"Westerners do not generally become excited by the durian and
this may be due to not knowing how to select or eat this wonderful
fruit. It doesn't help that Western descriptions of the fruit usually
mitigate against the formation of favorable reception. It is a pity
that the authors of travel guide books are not more fair-minded about
the durian. Their descriptions are extremely negative and frequently
use scatological terms in reference to the durian. Hundreds of
thousands of Asian people do not see it that way at all and find such
comparisons insulting. Fine durians are so extraordinarily delicious
that it seems hard to understand that anyone could disparage them. The
great naturalist, Alfred Russell Wallace, who spent eight years
researching the flora and fauna of the Malay archipelago in the late
1800’s wrote that ‘eating durians is a new sensation, worth a
voyage to the East to experience’—and this was written at a time
when eastern journeys involved long tedious sea passages and untold
difficulties and hardships.
Because
of the inherent limitations of words, it is impossible to adequately
describe the taste of the durian. It is highly reminiscent of custard
or cake and after eating one of them one feels a sort of glow and a
sense of euphoria, an inner satiety.
(...)
Not only does durian bring in a significant income, it is greatly
relished in one form or another by almost every Bidayuh [ed. note: a
tribal people of Borneo]. It is interesting to note that no one
regards durian in a negative light; the Bidayuh are extremely fond of
this fruit. It is virtually unheard of for a child to dislike durian.
All the children, even the youngest, eat it with abandon. If it truly
was such a loathsome and ‘smelly’ item as so many Westerners
decree, how could there be such unanimity and avid enjoyment of it
among children? They simply take to it naturally and instinctively
because it is genuinely wholesome and agreeable. The Bidayuh do not
regard the smell as repulsive and heaps of durian are kept right
inside the living quarters. The only time that they are really
cognizant of the aroma is when they are out collecting. They have an
uncanny ability of finding durians which have dropped into dense
undergrowth and can't be seen. From the aroma alone they are able to
detect hidden durians and they can find and follow a durian scent much
in the manner of bloodhounds. How may one view or interpret this
aroma? Is it merely something incidental? It must fit in somewhere.
Perhaps this aroma is a sort of 'calling card' or a kind of
advertisement. Nature has endowed durian with a wonderful and
unmistakable aroma to insure that it will be noticed. This arousing
aroma seems calculated to invite animals to come closer and
investigate the offer, the reward being a highly delectable and
memorable repast. Of course there is a bit of a ruse at work. The wide
dispersal of the seeds is fundamentally what the tree must achieve. Durio
zibethinus
has perhaps gone further and put more into its reliance
on animals to assist in the dissemination of its kind. It has
developed a huge fruit with a very nutritious aril and enclosed that
in an almost impregnable housing which provides sufficient protection
for the seeds until their maturation. Once that state is reached this
attractive odor is broadcast announcing the presence and the readiness
of the flesh. The outer skin which once was so invincible is now
opening all by itself. It doesn't require much reflection to see that
this is an artfully ingenious design."
—
Jay Hersker, Hawaii
from
"Durian of Kuching, Part 2"
Tropical
Fruit World
magazine
November-December
1990
"The banks of the Sarawak River are everywhere covered with fruit
trees, which supply the Dyaks with a great deal of their food. The
Mangosteen, Langsat, Rambutan, Jack, Jambou, and Blimbing, are all
abundant; but most abundant and most esteemed is the Durian, a fruit
about which very little is known in England, but which both by natives
and Europeans in the Malay Archipelago is reckoned superior to all
others.
The
old traveler Linschoot, writing in 1599, says: ‘It is of such an
excellent taste that it surpasses in flavor all the other fruits of
the world, according to those who have tasted it.’
And
Doctor Paludanus adds: ‘This fruit is of a hot and humid nature. To
those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions,
but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food.
The natives give it honorable titles, exalt it, and make verses on it.’
When
brought into a house the smell is often so offensive that some persons
can never bear to taste it. This was my own case when I first tried it
in Malacca, but in Borneo I found a ripe fruit on the ground, and,
eating it out of doors, I at once became a confirmed Durian eater.
The
Durian grows on a large and lofty forest tree, somewhat resembling an
elm in its general character, but with a more smooth and scaly bark.
The fruit is round or slightly oval, about the size of a large
coconut, of a green color, and covered all over with short stout
spines, the base of which touch each other, and are consequently
somewhat hexagonal, while the points are very strong and sharp. It is
so completely armed, that if the stalk is broken off it is a difficult
matter to lift one from the ground. The outer rind is so thick and
tough, that from whatever height it may fall it is never broken. From
the base to the apex five very faint lines may be divided with a heavy
knife and a strong hand.
The
five cells are satiny white within, and are each filled with an oval
mass of cream-colored pulp, embedded in which are two or three seeds
about the size of chestnuts. This pulp is the edible part, and its
consistence and flavor are indescribable. A rich butter-like custard
highly flavored with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but
intermingled with it come wafts of flavor that call to mind
cream-cheese, onion-sauce, brown sherry, and other incongruities. Then
there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else
possesses, but which adds to its delicacy.
It is neither acid, nor
sweet, nor juicy, yet one feels the want of none of these qualities,
for it is perfect as it is. In fact to eat Durians is a new sensation,
worth a voyage to the East to experience.
When
the fruit is ripe it falls of itself, and the only way to eat Durians
in perfection is to get them as they fall; and the smell is then less
overpowering. When unripe, it makes a very good vegetable if cooked,
and it is also eaten by the Dyaks raw. In a good season large
quantities are preserved salted, in jars and bamboos, and kept the
year round, when it acquires a most disgusting odor to Europeans but
the Dyaks appreciate it highly as a relish with their rice. There are
in the forest two varieties of wild Durians with much smaller fruits,
one of them orange-colored inside; and these are probably the origin
of the large and fine Durians, which are never found wild.
It
would not, perhaps, be correct to say that the Durian is the best of
all fruits, because it cannot supply the place of the subacid, juicy
kinds, such as the orange, grape, mango, and mangosteen, whose
refreshing and cooling qualities are so wholesome and grateful; but as
producing a food of the most exquisite flavor it is unsurpassed. If I
had to fix on two only, as representing the perfection of the two
classes, I should certainly choose the Durian and the Orange as the
king and queen of fruits."
—Alfred Russell Wallace,
a great
naturalist who spent eight years
in the
late 1800’s researching the flora and fauna
of the Malay archipelago
(The Treasury of Botany, Vol. 1).
A dissenting opinion: Charles Darwin, who was a contemporary of Alfred
Russell Wallace, did not like durian, and someone wrote this witty
limerick:
The
durian...neither Wallace nor Darwin
could agree on it
Wallace said, "It's delicious"
Darwin said,"I'm suspicious,
for the flavor is scented
like papaya fermented
after a fruit-eating bat has pee'd on
it." :-)
Too bad for Darwin—
he didn't know what he was missing!
For millions of people
in southeast Asia agree:
"It's yum!"
—Ma
Bodhi Vistara
Perth, Australia
see also "Opening
a Durian" by William R. Stimson
