As chance would have it, one of our new neighbors (by one I mean four) is Vietnamese. The other day Steve noticed an all too familiar fruit outside her apartment, and asked if it was durian. She said yes and that we should have some when it thawed. Durian was widely available and popular in Vietnam, but I'd never had any desire whatsoever to try it. Not even in that kind of dare way that makes you try something like snails from a street vendor (or dried squid from the construction workers across the street, or fermented shrimp paste sauce...the more I remember the less I want to). Durian stinks, really bad. Sometimes one would be cracked open at the supermarket, and it would literally smell like a sewer burst or there was a pile of garbage somewhere or something equally disgusting. The durian our neighbor had was frozen though - because you can't get it fresh over here. I guess it was because freezing it had toned down the smell enough that I didn't gag from ten feet away that I decided now was the time to try it.
And then I gagged.
Steve ate the whole thing, though.
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