Cindy Lam
Cultural Immersion: How to Bear the Smell of Durian
On the side of a nearby table, there is a large white cardboard box cradling something wrapped unevenly in newspaper. Upon closer inspection of the newspaper, I notice there is a collage of small tears, large tears, and greenish yellow spikes. My curiosity piqued; what could possibly be inside? I cautiously lift up the newspaper and discover a green, twelve-inch round object with spiky protrusions all around the outer shell. This was the durian, an exotic fruit of which I had heard occasional murmurs regarding its delicious taste and distinctive stench.
My cousin Xinyao comes over to slice the intimidating entity. As she cuts open the King of Fruits, I expect to smell refreshness. Instead, all I smell is a foul stench like no other; a concoction of rotting garbage, old eggs, and chicken feces. Not what I’d consider refreshing and appealing.
Xinyao approaches me, taking a bite around the seed of her own slice of durian. She offers me a bowl of durian flesh.
“Have some, it’s so delicious. It’s a delicacy in Southeast Asia,” she says, bringing the bowl of fruit up close to my face.
The stench burns my nostrils. I fervently shake my head and stick my hand out, refusing to have it any closer than arms distance. She places the bowl on the table I am sitting at. I dread this unforgiving smell. I’d prefer the watermelon instead, though now the watermelon might be soaked in the stench. I can not wrap my head around how it could be such a delicacy in Southeast Asia.
I watch as others convene around the table, eager to savor the durian. They seem unbothered by the stench. I watch in disbelief as Xinyao reaches for more of the egg custard- like flesh from the locules of the durian.
“It does not taste bad. It tastes good. It does not taste as it smells,” Xinyao urges.
Should I give it a try?
I reach over the table while holding my breath to get the bowl. I stare at it and eventually take in a quick whiff. My opinion has not changed.
Xinyao sits with me. She attempts to persuade me to try the fruit, saying: “You can't say that you do not like something when you have never even tried it before.”
Although cliche, she is right, and I give in. “I’ll take a bite,” I say.
I take my fork, already regretting what I said, but I must follow through. The tender, pale, and custardy yellow flesh separates smoothly from the seed. I only scoop up a small sliver of the flesh with my fork. While holding my breath, I close my eyes and try to imagine that what I am picking up is a cube of bright yellow, juicy pineapple. I open my mouth expecting to taste an atrocity, but instead, I am greeted with a taste that is not as notorious as the smell. It is an orchestra of flavors and sensations: a combination of extra ripe pineapple, banana, and garlic- savory, spicy, creamy, and sweet, all playing together to form a flavor that is unmistakable.
However, it then quickly dissipates, and all I am left with is an unpleasant aftertaste and smelly breath that would be unduly attractive to flies and pests. I open my eyes, surprised at the taste.
“So, you like it. I knew it!” Xinyao says.
“Actually, I don't really, the smell and texture are too off putting for me,” I reply.
Surprisingly, I am slightly upset that I didn't get to enjoy the fruit as much as my relatives did; however, I am glad that I tried it.
Sitting at the table, surrounded by cordial voices and laughter, I realize that the durian is not only a fruit, but a symbol that brings community together.
Here, the durian was the pièce de résistance among the other foods. However, it extends beyond the gastronomic realm. It is charged with a sociocultural power.
I take notice of this significance of connecting cultures and people together. It reminds us to look past its smell and to focus our attention on the broader and greater impact it has on society, stressing the importance of looking past the surface layer of the onion and not being too quick to judge and make assumptions.
Though the thorny husk may be intimidating and the smell may cause you to flee, its true taste is not what you would expect. Though I personally do not love the taste, I do not mind it.
We must think beyond our assumptions and get to know the fruit just a little more in order to appreciate it as a whole, acknowledging its uniqueness, strangeness, and exotic nature, and eventually, there will come a point where we will get over its stinky stench when we look at, reflect on, and appreciate its beauty.
Not many objects or foods can exhibit such powerful and significant contributions that form connections and immerse others in another culture; however, such is the case with the durian.
There are not many fruits that express such prominent features and attributes. The King of Fruits should not be avoided. There is no need to be intimidated by the smell or appearance. We must be welcoming and give it a taste because it is worth it. You never know. You may find yourself falling in love with this exotic delicacy.