I don’t like durians. Neither do I dislike them. Are you confused now? Did you only think that people only fell on either extreme – that they either love or loathe this creamy, spiky fruit?
My entire family loves durians. It’s very typically Singaporean. As a child, I remember sitting on the cool tiled floor of our HDB flat with my parents, grandparents, uncles and aunties. Someone (presumably my uncle) would buy a ton of whole durians home. We spread sheets of The Straits Times newspapers in the middle of the floor and sat around it. Someone would then bravely split open those spiky green fruits and distribute the quarters to everyone. We’d use our fingers to dig into the segmented husks, prying out the soft, yellow balls of creamy flesh. We would take a bite, providing our assessment of how each type of durian tasted, then comment on how we liked our durians slightly bitter and not so sweet. Because, as I would soon learn, not all durians taste the same. When it was all over, the newspaper would be littered with empty husks and the light brown seeds that we licked clean of flesh. This is only the first part of eating durians though.
As we know, there are wells in the durian husks where the flesh is contained before they are eaten. My mother would fill those wells with salt and water, and make me drink from the husks. Durians are “heaty”, but drinking salt water from the husks is “cooling”. My, I used to think, nature is really amazing to give us the remedy and the poison all in the same fruit! We would then run tap water over the green spikes of the husks and wash our durian-scented fingers under that water. Only then, I was told, can you get rid of that stink. As much as we ate durians for the strong fragrance it has, the lingering smell on our fingers was still unpleasant.
As I partook in these durian “fests” growing up, I never really questioned the craze around the fruit. Sure I would eat it, but I think I was more excited by everyone else’s excitement over it rather than by the actual taste of the fruit itself. I didn’t care for it all that much, it was never something I craved for and I never particularly looked forward to eating durians. I would eat it when everyone else was eating it because I didn’t hate it, but I would never miss it.
I grew to understand that I was part of a misunderstood minority. I was always told that you can only either “love or hate” durians. If I don’t love it, well then, I must surely hate it. But I know that I don’t. And I think it’s time we stopped stereotyping people based on whether or not they’re crazy about durians. When I talk to most durian lovers, they have a “if you’re not with us, you’re against us” mentality. Anyone who isn’t crazy over durians lies in the “i hate durians” camp; there is no room for a middle ground.
I’m here to say that there is a very small but a very real middle ground.
I will eat durians and I will enjoy it if I do. But two pieces or more is jelat for me, and I am definitely not crazy over it. I do not miss durians if I do not get to eat them, I never crave durians and most importantly, I will always, ALWAYS pick chocolate over durian. I neither like nor dislike it; durian lovers, deal with it that some people actually have, *gasp*, lukewarm opinions about your beloved king of all fruits, green spikes and creamy flesh. I simply don’t care for it that much.
Sometimes, people take your opinions too personally. They feel offended just because you do not share the same food preferences as they do. You get reactions like, “You don’t like durians? Are you Singaporean?!”
Really?
I get it. Singaporeans love food. But we have to draw a line here. You guys need to stop making food such a big part of your identity. For sure it’s an essential part, but it should not and should never be the only part of your identity. How sad would that be. If I removed food, who would you guys be then? Whatever happened to stuff that matted? Like common beliefs and and shared ideas?
Besides, how does liking durian even make you Singaporean? The durian isn’t native to Singapore, specifically. It’s native to Southeast Asia. We aren’t the only people who enjoy them, you know? Other Southeast Asians enjoy them too, and probably just as much as we do. I know it’s nice to feel special, to have a part of your culture that you feel belong only to you. But the truth is that it isn’t a uniquely Singaporean thing, so you need to stop drawing imaginary cultural lines.
(Well, maybe durian cream puffs are uniquely Singaporean. But not the actual fruit.)
Sometime in history, we adopted durians as part of our food culture even though it’s also part of other food cultures of this region. I suspect that we constantly say things like “Only Singaporeans know how to appreciate durians!” to make it feel as though liking durians is a cultural condition that only us Singaporeans fulfil. In saying that, we exclude other nationalities and cultures, which gives us a sense of reinstating our own identity and regaining a sense of belonging to our own culture. This is how we begin to feel a sense of pride from pigging out.
But hey, I could be wrong. After all, I’m not a durian lover, right? I’m not in your team, I probably know nothing :P
