Usually, when I taste a new food, no matter how bizarre, I can always find a comparison. Eating kangaroo is on my short list of ideas for this new summer, but, like, I’m sure when I eat it, it’s gonna taste like chicken or steak or something. I can locate where it falls on my taste buds. I have a frame of reference.
I have never fucking tasted anything like durian.
First, you may have to ask this question: What IS durian? I had that same question when I read this article from the AVClub oh so many years ago. Look at the picture of fresh durian. It looks weeeeird, doesn't it?
"Durian" comes from a Malaysian word meaning "spikes," as you can see above. Durian, in some Southeastern cultures, is known as the "king of fruits." Everyone that is aware of durian knows the most unique part about it—its smell.
There is no way I can fucking describe the thing accurately in words. Wikipedia has such suggestions as "rotten onions," "turpentine," and "raw sewage." Pam offered up at different times "moldy" and "metallic." I, personally, don’t agree with any of that, but I can’t quite place it. It’s bad, yo. To tell you how bad it is, certain hotels in SE Asia have banned the fruit because it smells so bad.
But people fucking eat it! I ate it today, but full disclosure, I could not bring myself to eat in its pure, fresh form. Not only did I not want to eat that abomination pictured above, but also, it’s pretty tough to find in the city. I was told that a few shadier spots in South Philly (Washington Ave.) might have some, but I work closer to Chinatown, so I was gonna get whatever Chinatown had to offer.
I stumbled in a place Mong Kok Station Bakery, on 10th Street between Race and Arch (which was ostensibly Chinatown’s Bakery Row, as far as I could tell). The atmosphere wasn’t quite up to the level of Frank in the basement of Paddy’s, but there were definitely a LOT of people in there just hanging out, definitely not buying anything. They seemed to specialize in desserts and smoothies.
(I’m not a picture-taker, and that felt really fucking icky taking those pics while I was getting rung up for my purchase, so you’re welcome?!)
Anyways, like I was saying, I didn’t get fresh durian, but I got two durian-flavored desserts. The first was a durian tart pastry, and the second a durian bubble smoothie.
Sitting on a stoop on 10th St., I attempted the smoothie first. It did not go down smoothly. Holy moly. Guys, I still have no idea how to describe this thing (Shit, I should’ve asked Craig Laban yesterday!). Okay... imagine the spectrum of banana ripeness, from dark green all the way to blackish-brown mush. Now, imagine that spectrum isn’t a line, but actually a circle. Now imagine the point in between the dark green banana and the blackish-brown banana mush. That’s where the durian flavor lies. And yeah... maybe some rotten onion.
I couldn’t do more than three sips before giving up. It was a flavor that stayed in my mouth long after I dumped the other 19 oz. of smoothie in the curbside trash. The pastry went into my backpack, in case anyone else wanted to try it.
And for what it’s worth, I had severe diarrhea about five minutes after I attempted the smoothie. I’m not saying they are connected (I’m sure my turkey breast footlong from Subway had way more to do with it), but, who’s to say, really?
The durian tart eventually made it’s way back to my parents’ house at the end of the night (after Pam earlier had flatly refused to even take a whiff). I passed it around. Dad took a sniff and just shook his head. Mom-Mom, game as she usually is for a culinary challenge, actually ate a few morsels without complaint. Mom ate half and declared what will be the final description of durian for tonight:
"It tasted like cat urine."
Love,
Joey
No comments:
Post a Comment