...and, oh boy, are they NOT kidding about the smell. There aren't too many things available in China that aren't available back home, but just like the blah pepino melon and the rancid stinky tofu, the foul durian demonstrates that there just might be a reason these things are absent from our Pacific Northwest grocery stores.
Unlike stinky tofu, I am planning on working through the stench of rotting flesh in order to taste the durian, for no reason other than that I'm curious: according to the Grand Master of All Internet Knowledge, Wikipedia, the acceptability of the flavor is up for debate, and I always like me a good debate. But I'm waiting for the weather to warm up to the point that I can open windows, because I don't know whether the smell is prone to lingering, and I don't want to face the possibility of dwelling in a durian-scented house for any period of time.
On the left end of the crates are individual sections of durian. Each small (you can see the oranges & lemons nearby for size comparison) plastic-wrapped section is about ¥20, which is expensive considering I can get a whole, HUGE papaya for half that.
Unlike stinky tofu, I am planning on working through the stench of rotting flesh in order to taste the durian, for no reason other than that I'm curious: according to the Grand Master of All Internet Knowledge, Wikipedia, the acceptability of the flavor is up for debate, and I always like me a good debate. But I'm waiting for the weather to warm up to the point that I can open windows, because I don't know whether the smell is prone to lingering, and I don't want to face the possibility of dwelling in a durian-scented house for any period of time.
1 comment:
Hi Chelsea,
I continue to find your Blog fascinating. Not quite like being there with you, but almost. I've heard of those durian fruit and will be looking forward to the report of your taste test.
Love, Aunt Em
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