Durian: King of Fruit & Fruit of Kings

...as the saying goes in Thailand.

Durian is especially beloved amongst the Thai. It's rich and smooth, with a consistency similar to that of an avocado, and a sweet lush flavor all its own. But you're forbidden to bring it onto a bus or into a taxi. Nor can you carry it into a public building. Walk into your hotel with a durian tucked under your arm like a football, and you're sure to be relocating soon. Why?

Because in spite of its flavor, this fruit's odor is so outrageously rank as to make dog breath seem positively perfumy. Its smell has long strained the bounds of hyperbole for adequate descriptors, including sweaty gym sock and rotten egg....actually rotten anything!

 I was surprised to find this woman selling cut durian on the street, so tightly are its possession and transport regulated.

It's really large, so you can't just buy one and munch on it like an apple while you're out in the open. You have to carve through its thick, spiny exterior to reach the soft, creamy pockets of fruit inside. Its fragrance--odor is more accurate--is most assuredly off-putting, but durian is addictively tasty.

 Here's the fresh stuff. Durian is creamy, with a consistency similar to that of an avocado, and a sweet delicate flavor.

While durian is available much of the year, the season runs from late spring into early summer, when you can find the best and sweetest specimens. It's readily available dehydrated and made into a paste, which you can either bake with or eat right out of the tube. Durian is also dried into chips. Think banana chips, but thinner and with more flavor.

 

Durian paste is available in these tubes that are about the size of cigars. The larger size looks like a package of golden cookie dough.
The paste delivers the flavor with only a slight odor.

  

These lovely cakes remind me of Chinese lotus cakes, but they're filled with durian paste. They're sweet and tasty with none of the stout odor of the fresh durian.

  

Durian chips are an incredibly popular snack. They carry none of the pungent smell of the fresh fruit.

A couple of years ago  I had some ice cream in L.A.'s Thai Town that was made from fresh durian. It was simultaneously sweet and savory, with a back-flavor of garlic. Or was it sulfur? Hmm. No matter, it was intriguing but good. And it makes me consider that old smelly-as-tasty conundrum. Some of the stinkiest cheeses have the mildest yet richest flavors. I don't understand it, but I appreciate it. The same is true with durian.

I realize I'm not doing much to sell it, but durian is actually a lovely fruit, once you get past the smell. And you should, if you get the opportunity. If you live in a town with a strong Asian presence, chances are the Asian groceries carry it when it's in season. This won't provide the best example of how tasty it is, though, since it will have been picked green and shipped halfway 'round the globe. Still it's worth a try. If your travels ever take you to Thailand--and they should--you should seek it out. But don't let your nose boss around your taste buds. Let them have their say. If for no other reason, you'll claim some amazing braggin' rights!

P-U-licious!

I’ve often smelled the notoriously STANKY durian fruit on the stands outside the doors of markets on Stockton Street in San Francisco’s Chinatown, but I’ve never had the opportunity to try a bite. It IS uniquely off-putting stuff, that’s for sure. People liken it to everything from gym socks to rotting meat to skunk spray. Geez, who WOULDN’T want to belly up to a serving of that?! You can’t even carry a fresh durian onto a bus or into a taxi, the smell is so obnoxious and overpowering.

And it looks so harmless, doesn't it? . . .

But I’ll try most anything once, so I’ve been looking for a chance to sample this Southeast Asian “king of fruits.” My opportunity to get an idea of what it tastes like came this weekend in Thai Town when I ordered durian ice cream. It was at the same time both delicate and assertive. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything with that self-contradicting characteristic. It had a soft, fruity flavor with a sulphuric back taste you sometimes get with garlic or onion that has been cut and then left sitting on the counter for a while. It’s oddly both appealing and repellent, sort of like Mick Jagger.

Would I order it again? Sure, I might. Or I might try another flavor that doesn’t show up in my local ice creamery. It’s great having the opportunity to visit a sweet shop in an ethnic neighborhood and discover flavors that are as basic and beloved to its citizenry as vanilla and chocolate are in my own neighborhood. You never know when you’ll find something you love so much you’ll get it again and again—like that avocado shake I order every time I go to a particular Vietnamese restaurant back home in Memphis.

As I’ve said ad nauseum, I like to keep an open mind and an open mouth. If I don’t like what I’m trying, at least I’ve made an informed decision. And I can always keep a tin of Altoids with me, just in case!