Every few months someone sends me a photo of a durian with a bare, pebbled husk and asks whether China has finally bred the thorns off the king of fruits.
I distinctly remember the first time I hauled a harvest of Durio zibethinus—known affectionately as the King of Fruits—from our groves here in San Diego
You are sitting at a banquet table, staring at a mound of steaming Dungeness crab (Metacarcinus magister) and a platter of creamy, golden Durian (Durio zibethinus).
Have you ever wrestled a porcupine that smells like onions and tastes like heaven? That is the paradox of growing the King of Fruits. Specifically, I want
If you have ever walked into your packing shed and been hit by a smell that combines gym socks, caramelized onions, and turpentine, you know exactly what
Nothing divides a room quite like the King of Fruits. You either sprint toward that sulfur-sweet aroma, or you sprint away from it. Living here in San
Growing the “King of Fruits” here in San Diego is not for the faint of heart. When I first mentioned to my neighbors that I intended to cultivate
Have you ever opened a plastic container and been hit with a scent so powerful it felt like a physical slap to the face? If you are reading this, you have
Have you ever tried to lift a cannonball covered in pyramid-shaped spikes? That is roughly the sensation of picking up a mature durian for the first time.
The scent of a ripe Durian is unforgettable and polarizing. To some, it smells like sweet custard mixed with roasted almonds and sherry;