‘Try everything twice, in case the first time you weren’t quite ready for it yet’. Such were the words engraved in my impressible 12 year old mind. What seems like sound life-advice actually came from the mouth of a chubby guy, resembling one of those laughing Budha statues – a traveling chef wandering the world in search of exotic flavours. And this time round, the topic was a prickly situation by the name of ‘durian’.
The words stuck, burnt in my memory as a silent mantra in life. The word ‘durian’ on the other hand was thrown in the miscelaneous area of my internal library, tagged ‘fun fact’ and ‘random table-time conversation’. It never came up.
Needless to say, my little east-European country was barely hailing small quantities of the likes of mango and coconuts. You could find them in the early 2000s, just not around every corner. Dragon fruit, passion fruit, lychees and such, I don’t recall spotting these casually on a shelf for another 10 years. So, it goes without saying that the king of fruit was useless in my repertoire.
It would be almost 20 years before I casually bumped into his highness once more, this time on my own turf’. As I pranced into the office one morning, the kitchen table donned a plate candies, clad in pale-yelllow, double layered wrapping. ‘Try some’, a voice said. ‘It’s Durian toffee. I brought them from my trip in Thailand’. My colleague eagerly offered the plate, while my brain refocused for first contact with the elusive fruit flavour of culinary mithology.
For some reason I braced myself, expecting a stench of death, fish and onions. I pulled the candy closer to my face, threw it in my mouth and began a slow chew. There was stinky cheese and candy, no more, no less. I raised an eyebrow at the taste and placed it under unsuccesful attempts of imitating fruit flavours. Thanking my colleague I took two more candies for the road – which later remained forgotten in my bag, lending it a bit of their dubious scent. First try down, but this was not the end.
A few months later the tides brought me to Malaysia, visiting a friend. Of course, reading up on what to do, my old ‘acquaintance’ came up on the list, and we stared each-other through the screen. This time it’s a show down for sure. Or so I though.
On the streets of Kuala Lumpur I quickly came face to face with the real thing, as well as the plastic imitations, yet it still eluded me. It seemed to be everywhere on the streets but never close to my plate. ‘No durian in the house’ my friend postulated as the only rule of my visit. It felt forbidden, and like all things forbidden, it must be had.
In a moment on frenzy, passing through the fruit market, I took a wiff of a cling foil covered fruit. The round, pale-yellow flesh was so close, I could almost touch it with my cheek. The cling foil firmly separated us, yet I could feel a mild, familiar scent.
‘You can’t have durian just anywhere’, my friend’s friend explained. ‘You have to have the good stuff’. ‘At this point I’d like to have any durian’, bubbled in my mind. ‘There are a number of varieties, each with a different flavour’. Ah! A connoisseur! Evrika, I thought to myself, as he promised to make some time and accompany me to some ‘good durian places’. It’s on!
Just a little longer, I told myself. No use indulging in common durian, when I can have the full on experience, in as little as two days. And just as this thought passed my mind, I came across the perfect cheat. Take note, it seemes that everything and anything in Malaysia can come in durian flavour. Dried durian, ice-cream duriam, bread-spread durian, and in this case, durrian puffs. Puff pastry filled with a heavy dollop of durian-flavoured cream. Yes please! I would like to live to tell my grand-kids that I once ate such a silly thing.
Clutching the paper bag on my way back home, I couldn’t help feeling slightly naughty about bringing this particular pastry back to my friends house. It wasn’t technically the fruit itself, so it’s ok, righ?
I gorged on the puff with the intensity of a child who had accessed the sweets pantry. And it was there again, the sweet yet savoury, slightly stinky flavour that I attributed to the toffee flavouring, yet still consistent with the scent from the market. Could this actually be the famed flavour of the fruit king? Only one way to find out.
Days passed, then the week and finally two weeks had passed and I had yet to stumble across a chance to have a proper tasting. I wondered the streets where random fruit stalls had the prickly fruit hanging around, ready to be indulged in. And yet I waited for the promissed experience that never came.
One evening I went out for food with a bunch of people. We were looking for an Indian restaurant when we stopped to admire some street art and lights down an alley way. ‘I’ve never been down this road, it’s always closed durring the day’ someone said. Well, let’s make it an adventure and see what’s there! There were lights and certainly people. We stepped eagerly and before we knew what we were heading towards, the scent hit us through the humid air: durrian. Sweet peculiar scent loomed in the area an I caught a glimpse of a durian filled shop. I had finally found the place! Tomorrow I shall feast here.
The following evening I ran off on my own. Nobody would stop me. I found the alley and the place and eagerly sat down after ordering some fruit. I’d never sat down in restaurant before in order to eat fruit. I was invited to a box of disposable gloves. Durian eating is no joke. The area has an aura of durian scent that lingers in the air a few meters outside. And it really seems you don’t want it on your hands. I am presented my slice of durian – that is all I am willing to invest in, considering it’s notoriousness. Gloves on and for a moment I hold my breath and savour the plump look of the yellow flesh, then before i could blink, I had thrown a piece in my mouth. I was ready to swallow it quickly like some bad medicine, but it hit me. Tropical tasting, creamy, sweet, hinting to apple and jackfruit and with an aftertaste of strong cheese and it all came in a subtle gradient. I suddenly understood the crazy reason why they made durian spread and ice-cream and pastry. What has this fruit done to wrong the world?
The last piece was eaten and the gloves came off. My rendez-vous with the king had been short but wonderful.This was obviously not a case of needing to give things a second try. It was lovely! When can I have it again?