The King Of Fruits

Hell on the outside,

Heaven on the inside,

Love it or hate it,

You’ll know when you eat.

 

The hulking thorny beast,

What a lovely feast,

The divine custardy flesh,

Best when taken fresh.

 

Hailed as the king of fruits,

Aggressive it may look,

Seductive is its smell,

Though some say it smells like hell.

 

Incomparable is its rich exotic flavour,

Do yourself a favour,

Pluck up your courage,

And discover why it is the rage.

 

Overcome your initial feeling of revulsion,

Durians will become an obsession,

Haute cuisine to be savoured like truffles or wine,

Elevating you to cloud nine.

 

Believed by some to have aphrodisiac quality,

Though that has no proven validity,

Durian falls and the sarong comes up,

A mythical property of durian’s pulp.

 

Detractors hate it with intensive revulsion,

To them it tastes like the flesh of some animal in a state of putrefaction,

Eating it is a sacrifice of self respect,

The noxious durian burps they never expect.

 

Its scent is akin to completely rotten mushy onions,

That’s Chef Andrew Zimmern’s unflattery opinion,

Pigshit, turpentine and onions garnished with a dirty gym sock,

That’s what food writer Richard Sterling thought.