Would you buy a candy if I told that the flavors hint of garbage?
Not a subjective hint like "I don't like this." But the objective smell of rotting, a slightly acrid taste that fades quickly into a sweet flavor similar to banana or custard. But never losing the acrid note entirely.
Durians are an Asian fruit whose flavors create millions of impassioned eaters. But those same flavors -- and more, the accompanying smell -- have caused durians to be banned from some hotels and public transportation.
I once watched two men meet each other over durian in the H Mart. One Indian, one maybe Filipino. One of the guys had discovered the frozen durians by chance. His excitement -- maybe it was his first durian since he had immigrated -- had broken the normal stranger shell, and they were bonding over their infatuation. They regaled each other with stories of durians until they realized that they were blocking an entire aisle.
The durian candies from the Super Grand in Laurel are your gateway drug to exotic fruit. Individually-wrapped candies with the consistently just a bit stiffer than salt-water taffy. That first taste almost seems wrong, but it melts into a sweeter, smoother flavor. Not as universally delicious as jackfruit, but it's certainly worth a few bucks and an experiment.
2 comments:
When I tried these candies a few weeks ago, I found the flavor to be rather like a combination of mangoes and fish, but maybe that's just me.
I was in Singapore last year, and one of our missions was to try durian. Trust me, it's not hard to find the shops that have them - you can tell from outside the shop. Think dirty sweat socks.
The taste wasn't too bad, and it did have a creamy consistency. But it was difficult to get past the smell.
And yes, there are signs in the Singapore metro with a cartoon durian with a cross over it.
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