COMMENTARY, July 21 — I dream of durians... delivered right to my doorstep.
Which, you might ask, so what? There are plenty of delivery apps and food apps nowadays that will provide that service.
Frozen or even fresh, now that the durian season is in full swing (and depending on where you’re sourcing your fruit from, perhaps already past peak).
But it is not the convenience that I am rhapsodising about, though there is certainly that.
Truth be told, that’s how all tales start, no? The devilish protagonist searches for a shortcut (though he has been warned, like Hansel and Gretel, not to stray from the safer path).
Certainly, I could blame the weather for skipping a trip to the durian vendor: one minute swelteringly hot, then pouring cats and dogs the next.
Who would want to be drenched in undignified sweat or unseasonal shower when perusing the new arrival of Udang Merah or Golden Phoenix?
(Though, when the weather is just nice, like right after an early morning rain and whilst the sky remains cloudy, there’s nothing quite like dropping by the durian tent, a makeshift structure with rows of long tables and benches for customers to eat on-site, with the mountains of durians to choose from, the chopping sound of cleavers breaking open the King of Fruits, inducing an understandably Pavlovian response from aficionados...)
No, I am just lazy.
Yet the aforementioned delivery and food apps feel tiresome to me too, with all the vouchers and advertisements.
I can’t help but feel slightly unsettled after every attempt to order something only to find that I have purchased half a dozen other items I neither wanted nor needed.
(There’s no pleasing this one, it seems. Oh dear.)
So consider me surprised when I started noticing a series of postings on the neighbourhood bulletin at the start of the season.
Durians for sale! From family farms! Delivered right to your doorstep!
(Caveat: if you live in the same taman or thereabouts. Why, sir, I do!)
How’s this any different from buying from a durian vendor with his majestic tent or tapping away at an app on my phone?
Stories.
For when you buy from a neighbour or someone who lives a taman or two away, there is an opportunity for engagement (and I don’t mean of the social media variety either).
To start a conversation, even before the purchase and product delivery. Asking each other which street we stay at, where the farm is located, how old the trees are, how the weather has been affecting the yield this year, and oh yeah, did you notice them re-tiling the roundabout again?
It’s an awkward and amiable sales pitch and gossip fest all rolled into one.
I learned from one that he is merely making a trip to his cousin’s durian farm in Tangkak; bringing some surplus fruits back here to sell is win/win for both of them.
(And for us, to enjoy in the comfort of home.)
Another tells me that his family owns a durian farm near Segamat. Expect bitter-tasting fruit from 30-year-old Musang King trees, he said.
(Also, how lucky we are that our houses have gates; he and his wife have soured on the whole open concept given how pets and strays have designated their front yard as their communal litterbox.)
A third promises fat-fleshed Black Thorn, sweet but not cloyingly so. Velvety, custardy, nearly dark orange in colour. But she warns it’s the end of the season for them so this would be the last batch.
(And she adds, grumbling, how there are far too many tourists in her hometown these days. I nod, commiserating, sharing tales of the weekend daytrippers visiting my hometown too.)
We hear of a neighbour with connections to a farm in Bentong; there could be rarer varietals like the deeply bitter Tekka and the local specialty Bentong Gold. No guarantees, we will have to wait and see.
(We are almost entirely sure we know the same high school basketball coach in Bentong; the world is small, we agree.)
Which makes the entire season (winding down next month, we are told; some late fruits in September but that’s about it) full of uncertainty, wonderfully so.
Best of all, each interaction offers its own unique story. In a day and age where we barely know the family who stays next door to us, this is a beautiful and unexpected way to know more people.
More than convenience, this is us as a community.
Of course, it helps that the durians they have brought to our doorstep are delicious. Divine, I tell you.
I am dreaming of.... ordering more this week. Can you blame me?
For more food fables and café chronicles, visit Life for Beginners.
