A dive into durian

Eating durian in the morning on an empty stomach was hands down my favourite experience in Hội An, Vietnam and also in Chiang Mai, Thailand. It's a simple fruit but I would call it an undeniable classic.

The fruit is tropical but has the richness of a European dessert! Think about that for a second. And still, my mind tries to categorize it, but durian is quite literally in a league of its own.

Durian tastes like nothing else, and every attempt to describe it feels incomplete. First, there wave of creaminess, and then the texture -- somewhere between custard and soft cheese -- envelops the tongue. Caramel and vanilla at the surface, and buttery, eggy custard in the body. Tropical notes that feel like mango and jackfruit but more subtle. Savory undertones like a faint onion or garlic, more so as a shadow. It feels both fresh and cooked, like a pastry cream made inside a fruit. Again, the paradox is simply stunning, yet I feel there is integration. The aroma, flavour, sweetness, umami depth, even the faint sulfur all align. I get why the Malaysians call it the king of fruits.

In natural lowland dipterocarp forests, durian matures into a tall tree; it occupies the upper canopy and loves the full sunlight. This is what gives it the photosynthetic horsepower to fruit abundantly! And indeed, the fruit is magnificent and dominant.

Durian is native to ever-wet, lowland tropical rainforests and needs high humidity, well-drained soil, and consistent rainfall.

Seedlings, however, prefer filtered sunlight (rather than full), protected beneath taller pioneers. This is because in deep shade, they stretch and weaken, but in dappled forest light they root deeply and build the trunk strength needed for their eventual ascent toward the canopy.

Restaurants play it safe with dessert, you know, cheesecake, tiramisu, ice cream with the usual flavours … and conversely … artisan street shops tend to have more novelty. There is a lot of potential with durian.