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When my friend Bob Halliday thinks about 1）durians， the tropical fruit that some say smells like garbage， he not only 2）salivates with delighted anticipation， but he also “foams like a 3）geyser.” Those were the words he used on the eve of our visit to an orchard north of Bangkok that was filled with these green spiky fruits dangling dangerously from towering trees.
I confess to the same passion with what must be the world’s smelliest fruit.
What is it about the durian？ Shaped like a rugby ball with large thorns that can pierce even the most callused hands， durian stinks so badly that it’s banned from airplanes， hotels and mass transit in most Southeast Asian cities.
Yet 4）aficionados like Bob and I will travel terrible distances， cancel important appointments—do anything—to scarf down globs of 5）custardy flesh from a durian. While many Thais like their durians harvested early so the interior is still hard and can be neatly handled， I like an over-ripened durian， which has the 6）consistency of cottage cheese. It’s a very messy affair.
It goes without saying that durian is a 7）polarizing and controversial fruit. There is a long tradition of durian haters who cannot get past the smell and gooey-ness of durian， especially among Western visitors to Southeast Asia. Simon de La Loubère， a French diplomat who came here in the 17th century and wrote with unusual empathy about the Kingdom of 8）Siam， drew the line at durian， describing it as “unbearable”because of its smell.
But as a foreign correspondent for nearly two decades， who has always sought to write fairly and dispassionately， I 9）dispense with objectivity for a moment and attempt an ode to what the Malaysians rightly call the king of fruits.
Yes， I freely admit that when ripe it can smell like a dead animal. Yes， the fruit is difficult to handle， bearing likeness to a 10）medieval weapon. But get down to the pale yellow， creamy flesh， and you’ll experience overtones of hazelnut， apricot， 11）caramelized banana and egg custard. That’s my attempt at describing durian. But words fail；there is no other fruit like it. Bob compares it to the works of Olivier Messiaen， the 20th-century French composer： complex， 12）dissonant， but with an overall impression of sweetness.
The first time I tasted durian was when I was posted in 13）Kuala Lumpur 15 years ago. Trucks piled high with the fruit would come in from the Malaysian countryside， and I would spend evenings sitting with friends on plastic stools by the roadside sampling different varieties. Unlike the Thais， who cut durians down from trees， Malaysians usually wait for them to fall. The result is a much riper and stronger-tasting durian， sometimes slightly 14）fermented. Durian farmers in Malaysia have been known to wear helmets： No one wants to be on the receiving end of a five-pound spikebomb. Malaysians also believe that durian is an 15）aphrodisiac. When the durians fall， the 16）sarongs go up， goes a Malaysian saying. We live in a time when chemists and cooks have joined hands to 17）concoct foods of unrivaled complexity， in everything from packaged snack food to wallet-crushing meals at Michelin-starred restaurants.
What I love about durians is that there is no laboratory needed to achieve the depth and range of tastes they offer. It’s one of nature’s masterpieces， dangling 18）tantalizingly in the jungle. Durians， even those harvested from the same branch， can be so 19）nuanced and dissimilar that tasting them is something akin to sampling fine wine.
Bob， one of the foremost experts on the food of Thailand， who has written restaurant reviews there for decades， said that durian reminds him of 20）crème br？lée. “It tastes like something that was prepared in a kitchen， not grown on a tree，” he said after sampling a particularly delightful durian.
Durian season starts in May and tapers off around November in Thailand， depending on the latitude. But these days orchard owners have managed to 21）coax the fruit from trees year round. They are prized by the Thai elite， who offer gan yao durians， a delectable variety with a long stem， as gifts to business partners or senior government officials. （Yes， a durian bribe.） One fruit can easily sell for $50.
Durians also grow in Malaysia， Indonesia， the Philippines and other parts of Southeast Asia. In Malaysia， the season extends until around the end of the year.
Bob and I recently traveled to three places around Bangkok to sample durian： a high-end Bangkok fruit market； roadside stalls in Chinatown， where durian lovers can get their fix year round until the wee hours o f t h e s t e a m y Bangkok night； and the durian orchard outside Bangkok， cherished by durian 22）groupies for its more than two dozen varieties and 300 trees.
Durian is a very social fruit， usually eaten among friends. But I confess that I have sometimes eaten durian alone. Like eating birthday cake by yourself or drinking a 23）tall boy out of a paper bag in a public park， it feels somewhat sad and illicit， which brings up another point. As any durian fan will tell you， durian and alcohol don’t mix.
With every durian season comes stories about people who have collapsed—or worse—when they’ve had large quantities of durian and alcohol. I have never read or heard of a scientific explanation for this， if there is one. But it is widely recognized that durian season can be 24）deleterious to your health. A few years ago， after a routine physical checkup， I was told by my doctor that my 25）triglycerides， a type of fat in the blood， were above normal. She gave me a 26）pamphlet in which the first piece of advice was to cut down on durian or avoid it altogether. But many of my fellow durian-loving friends are getting along in age， and it reassures me that， well， they are still alive. There are， after all， much more dangerous foods to consume than durian. 27）Blowfish comes to mind.
After a recent and particularly indulgent durianeating marathon， when we felt like rolling away instead of walking， Bob quoted 28）William Blake.“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”
当我的朋友鲍勃·霍里德想起榴莲——那种被某些人形容为闻起来一股垃圾臭味的热带水果，他不光会满心欢喜，口水直冒，他简直就是“垂涎三尺”。在我们去曼谷北边一处果园参观的前一夜，他就是这么说的。那果园里到处都是这些绿色的长满粗刺的水果，在高耸的果树上摇摇欲坠，很是惊险。
我承认，对于这种绝对是世界上最臭的水果，我有着和鲍勃一样的热情。
榴莲到底长个什么样儿？它形状像一个插满粗刺的英式橄榄球，手上最厚的老茧也能被它刺穿。由于榴莲恶臭非常，大多数东南亚城市都禁止携带榴莲上飞机、进酒店以及搭乘公共交通工具。
然而，像鲍勃和我这样的榴莲“发烧友”，会不远万里，取消重要的约定——做任何事——只为了能狼吞虎咽地吃下一团团软嫩香滑的榴莲果肉。虽然很多泰国人喜欢提前采摘榴莲，这样里面的果肉依然硬实，易于处理，但我更喜欢像农家奶酪一样浓稠的熟透榴莲。不过吃起来就要弄得一团糟了。
不用说，榴莲是一种两极分化、富于争议的水果。讨厌榴莲的人有一个悠久的传统，他们无法忍受榴莲的臭味和粘乎乎的口感，这种情况在到东南亚造访的西方游客中尤为严重。在17世纪来到此地的一名法国外交官西蒙·德·拉·卢贝尔，他曾带着不同寻常的同感心来描写暹罗王国，却也对榴莲划清界线，称这种难闻的水果“让人无法忍受”。
但作为一名从业近20年的外国通讯记者，在写作时我总是努力寻求公正客观，如今我却要暂时放下客观性，来为被马来西亚人尊称为“水果之王”的榴莲唱上一曲赞歌。
不错，我坦率地承认，榴莲成熟时，闻起来可能像是动物的死尸。不错，这种水果的外形像一件中世纪武器一样，棘手得很。但当你尝到了那淡黄色的、奶油状的果肉，你会体验到榛果、杏仁、焦糖香蕉和鸡蛋奶油冻的混合滋味。我尝试如此形容榴莲，不过还是难以言表；没有其他哪种水果能与榴莲媲美了。鲍勃将其比作20世纪法国作曲家奥利弗·梅西安的作品：复杂、刺耳，但整体感受却很甜蜜。
我第一次吃榴莲是15年前被派往吉隆坡的时候。载着堆积如山的榴莲的卡车会从马来西亚农村开进城里，我会整晚整晚地和朋友们坐在马路边的塑料板凳上品尝不同种类的榴莲。这里不像泰国，不会把榴莲从树上割下来，马来西亚人通常会等到它们自己成熟后掉下来。因此这里的榴莲熟得更透，口味也更重，有时候都有点发酵了。大家都知道马来西亚的榴莲农户要戴头盔——谁也不想被一个五磅重的带刺炸弹击中。马来西亚人还相信榴莲是一种春药。马来西亚有句谚语：榴莲落地之日，纱笼掀起之时。
在我们生活的这个时代，化学家和厨师们携手调制出了无比复杂的食物，既有包装零食，也有米其林星级餐厅里那些昂贵的美食。
我之所以喜欢榴莲就在于，它们所展现的味道的深度和广度无需经过化学实验就能达到。这是一种自然的杰作，就那么撩人地挂在丛林的枝头上。即使是出自同一个树枝上的榴莲，味道也会有些微妙的不同，品尝它们就像品尝好酒一样。
鲍勃是泰国食物的顶级专家之一，他写当地的餐馆评论已有数十年。他说榴莲让他想起了法式焦糖布丁。“它就像是从厨房做出来的食物一样，而不像是从树上长出来的。”在尝完一个特别好吃的榴莲后他如此说道。
在泰国，根据纬度的不同，榴莲季从5月开始一直延续到11月。不过现在，果园主们已经把这种果树改造成全年产果了。榴莲受到泰国精英阶层的追捧。他们把“长茎”榴莲，一种长有长茎的美味榴莲品种，作为礼物送给生意伙伴或者政府高官。（没错，用榴莲行贿。）一个这种榴莲能轻易卖到50美元的价格。
马来西亚、印度尼西亚、菲律宾和东南亚其他地区也有榴莲出产。在马来西亚，榴莲季一直延续到年底。
最近，鲍勃和我去了曼谷附近的三个地方品尝榴莲：曼谷的一处高端水果市场；热浪蒸腾的曼谷，中国城的路边摊，榴莲爱好者们一年到头都可以在那里解馋，直至深夜；还有曼谷城郊的一处榴莲果园，那里深受榴莲粉丝的珍爱，因为园中种植了超过二十个品种的三百多棵榴莲树。
榴莲是一种社交性很强的水果，通常是和朋友一起分享的。不过我承认我有时会独自一人吃榴莲。就像是自己一个人吃生日蛋糕，或者一个人在公园里偷偷从纸袋里拿一罐高罐啤酒出来喝一样，显得有点既伤感又偷偷摸摸。这让我想起另一件事。每一个榴莲爱好者都会告诫你，吃榴莲时别喝酒。
每个榴莲季都会传出关于有人吃下大量榴莲又喝了太多酒而病倒的故事——甚至还有更严重的后果。我确实从没读到或听说过关于这种说法的科学解释。不过有件事已被广泛认同：榴莲季可能对你的健康造成伤害。几年前，在一次常规体检后，医生告诉我，我的甘油三酯——血液中的一种脂肪——超标了。她给了我一本医嘱小册子，上面的第一条建议就是：少吃榴莲或者不吃榴莲。
但是我那些同样爱吃榴莲的朋友们都一年年安然度岁。嗯，他们都还活着，这让我重拾信心。毕竟，世上还有比榴莲要危险得多的食物呢。我头脑中冒出了河豚。
在我们最近一次纵情榴莲盛宴之后，当时我们像是滚着，而不是走着离开的，鲍勃引用了威廉·布莱克的名言：“过态非常乃通向智慧殿堂之路”。
I confess to the same passion with what must be the world’s smelliest fruit.
What is it about the durian？ Shaped like a rugby ball with large thorns that can pierce even the most callused hands， durian stinks so badly that it’s banned from airplanes， hotels and mass transit in most Southeast Asian cities.
Yet 4）aficionados like Bob and I will travel terrible distances， cancel important appointments—do anything—to scarf down globs of 5）custardy flesh from a durian. While many Thais like their durians harvested early so the interior is still hard and can be neatly handled， I like an over-ripened durian， which has the 6）consistency of cottage cheese. It’s a very messy affair.
It goes without saying that durian is a 7）polarizing and controversial fruit. There is a long tradition of durian haters who cannot get past the smell and gooey-ness of durian， especially among Western visitors to Southeast Asia. Simon de La Loubère， a French diplomat who came here in the 17th century and wrote with unusual empathy about the Kingdom of 8）Siam， drew the line at durian， describing it as “unbearable”because of its smell.
But as a foreign correspondent for nearly two decades， who has always sought to write fairly and dispassionately， I 9）dispense with objectivity for a moment and attempt an ode to what the Malaysians rightly call the king of fruits.
Yes， I freely admit that when ripe it can smell like a dead animal. Yes， the fruit is difficult to handle， bearing likeness to a 10）medieval weapon. But get down to the pale yellow， creamy flesh， and you’ll experience overtones of hazelnut， apricot， 11）caramelized banana and egg custard. That’s my attempt at describing durian. But words fail；there is no other fruit like it. Bob compares it to the works of Olivier Messiaen， the 20th-century French composer： complex， 12）dissonant， but with an overall impression of sweetness.
The first time I tasted durian was when I was posted in 13）Kuala Lumpur 15 years ago. Trucks piled high with the fruit would come in from the Malaysian countryside， and I would spend evenings sitting with friends on plastic stools by the roadside sampling different varieties. Unlike the Thais， who cut durians down from trees， Malaysians usually wait for them to fall. The result is a much riper and stronger-tasting durian， sometimes slightly 14）fermented. Durian farmers in Malaysia have been known to wear helmets： No one wants to be on the receiving end of a five-pound spikebomb. Malaysians also believe that durian is an 15）aphrodisiac. When the durians fall， the 16）sarongs go up， goes a Malaysian saying. We live in a time when chemists and cooks have joined hands to 17）concoct foods of unrivaled complexity， in everything from packaged snack food to wallet-crushing meals at Michelin-starred restaurants.
What I love about durians is that there is no laboratory needed to achieve the depth and range of tastes they offer. It’s one of nature’s masterpieces， dangling 18）tantalizingly in the jungle. Durians， even those harvested from the same branch， can be so 19）nuanced and dissimilar that tasting them is something akin to sampling fine wine.
Bob， one of the foremost experts on the food of Thailand， who has written restaurant reviews there for decades， said that durian reminds him of 20）crème br？lée. “It tastes like something that was prepared in a kitchen， not grown on a tree，” he said after sampling a particularly delightful durian.
Durian season starts in May and tapers off around November in Thailand， depending on the latitude. But these days orchard owners have managed to 21）coax the fruit from trees year round. They are prized by the Thai elite， who offer gan yao durians， a delectable variety with a long stem， as gifts to business partners or senior government officials. （Yes， a durian bribe.） One fruit can easily sell for $50.
Durians also grow in Malaysia， Indonesia， the Philippines and other parts of Southeast Asia. In Malaysia， the season extends until around the end of the year.
Bob and I recently traveled to three places around Bangkok to sample durian： a high-end Bangkok fruit market； roadside stalls in Chinatown， where durian lovers can get their fix year round until the wee hours o f t h e s t e a m y Bangkok night； and the durian orchard outside Bangkok， cherished by durian 22）groupies for its more than two dozen varieties and 300 trees.
Durian is a very social fruit， usually eaten among friends. But I confess that I have sometimes eaten durian alone. Like eating birthday cake by yourself or drinking a 23）tall boy out of a paper bag in a public park， it feels somewhat sad and illicit， which brings up another point. As any durian fan will tell you， durian and alcohol don’t mix.
With every durian season comes stories about people who have collapsed—or worse—when they’ve had large quantities of durian and alcohol. I have never read or heard of a scientific explanation for this， if there is one. But it is widely recognized that durian season can be 24）deleterious to your health. A few years ago， after a routine physical checkup， I was told by my doctor that my 25）triglycerides， a type of fat in the blood， were above normal. She gave me a 26）pamphlet in which the first piece of advice was to cut down on durian or avoid it altogether. But many of my fellow durian-loving friends are getting along in age， and it reassures me that， well， they are still alive. There are， after all， much more dangerous foods to consume than durian. 27）Blowfish comes to mind.
After a recent and particularly indulgent durianeating marathon， when we felt like rolling away instead of walking， Bob quoted 28）William Blake.“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”
当我的朋友鲍勃·霍里德想起榴莲——那种被某些人形容为闻起来一股垃圾臭味的热带水果，他不光会满心欢喜，口水直冒，他简直就是“垂涎三尺”。在我们去曼谷北边一处果园参观的前一夜，他就是这么说的。那果园里到处都是这些绿色的长满粗刺的水果，在高耸的果树上摇摇欲坠，很是惊险。
我承认，对于这种绝对是世界上最臭的水果，我有着和鲍勃一样的热情。
榴莲到底长个什么样儿？它形状像一个插满粗刺的英式橄榄球，手上最厚的老茧也能被它刺穿。由于榴莲恶臭非常，大多数东南亚城市都禁止携带榴莲上飞机、进酒店以及搭乘公共交通工具。
然而，像鲍勃和我这样的榴莲“发烧友”，会不远万里，取消重要的约定——做任何事——只为了能狼吞虎咽地吃下一团团软嫩香滑的榴莲果肉。虽然很多泰国人喜欢提前采摘榴莲，这样里面的果肉依然硬实，易于处理，但我更喜欢像农家奶酪一样浓稠的熟透榴莲。不过吃起来就要弄得一团糟了。
不用说，榴莲是一种两极分化、富于争议的水果。讨厌榴莲的人有一个悠久的传统，他们无法忍受榴莲的臭味和粘乎乎的口感，这种情况在到东南亚造访的西方游客中尤为严重。在17世纪来到此地的一名法国外交官西蒙·德·拉·卢贝尔，他曾带着不同寻常的同感心来描写暹罗王国，却也对榴莲划清界线，称这种难闻的水果“让人无法忍受”。
但作为一名从业近20年的外国通讯记者，在写作时我总是努力寻求公正客观，如今我却要暂时放下客观性，来为被马来西亚人尊称为“水果之王”的榴莲唱上一曲赞歌。
不错，我坦率地承认，榴莲成熟时，闻起来可能像是动物的死尸。不错，这种水果的外形像一件中世纪武器一样，棘手得很。但当你尝到了那淡黄色的、奶油状的果肉，你会体验到榛果、杏仁、焦糖香蕉和鸡蛋奶油冻的混合滋味。我尝试如此形容榴莲，不过还是难以言表；没有其他哪种水果能与榴莲媲美了。鲍勃将其比作20世纪法国作曲家奥利弗·梅西安的作品：复杂、刺耳，但整体感受却很甜蜜。
我第一次吃榴莲是15年前被派往吉隆坡的时候。载着堆积如山的榴莲的卡车会从马来西亚农村开进城里，我会整晚整晚地和朋友们坐在马路边的塑料板凳上品尝不同种类的榴莲。这里不像泰国，不会把榴莲从树上割下来，马来西亚人通常会等到它们自己成熟后掉下来。因此这里的榴莲熟得更透，口味也更重，有时候都有点发酵了。大家都知道马来西亚的榴莲农户要戴头盔——谁也不想被一个五磅重的带刺炸弹击中。马来西亚人还相信榴莲是一种春药。马来西亚有句谚语：榴莲落地之日，纱笼掀起之时。
在我们生活的这个时代，化学家和厨师们携手调制出了无比复杂的食物，既有包装零食，也有米其林星级餐厅里那些昂贵的美食。
我之所以喜欢榴莲就在于，它们所展现的味道的深度和广度无需经过化学实验就能达到。这是一种自然的杰作，就那么撩人地挂在丛林的枝头上。即使是出自同一个树枝上的榴莲，味道也会有些微妙的不同，品尝它们就像品尝好酒一样。
鲍勃是泰国食物的顶级专家之一，他写当地的餐馆评论已有数十年。他说榴莲让他想起了法式焦糖布丁。“它就像是从厨房做出来的食物一样，而不像是从树上长出来的。”在尝完一个特别好吃的榴莲后他如此说道。
在泰国，根据纬度的不同，榴莲季从5月开始一直延续到11月。不过现在，果园主们已经把这种果树改造成全年产果了。榴莲受到泰国精英阶层的追捧。他们把“长茎”榴莲，一种长有长茎的美味榴莲品种，作为礼物送给生意伙伴或者政府高官。（没错，用榴莲行贿。）一个这种榴莲能轻易卖到50美元的价格。
马来西亚、印度尼西亚、菲律宾和东南亚其他地区也有榴莲出产。在马来西亚，榴莲季一直延续到年底。
最近，鲍勃和我去了曼谷附近的三个地方品尝榴莲：曼谷的一处高端水果市场；热浪蒸腾的曼谷，中国城的路边摊，榴莲爱好者们一年到头都可以在那里解馋，直至深夜；还有曼谷城郊的一处榴莲果园，那里深受榴莲粉丝的珍爱，因为园中种植了超过二十个品种的三百多棵榴莲树。
榴莲是一种社交性很强的水果，通常是和朋友一起分享的。不过我承认我有时会独自一人吃榴莲。就像是自己一个人吃生日蛋糕，或者一个人在公园里偷偷从纸袋里拿一罐高罐啤酒出来喝一样，显得有点既伤感又偷偷摸摸。这让我想起另一件事。每一个榴莲爱好者都会告诫你，吃榴莲时别喝酒。
每个榴莲季都会传出关于有人吃下大量榴莲又喝了太多酒而病倒的故事——甚至还有更严重的后果。我确实从没读到或听说过关于这种说法的科学解释。不过有件事已被广泛认同：榴莲季可能对你的健康造成伤害。几年前，在一次常规体检后，医生告诉我，我的甘油三酯——血液中的一种脂肪——超标了。她给了我一本医嘱小册子，上面的第一条建议就是：少吃榴莲或者不吃榴莲。
但是我那些同样爱吃榴莲的朋友们都一年年安然度岁。嗯，他们都还活着，这让我重拾信心。毕竟，世上还有比榴莲要危险得多的食物呢。我头脑中冒出了河豚。
在我们最近一次纵情榴莲盛宴之后，当时我们像是滚着，而不是走着离开的，鲍勃引用了威廉·布莱克的名言：“过态非常乃通向智慧殿堂之路”。