay away. Second, it provided a nutty, toasty topping to balance the sweet, moist cake.

Spice it Up

Something unexpected, at least to me, was the addition of nutmeg—and not just a tad. Admittedly, I was skeptical. Nutmeg can be an acquired taste for some. Too much nutmeg can be overpowering.

The nutmeg in these cakes…worked. The spice was definitely detectable, while not overdone. It provided a bit of excitement to what could have been a moist, sweet cake, but no zip.

The other special element was a coconut milk glaze over the top. I know, I know—more coconut. Team Coconut approved.

Tropical Escape

In the end, these Tropicups were an easily transportable, tasty confection. I’d say they didn’t look exciting—I mean, when other treats were decked out in their 250 years of America red, white, and blue and bursting with fireworks. But if you looked past the lack of fanfare, they were a fine summer treat that didn’t have to scream for attention.

In fact, these cupcakes tasted like an escape—like a beach vacation in the middle of Iowa. We were at a pool, so close enough. Can you smell the suntan lotion?

Pause—The Transcend Moment

I’d written “14-ounce crushed pineapple” on the grocery list that week. Crushed. Bless my husband for getting the groceries.

After I started the recipe, I grabbed the “crushed” pineapple, only to realize it was a 20-ounce can of tidbits. Tidbits! I immediately started storming upstairs to demand that Kevin go back to the store to rectify this egregious error. I mean, don’t tell me Walmart didn’t have crushed pineapple (even though I knew he’d reflexively tell me that). 

But then I stopped myself. I paused. What was this going to accomplish—making Kevin irate (for the rest of the day), making myself feel bad, and standing in the bakery with partially made batter, waiting for crushed pineapple to appear? After all, this was just a tiny issue in the grand scheme of things, and there is almost always a solution to a problem. No, I didn’t need to make him feel bad—even though he’s now aware because, obviously, he reads all of my blogs. He’s probably not surprised (unless he’s surprised that I restrained myself—me, too, dear).

The ability to pause is new to me. In the pause, I was allowed to reflect on the balance of our partnership, like the contrast of the pineapple and coconut. The lively energy of the pineapple and the reliable comfort of the coconut complement each other.

In the pause, I navigated the situation without turning sour. (See what I did there? I’m the pineapple…) A good partnership relies on balance and extending grace for the little things that don't matter. More often than not, grace begins with a pause.

Who knew that a simple tropical cupcake could shine the summer sunlight on the importance of a pause? Strong partnerships don’t rely on never making mistakes. They rely on the grace that is offered when we remember to pause.