Trying the "King of Fruits"

Even double-bagged, with one bag tied shut, enclosed in a Styrofoam container and wrapped in cellophane, the pungent fruit's smell leaks out into the park's generally fresh air. I've never particularly cared for its smell. In fact, at times, I find it outright repugnant. Its oniony, fruity, is-something-rotting? odor makes me paranoid that guests seated in the surrounding areas will have some objection to it. This fruit, durian is banned on the MRT and in hotels, after all.

However, seeing as trying durian is a South East Asian cultural experience, I've decided to give it a go. As I open the Styrofoam box and pull off the cellophane, a fresh whiff of it clouds the air. I glance around to see if my fellow park patrons notice, but nobody looks up. The durian lies in the box looking like shiny yellow, segmented grubs. This almost seems a surprise given that the tan outer skin of the durian is as scaly and menacing as a crocodile.

It's the moment of truth, I am going to eat the durian. A friend, who once tried it in a chocolate confection, warned that even the chocolate could not mask its overwhelming flavor. I bite through the thin outer coat of the segment. It's mushy and stringy with a now visible, large brown seed. The first taste is sweet and pleasant like slightly overripe pineapple. For half a second, I can understand why people actually like durian. They call it the "King of Fruits." It is used in confections from cakes to pancakes to shaved ice. There are even drinks that are made with it as an ingredient.

Then, comes a bitter flavor that has an acrid edge like vomit or bile. I swallow it down and the taste of too-potent green onions lingers in my mouth. I take several more bites thinking that it will get better. When I finish, the oniony flavor persists. It's foul and even after drinking a bit of milk tea with pearl, the taste won't go away. Even worse are the burps, which last for a half an hour. Finally, I throw the mostly full box of durian in a trash can at the far edge of the park, faraway from people.

Clearly, durian is an acquired taste - one I'm not likely to be getting anytime soon.




A "no durian" sign on an MRT train.