COCONUT RAINBOW POPSICLES | PLUOT VANILLA LAYER.

Popsicle Week could not have come at a better time this summer, since temps on Monday topped out at 108º here in LA. The thing this city needed, more than anything else at all, was a mother-friggin’ popsicle. Molly, Alana, and I began planning our popsicle party weeks before Molly arrived from Minnesota. We decided on a three-layer wonder pop (not to be confused with a wonder pup, which sounds absolutely delightful), with a coconut milk base for each.

Alana was enthralled by the idea of coconut and lemongrass, Molly wanted to experiment with rosewater and cinnamon, and I threw out cucumber and basil on my way to a blushing pluot vanilla. Enter the coconut rainbow pop (bonus: they’re the perfect popsicle for any and all Pride month celebrations!).

The other Popsicle Week miracle that happened this year is that Molly’s Airbnb was a Silver Lake daydream of an abode—complete with an adorable vintage stove and luscious central AC. Every corner was optimally photogenic, so we couldn’t resist making use of it for our popsicle party.

The Popsicle King, Billy Green, and Cozy Queen, Adrianna Adarme, paid us a visit to eat pops and poke bowls (Alana makes the best dang poke I’ve ever had) and help snap some photos of us with rainbow pops in hand (thank you for the photos, Adrianna and Billy!).

(Look ☝️! See the rainbows that flitted into the frame of our rainbow popsicle photo shoot?) It was 108º when we took this photo, and somehow the popsicles didn’t melt down our arms likes we had hoped and dreamed. Instead, each layer held up beautifully on its own and in symphony with the others.

The top layer, lemongrass coconut, is sweet and herbaceous, with the exquisite aromatics of fresh lemongrass laced with lemon zest. The second, pluot vanilla, is deeply tart and lush, its gorgeous stone fruit color matched by a flavor that sings of summer sunshine. The third, rosewater, is subtle and mellow, a floral refuge sweetened with maple syrup and rounded out with cinnamon. Together, they’re extraordinary.

And of course, no popsicle party is complete without as many toppings as your heart desires. We settled on toasted coconut, crushed pistachio, rose petals, and flaky sea salt atop a generous drizzle of melted dark chocolate.

In between prepping popsicle layers, we pored over the details that made the Airbnb so generous in its aesthetic appeal: Gorgeous, tiny brushed gold espresso spoons, art that was inviting yet rigorous, vintage window latches, an impressive coffee table book collection, the right mix of marble and wood and metal and glass. I felt the pang, as I often do, of living in a space that I haven’t quite finished moving into. Not with my whole heart.

I’ve lived 90% moved in to most of the “homes” I’ve occupied over the past ten years. It was a habit born of necessity—it always seemed I would need to leave a place eventually. I’ve left gaps in my apartment, places I didn’t quite know how to bring to life. But now, no matter how long I stay, I want to fill my space entirely. I’m tired of leaving, or of being perpetually in the leaving mindset, and I’m ready to let that final 10% of my heart settle into a home. I want to fill my space with art and books and plants that bring me joy, that make me feel more, not less, myself.

I just needed to be in somebody else’s perfect home to push me over the edge. That, and a good dose of Alana, Molly, and coconut rainbow popsicle psychospiritual truth serum, of course.

(What??? I just really like popsicles, ok?)