Except for the occasional pina colada or Jewish macaroon, I’ve never been a huge fan of coconut. I remember Vita and those other coconut water brands sending boxes of product to the office last year, and always hating the taste. But I became a coconut convert in Vietnam. Especially when the coconut has been on ice, and especially when it’s 1,000 degrees outside, and especially when the vendor hacks it open on the street with a giant machete and a smile, and then sprinkles the flesh with a little sugar and crushed ice.
(Please note the size differential between Gabe and the average Vietnamese woman. Giggle.)
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam