A wished-for ode to the durian fruit

I bet Pablo Neruda, had he ever sampled a durian fruit, or sầu riêng ("one's sorrows"), would have written an ode to the common thing. To eat the buttery yellow fruit is a novel experience for someone from away, and it has inspired many writers over the centuries. It tastes like a dose of amber honey that's been cooled to form a smooth, firm but pliable candy. Every time I leave the house, I keep my eye out for a street vendor selling the fruit pulp, which comes from a head-sized, thorny husk. Picture yet to be taken!

Here's a rousing excerpt stolen from Wikipedia from the British naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace (one of Darwin's predecessors), writing in 1856, who goes so far as to call the durian "perfect." (I wonder what else he considered to have evolved to its final stage of enlightenment? I would guess an avocado.) And he calls it worth making the long trip over here. (I agree.)

“

A rich custard highly flavored with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavor that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. ...It is neither acid nor sweet nor juicy; yet it wants neither of these qualities, for it is in itself perfect. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat Durians is a new sensation worth a voyage to the East to experience.

And here's another:

Writer Mai Van Tao (who is this? I can find no reference to this person)...Oh well, someone once wrote, "The fragrance of Durian is a mixture of smells which come from a ripening jackfruit and that of a shaddock [something like a grapefruit over here]. It can also be compared to the strong smell of foreign-made cheese and is rich as a hen's egg. ...Those who have not enjoyed the fruit before may find it hard to eat. But once they have tried it, they are likely to seek it again.

The consistency is somewhat like a creamy cheese. In fact, the fruit, which is the color of egg yolk, would be lovely with brie and eaten on a piece of thin, toasted brown bread, light like a cracker. I will miss this fruit. (Like everything, it has its naysayers. I'm excluding them.)