It Came From Chinatown...

There's no denying that, during the last couple of weeks of ICFC, I've gotten off unarguably light. The Aromatic Fried Fish weren't exactly a trip to the zoo in a chocolate limo or anything, but they weren't horrible, and the Brown Candy was just that... candy; pretty tasty, even if Skittles or Reese's Pieces could kick it's ass and steal it's Air Jordans any day of the week. So, given that, I'd say I was just about due for a palate-whomping of epic proportions, just so I don't go all soft on you guys.

Kids, believe me, I got just that. Consider me whomped, but good. Without further adieu, I give you... The Durian:



What the fuck? Exactly. Here's a closer look:



Freaky-deaky, right? Okay, so despite looking like the testicle of some Lovecraftian horror, the durian is actually a fruit; one that's suited up for battle, by the looks of it. Those spines are sharp as needles; getting this fucker out of it's netting took some bomb-squad finesse. Not from me, though. I let Girlfriend do all the durian grunt work because I'm not exactly good with my hands when it comes to skill-based jobs such as this. If it were up to me to prep the Battle Fruit, there would be no ICFC today; I'd be in the hospital having some weird Chinese produce removed from what was once my foot. Which, admittedly, would also make for an excellent blog post, but I haven't quite crossed that crucial "publicly maiming myself for attention" line as of yet (give it time). Anyway... oh, I should also point out that this particular durian was about as heavy as books A-through-D of your lame, graduation-present Encyclopedia set.

Alrighty, so we've got a potentially lethal outer skin, we've got a weight that's at least that of your average Oompa-Loompa, and we've got an overall appearance that makes the word "ugly" go, "Man, now I've got to redefine myself; thanks a whole fucking lot, durian." So now, let's talk about the smell:



Even before we cracked the durian open, it was giving off an odor unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. If an apple, a banana, and a handful of gummi bears were melded together in one of Seth Brundle's teleportation pods, then left out in the sun to rot, you'd get pretty close to the way this thing reeked. Or, okay, you how when there's something wrong with your oven and your whole kitchen smells like gas? It was exactly like that, but fruit-flavored. And, keep in mind, this was before we even opened it!!!

Upon cracking the bastard open (again, Girlfriend did the dirty work), the stench increased tenfold. Girlfriend was lucky enough to currently have a head cold, so she missed out on the majority of the durian stink thanks to her plugged-up sinuses. I, tragically, was not so fortunate. In the past, I've talked about how badly some of the other ICFC products have stunk. While true, at least with the other things, the odor has been identifiable as something from this planet (namely, fish guts). Not so much the case with the durian. This was, in fact, my first encounter with a smell from outer space.

Here's a good look inside the madness:



The pale yellow, buttery stuff? Yeah, that's what you're supposed to eat. For real. Staring into the open durian was like stepping into the shoes of a character in a science fiction novel. Ethnic fruit? Nope, that's an alien pod if ever there was one. Using a spoon, I scooped out some of the lurid, slimy goo. I sputtered and coughed as I brought it up to my mouth; I could almost see the stink lines coming off of it like an edible version of Pigpen.

For the full effect, I smeared it across my tongue:

Holy fuck, guys. Seriously... holy fuck. It's creamy, almost like a custard, but with a skin around it like a thin layer of Saran Wrap. But I didn't really have time to be freaked out by the texture, because just then, the taste grabbed me by the back of the head and slammed my skull into the kitchen counter over and over and over until there was nothing left but a ruined face and an ocean of blood.

I'm exaggerating only slightly.

Yes, it was unimaginably foul. But the flavor was also maddeningly complex, like a calculus equation. Never have I tasted something so deep and with so many layers, all of which being a different shade of butt-nasty. It was fruity, of course, but a funhouse version of fruitiness that's all warped and evil. And there's a cheesy taste to it as well; something French and stinky and lined with blue veins of mold. The fruitiness and the cheesiness is then washed over with the taste of garlic and onions that have been left in the dark recesses of a refrigerator to get all damp and musty. And despite all of this, it tasted fresh! It wasn't an old durian; it wasn't rotten or putrid or anything like that. There was an unmistakable cleanness to it that told me one thing: This was exactly what it was supposed to taste like. My mind has officially been blown.

The reaction to having said fruit in my mouth was predictable:



But what caught me off guard was what happened as I attempted my customary second "just to be sure" bite. As I brought the next spoonful up towards lips, I caught another strong whiff of it's powerful grossness. And then, I came the closest I've ever come to vomiting from an odor alone:

Like any good war photographer, Girlfriend was quick enough to catch a shot of me in mid-gag. Which I think says all that needs to be said about my feelings on the subject of durian. Well, that and, of course, this:

Despite what I've written above, I really do urge all of you to seek out the durian and give it at least a cursory taste. Yes, it's disgusting, and yes, doing so will make you hate me, but no kidding... you've never, ever tasted anything like this in your life. And trying new things is what ICFC is all about, even if it makes you want to die.

Oh, and PS... I can still taste it a little bit, twelve hours later. See y'all next time!!!