Meeting the King

Nowadays, eating durians doesn’t come close to what I remember it used to be…

Back then, durians were a true-blue happening -- akin to opening presents on Christmas morning, or chasing down a hysterical chicken in your own backyard and slitting its throat for the cook-pot. The whole family was involved, there was hullabaloo, and we would talk about it for days before…and after! When I was a kid, pleasures were simpler.

Back to the durian: unlike the artificial harvests of today, durian in those days was truly seasonal, appearing perhaps twice a year at most. They were really looked forward to.

Also, as types of fruits in the market weren’t so plentiful then, durian was king, and everybody loved it. My family was no exception. Usually, news would have “leaked” days before and the household would be abuzz. Then the day arrived.

Anticipation would build when the pickup truck, hired by one of my aunts, pulled up in front of the house. Off would go, Fourth Auntie and pickup, to the wholesale center. We would all hold our breath at home, and picture Fourth Aunt haggling and carefully counting out her dollars.

After what seemed years, the pickup would trundle in with an enormous bamboo basket filled with 30 or more durians. D20, D27, XO, etc, etc, didn’t exist in those days; the signboard would simply say “Durian…$$/kati…$$/each”. Price, and not so much grade or category, was the deciding factor in those less-affluent days. That was how we used to buy durians. 

So out would come the newspapers, to be spread on the kitchen floor. We gathered around, and one durian after another was taken out of the basket. The strongest member of the clan would pry and rip the husk apart. To a chorus of oohs and aahs everybody jumped in with their fingers.  The good durians would draw loud praise and appreciation, the bad ones, curses. The whole basket-load would be devoured in an hour, often much sooner, with the poor quality fruits put aside for other cooking purposes.

By feast’s end, fingers and hands would be smothered in sweet delicious goo, which was licked off noisily. Then every person picked a section of husk and used it as a “cup” for drinking tap water, as Grandma said it would curb the “heatiness” from eating durian.

With the smell of durian hanging heavy in the air, the fruits and seeds would be counted and noted. The following day the numbers would be used for 4-D, TOTO, or tontine (a form of illegal lottery).

If you lived in a flat, neighbours would enquire about the durians, their price and quality and so on, even though they had never been told about the feast. That’s because the smell would have permeated even the corridors, and your own body would have betrayed you.

Your breath would reek for hours if not days, despite your best efforts to deodorize it; and your pee would even smell of durian for a full day after! Sadly these days, the durian no longer possesses such “potency” in its flesh, and its eating no longer commands ceremony. Sigh…the king ain’t what it used to be.

With the not-so-good durians, there are ways to redeem them, including a number of jams, desserts, and cakes. I once met a Malay lady who had an unusual recipe for durian. I tried it as a sambal dip with crackers and fruits, and it was great, but I leave its use to your imagination! 

Belachan Tempoyak Durian

Belachan                   30g

Oil                               2 tbsp

Red Chilli                  10, chopped coarsely

Chilli Padi                 15, chopped coarsely

Shallots                     6, chopped coarsely

Garlic                         5 cloves, chopped coarsely

Durian                       10 seeds, deseeded

Calamansi                5, juiced

Sugar                         1 tbsp

Salt                             ½ tsp

Method

1.             Fry belachan over low heat until it disintegrates and becomes fragrant.

2.             Add oil, chillies, shallots and garlic. Fry until fragrant, about 3 minutes.

3.             Remove from heat, add durian and mix well.

4.             Add calamansi juice, sugar and salt. Mix thoroughly and let it cool.

5.             Serve as a dip or as a condiment during meals, eg. mixed with rice.

Helpful note:

Adjust the recipe to your preferred thickness/consistency by adding calamansi juice and sugar.

Basic Instinct

Along with sex, shelter, God, and happiness, food is one of our primal needs, and one of the things that’s always on our mind.

Well…at least, food is always on my mind.

I ate well growing up; there was always simple but delicious food on the table. I ate well in my profession; I was a publisher with a leading Singapore food magazine, then later with a Gourmand Award-winning cookbook company, in which I helped rejuvenate classics such as the Mrs Lee’s Cookbook. And I ate well outside of work, most notably with my foodie “kakis” in Hong Kong and Singapore.

Guess I had eaten well 24/7, for more than 50 years! 

After all, didn’t the Turkish writer Abdulhak Sinasi observe, “One should not pass over these things, simply saying they are food. They are in reality a complete civilization.”

I totally agree. Whether you’re just so-so or obsessed, food is a big part of life.

Food has shaped human history and directed our progress in ways we’re just coming to understand and acknowledge (check out the loads of recent books on this). But that isn’t my story. This blog is about food on a more intimate, personal level.

I’ll share with you what food means to me, my attempts to know it better, and my efforts to give food its proper due and place. Food as memory, food as nostalgia, emotion, imagination, desire, and dream -- that’s the message, the soul, of Gastronaut.

Just think of childhood. You may forget places, customs, languages, sounds, faces, and even names, but you never forget taste. A taste is something you instantly recognize though the separation in time may be years, or even decades.

A taste never leaves you. From the comfort food we crave for in times of illness and loneliness, to our choices in front of a restaurant menu, to the imagined delights that could make us drool in anticipation, food is woven into our chemistry and being.

This blog will explore and celebrate this.

And because I cook, you’ll be witness too as I gingerly probe, decipher, and trial-&-error my way through the mysteries of the kitchen. And who are my guides and resource? The distant memory and the yellowed recipe; the whispered advice of a dear long-gone aunt; the conversation with a chef, a writer or a food-crazed friend; the cutout from a magazine or newspaper; the inspiring cookbook or cooking class…

What I especially treasure are recipes that have vanished -- or nearly so. And with the inexorable march of the pre-packed ingredient, the shortcut recipe, and the indifferent cook, such “endangered” dishes will only multiply. I’ll unearth these dishes and write about them where I can.

For instance, while something like the dish below still exists, it is so little known that were it to die out, I think no one would even notice. I remember it from my childhood, from times when there was an unexpected guest, or when Grandma wasn’t in the mood to cook, or when one of us had lost his or her appetite. It's so easy to prepare (easier than instant noodles!) yet amazingly tasty. Try this “emergency” dish on its own or with rice. Enjoy!

“Savory Tau Hway”

Bean curd (豆腐花)             250g (without syrup)

Premium soy sauce            2/3  tbsp

Infused oil                            1 tbsp

Spring onion                        ½ tbsp

Fried shallots                       ½ tbsp

Sesame oil                           a dash, optional

White pepper                       a dash, optional

Infused Oil:

Oil                                         ½ cup

Spring onion                       100g, only white part

Method (for infused oil):

1.     Gently heat oil in a heavy-bottom pan. Add spring onion and fry until the spring onion turns light brown. Discard the spring onion.

2.     Sieve oil to remove any residue and store it in an airtight container.

Assemble:

1.     Place 2/3 tbsp of soy sauce in a bowl.

2.     Heat 1 tbsp of infused oil until very hot; pour it over the soy sauce.

3.     Just before serving the bean curd, add soy sauce with infused oil to the bean curd and sprinkle with fried shallots and spring onion.

4.     For a final touch, add sesame oil and pepper just before serving.