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Anyone who's been to Southeast Asia knows what durians are. If you don't, read a bit at this link.
Durians are the source of a foul smell that pervades the immediate area where they're stored or eaten. They are about the size of a large pineapple, green, with spikes all over. When split, there are about 6 segments (like orange segments), each of which contains one or two seeds covered with a creamy exterior. You don't eat the segments nor do you eat the seeds. You suck the creamy exterior off and discard the rest. Think pomegranate seeds, about 500 times the size.
Durians are not allowed on the subway system, nor in most taxicabs, nor on buses or in elevators. The first time I was here, we went to an Indian restaurant which was on the second floor of the building. As we waited, I noticed a sign "No durians in elevator". Not knowing at that time what a durian was, I enquired whether durians were some discriminated-against group in Singapore. It took my ex a few minutes to stop laughing.
For years, during my first three trips to Singapore, my ex threatened to introduce me to durians, but never came through. Yesterday my host decided he would give me a treat.
We had a lovely day. First, BK took us to a vegetarian Chinese restaurant which was absolutely lovely. Real Chinese vegetarian food is renowned for the fact that each dish has one, different, subtle flavour. Then we went to the Botanical Gardens and particularly to the National Orchid Garden. It costs SG$5, but is well worth it. I have some pictures and will see whether I can get some on my website. They have an orchid named after Margaret Thatcher (among many others named after public figures). However, it didn't live up to its namesake: it was pretty, thriving, and colourful.
Afterwards one of those tropical thunderstorms came by: they sneak up on you with only a few minutes warning (usually thunderclaps), last for about 20 minutes, and then stop. Everything is dry within a few minutes. We took refuge in a café (Singaporeans love to eat and will do so at the drop of a hat. How they stay so slim and handsome is a mystery to me.) and then were told by BK that he had a "Secret Activity" for us. We took a cab to Chinatown and went to the durian restaurant.
As durians are very smelly (not necessarily rotten, but pungent) durian eating places are outside rather than inside. We sat at a table and our durian expert, Adam, selected three fine specimens. The store has lists of the sources of the various durians they sell, somewhat like the difference between Granny Smiths and Golden Delicious (a misnomer of an apple). The store splits them for you, and you bring them in a basket to your table and dig in.
I was dubious but resolute. I couldn't get this close without actually going through it. I took a seed and started sucking the creamy exterior off. How should I describe the taste--it is creamy in texture, and when swallowed leaves an aftertaste something like very weak but bitter coffee. It is not particularly sweet. I could manage two seeds, then had had a sufficiency.
However, the rest of the party (there were 8 of us) fell to with a will and devoured not only the seeds in the three we'd bought, but bought four more and finished them off. There was a debate about one durian (the verdict was that it was off, though how one would ascertain that is not clear to me), and another was lacking seeds in one segment: while some wanted to ask for a replacement, most decided to skip it.
After eating durians, one must wash one's hands at the convenient water-filled oil drum on the side. Those who are in the know bring particularly clean durian rinds (sans seeds) and run the water over the rinds then over their hands. This is supposed to be particularly effective.
So, now I can say that I have eaten durians. I suppose that had I been born Chinese or Southeast Asian, I would be as eager to eat them as my comrades were. As it was, I am told that adventurous angmohs who've tried them have just turned around and upchucked. I feel accomplished.
We then met our friend CB for dinner, at an Italianate restaurant downtown. Shopping, then to bed.
Oh yes, this morning I could still taste durian at the back of my throat. The gift that keeps on giving!
Durians are the source of a foul smell that pervades the immediate area where they're stored or eaten. They are about the size of a large pineapple, green, with spikes all over. When split, there are about 6 segments (like orange segments), each of which contains one or two seeds covered with a creamy exterior. You don't eat the segments nor do you eat the seeds. You suck the creamy exterior off and discard the rest. Think pomegranate seeds, about 500 times the size.
Durians are not allowed on the subway system, nor in most taxicabs, nor on buses or in elevators. The first time I was here, we went to an Indian restaurant which was on the second floor of the building. As we waited, I noticed a sign "No durians in elevator". Not knowing at that time what a durian was, I enquired whether durians were some discriminated-against group in Singapore. It took my ex a few minutes to stop laughing.
For years, during my first three trips to Singapore, my ex threatened to introduce me to durians, but never came through. Yesterday my host decided he would give me a treat.
We had a lovely day. First, BK took us to a vegetarian Chinese restaurant which was absolutely lovely. Real Chinese vegetarian food is renowned for the fact that each dish has one, different, subtle flavour. Then we went to the Botanical Gardens and particularly to the National Orchid Garden. It costs SG$5, but is well worth it. I have some pictures and will see whether I can get some on my website. They have an orchid named after Margaret Thatcher (among many others named after public figures). However, it didn't live up to its namesake: it was pretty, thriving, and colourful.
Afterwards one of those tropical thunderstorms came by: they sneak up on you with only a few minutes warning (usually thunderclaps), last for about 20 minutes, and then stop. Everything is dry within a few minutes. We took refuge in a café (Singaporeans love to eat and will do so at the drop of a hat. How they stay so slim and handsome is a mystery to me.) and then were told by BK that he had a "Secret Activity" for us. We took a cab to Chinatown and went to the durian restaurant.
As durians are very smelly (not necessarily rotten, but pungent) durian eating places are outside rather than inside. We sat at a table and our durian expert, Adam, selected three fine specimens. The store has lists of the sources of the various durians they sell, somewhat like the difference between Granny Smiths and Golden Delicious (a misnomer of an apple). The store splits them for you, and you bring them in a basket to your table and dig in.
I was dubious but resolute. I couldn't get this close without actually going through it. I took a seed and started sucking the creamy exterior off. How should I describe the taste--it is creamy in texture, and when swallowed leaves an aftertaste something like very weak but bitter coffee. It is not particularly sweet. I could manage two seeds, then had had a sufficiency.
However, the rest of the party (there were 8 of us) fell to with a will and devoured not only the seeds in the three we'd bought, but bought four more and finished them off. There was a debate about one durian (the verdict was that it was off, though how one would ascertain that is not clear to me), and another was lacking seeds in one segment: while some wanted to ask for a replacement, most decided to skip it.
After eating durians, one must wash one's hands at the convenient water-filled oil drum on the side. Those who are in the know bring particularly clean durian rinds (sans seeds) and run the water over the rinds then over their hands. This is supposed to be particularly effective.
So, now I can say that I have eaten durians. I suppose that had I been born Chinese or Southeast Asian, I would be as eager to eat them as my comrades were. As it was, I am told that adventurous angmohs who've tried them have just turned around and upchucked. I feel accomplished.
We then met our friend CB for dinner, at an Italianate restaurant downtown. Shopping, then to bed.
Oh yes, this morning I could still taste durian at the back of my throat. The gift that keeps on giving!
