hexagonal, while the points are very strong and sharp. It is so
completely armed, that if the stalk is broken off it is a difficult
matter to lift one from the ground. The outer rind is so thick and
tough, that from whatever height it may fall it is never broken. From
the base to the apex five very faint lines may be traced, over which
the spines arch a little; these are the sutures of the carpels, and show
where the fruit may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand.
The five cells are satiny white within, and are each filled with an oval
mass of cream-coloured pulp, imbedded in which are two or three seeds
about the size of chestnuts. This pulp is the eatable part, and its
consistency and flavour are indescribable. A rich butter-like custard
highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it,
but intermingled with it come wafts of flavour that call to mind
cream-cheese, onion-sauce, brown sherry, and other incongruities. Then
there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else
possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid, nor
sweet, nor juicy; yet one feels the want of none of these qualities, for
it is perfect as it is. 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.
When the fruit is ripe it falls of itself, and the only way to eat
Durians in perfection is to get them as they fall; and the smell is
then less overpowering. When unripe, it makes a very good vegetable if
cooked, and it is also eaten by the Dyaks raw. In a good fruit season
large quantities are preserved salted, in jars and bamboos, and kept the
year round, when it acquires a most disgusting odour to Europeans, but
the Dyaks appreciate it highly as a relish with their rice. There are in
the forest two varieties of wild Durians with much smaller fruits, one
of them orange-coloured inside; and these are probably the origin of
the large and fine Durians, which are never found wild. It would not,
perhaps, be correct to say that the Durian is the best of all fruits,
because it cannot supply the place of the subacid juicy kinds, such as
the orange, grape, mango, and mangosteen, whose refreshing and cooling
qualities are so wholesome and grateful; but as producing a food of the
most exquisite flavour, it is unsurpassed. If I had to fix on two only,
as representing the perfection of the two classes, I should certainly
choose the Durian and the Orange as the king and queen of fruits.
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