It's in the heat of the season, durian. Its uber-distinctive smell is everywhere, even in Manila, thousands and thousands of kilometers away from Davao where it is endemic.
The smell, the taste, is so forceful, as sharp as those spines sprouting from the skin of the fruit.
Ironically, the flesh - pulp - is pale, like butter, which is how it also tastes like, like garlic-infused butter, and the skin's color is also nondescript, relative to the bright-green skin and sunshiny-yellow pulp of the langka (jackfruit), to which it bears a semblance in taste and physical appearance.
When it comes to durian, people are segregated into opposing poles. They either adore it, or abhor it. It's part of the durian's mystique - such reverence, or disgust - can only be inspired by such a unique fruit.
The smell, the taste, is so forceful, as sharp as those spines sprouting from the skin of the fruit.
Ironically, the flesh - pulp - is pale, like butter, which is how it also tastes like, like garlic-infused butter, and the skin's color is also nondescript, relative to the bright-green skin and sunshiny-yellow pulp of the langka (jackfruit), to which it bears a semblance in taste and physical appearance.
When it comes to durian, people are segregated into opposing poles. They either adore it, or abhor it. It's part of the durian's mystique - such reverence, or disgust - can only be inspired by such a unique fruit.
*Blue plastic cord binds each durian for easier handling.
2 comments:
I had no idea you could get Durian in the Philippines. Though I'd like to think I'd be adventurous to try it, I doubt I could get past the smell.
It grows all over southern Mindanao. Some people don't mind the smell. I can label myself adventurous, but this fruit has tamed me.
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