Of all the sweet treats my grandmother made so well, fresh coconut cake always seemed to be my father's favorite. I detested grated coconut until sometime after her death, so I never tried hers. However, this Christmas seemed like the perfect time to bake one for my father.

At a glance, the recipe sounded easy enough, given that the first ingredient was Duncan Hines Golden Butter Cake Mix. I baked that according to the instructions. Actually, I baked two boxes to make four full layers, so the rest of my instructions will work for that adjustment.

While the layers baked, I faced the coconut. There's got to be a better way than what I tried, basically gouging a hole to drain the liquid out by tapping a thin serrated knife into it with a meat tenderizer. Still, I managed to drain the thing and reserve the liquid. Next I endeavored to crack the coconut open. I will spare you those gruesome details. Look here, as I should have done, for help on cracking the coconut , and then find out the rest of the recipe after the jump.
The flesh of my coconut was meager and difficult to grate, so I opted to chop it finely--and buy a bag of frozen grated coconut to supplement the yield.

Next, I made the coconut syrup. To do this, combine in a small saucepan the liquid from the coconut, about 3/4 of a can of coconut milk, 3 cups of sugar, and a 1/2 cup of Karo corn syrup. Stirring to dissolve the sugar, bring to a boil (mine boiled over, of course), remove from heat, and add 2 teaspoons of vanilla and a can of evaporated milk.

Finally, I was ready to assemble the cake. This takes patience. Layer by layer, you pour the syrup over the cake, going slowly so it soaks in before you add more. It doesn't seem as though the cake will absorb all the syrup, but it will. After a layer absorbs its portion of the syrup, sprinkle it with a quarter of the coconut flakes and move on to the next layer.

After mine was all layered, I couldn't see any grated coconut flakes between the layers, so I patted some flakes onto the sides and between the edges of the layers. As you can see from the picture, some will stick, but it doesn't need to be totally covered. It ends up looking like it's draped in a light snowfall.

My father said it looked and tasted as good or better than his mother's, which is high praise indeed. Like I said, it's worth the (immense) trouble.