The first thing that struck me as I walked in was that old familiar fish market stench. That special smell that makes my nose try to crawl into its own nostrils and hide inside my face. The second was this cheerful display of dancing popsicles:
At which point I immediately homed in on:
Those wavy letters were calling to me. Duuuriann. I've wanted to try fresh durian for a very long time, but have never had the opportunity, or a strong enough desire to seek it out. I've heard people say durian flavored desserts (usually durian shakes, or durian cakes) are a good way to gently introduce oneself to the unique and peculiar flavor of durian. I picked them up. More on that in a bit.
Meandering past the happy, fruity, pastel-colored chorus line of frozen treats, without any warning, I found myself standing in front of this:
That is actually just about a third of the full display. A cornucopia of unidentifiable dried meat stuffs and parts. And like the fish section, it has a singular face-smacking aroma all its own. I would've stayed to inspect it more closely, but I was starting to feel my post-food drowsiness set in, and I was worried about my popsicles melting.
We walked around a little more, through the candy, cakes, and cookies aisle. It's perhaps old news, but I never cease to find Asian snack packaging fascinating. They delve into the psyche in a [very blatant and confusing] way that American products do not. Sometimes in ways that can come in handy in real-life situations. Like, say you're going out with an acquaintance, and you're not sure where you stand - is this a date, or just a couple of buds hanging out? Just pop over to G-Dubs and pick up one of these:
It's a sweet gesture and a relationship disambiguator in one.
We also got some black sesame mochi snacks (no pictures), and these:
Jellies! A favorite of mine as a kid...and as a 27 year old grown person. Of course, I grabbed them. (Caution: open slowly and gently, unless you like artificially fruit-flavored jelly juice on your shirt and/or in your eyes.)
So, the durian popsicles. We got them home in tact, and I eagerly cracked one open. Looked innocuous enough:
Just like any old popsicle. (Not shown: the horror that lurks within.) It smelled vaguely pineapple-y, but with a very subtle "funk." First problem: in my experience, popsicles generally shouldn't have a smell at all. I put it in my mouth, and let some of the juice melt to get a good, but small, taste. I didn't know what to think, or say. I brought it over to M. "Taste it."
He, too, let it sit in his mouth for a moment, paused, repeated, and then sat silent for about 2 minutes. Then I tasted it a couple more times. And then we threw it in the sink.
I think the best way to describe the flavor in a word is "incongruous." Which is what makes it so perplexing. It seems that everyone has their own way of describing the flavor of durian, which I am sure is somewhat different from durian popsicles. In any case, this is what durian popsicle tastes like to me: pineapple, garlic, and camembert - in a popsicle. It sounds hard to imagine, until you taste it. And then it tastes exactly like that. I'm not trying to dissuade anyone from trying these, or actual durian. If these flavors sound like an appealing combination to you, by all means, go for it. For me? Gleh.
I'd still like to taste fresh durian someday, as I know the texture is supposed to play a big part in its appeal.
Someday. Not today.
Next time I hope to venture beyond the novelties and treats and spend some more time in the regular foods and produce areas. TBC.
G.W. Supermarket of Flushing, 137-45/61 Northern Blvd, Flushing, NY 11354
Jesse and I have a friend who is a hard core cyclist who happens to be vegan/raw as well. He loves durian. The last time we went to a BBQ he brought along three frozen durian from chinatown. He cracked them opon and we dug in. Consensus said that they tasted like a blend of raw onions and butterscotch. They have a noxious smeell, but I can see how one could acquire a taste for them.
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