Don’t miss Tom Fuller’s IHT/NYT story about the quest for an odorless durian. My favorite passages:
“To anyone who doesn’t like durian it smells like a bunch of dead cats,” said Bob Halliday, a food writer in based Bangkok. “But as you get to appreciate durian, the smell is not offensive at all. It’s attractive. It makes you drool like a mastiff.”
And:
The litany of legends and myths surrounding what Malaysians call the “king of fruits” is long and colorful. The durian is said to be an aphrodisiac: when the durians fall down, the sarongs fly up, goes a Malay saying.
Not to mention:
Rarely does durian season pass without newspapers somewhere in Southeast Asia reporting a durian death. The fruit, which is rich in carbohydrates, protein, fat and sulfurous compounds (thus the smell), is said here to be “heaty,” and can therefore be deadly for those with high blood pressure, according to Wilailak Srisura, a nutritionist at the Thai Department of Health. Tradition also dictates that mixing alcohol with durian should be avoided at all costs.
And finally:
Many durian lovers fear the nearly odorless variety is just another step toward the erosion of durian culture. Durians are a social fruit, traditionally sold and eaten on the roadside by groups of friends.
(Emphasis mine.)
Note: I snapped the photo above in a hotel lobby in Kuala Lumpur last year. On that same Malaysia trip, with my buddy Matt G., I made the mistake of eating a large quantity of durian — my durian culture initiation rites, if you will — and then I consumed several glasses of beer. You cannot imagine the indigestion. You simply cannot imagine.