When you walk through fruit markets in Asia, something smells. The first few times, it’s a scent that’s hard to identify. It always smells the same, but the particular odor is difficult to pin down. After a few trips, you begin to realize that the distinct smell is emanating from a massive prickly monstrosity. Somewhere between rotten vegetables and paint thinner is a smell that can only belong to one thing. Durian.

Durian is a fruit native to Southeast Asia and the fascination with it is quite peculiar. Though it is sold in markets throughout the region — we saw it in all the countries we visited — the potent smell is legendary. In airports and train stations we saw frequent signs kindly requesting that people refrain from bringing their durian on board. We saw large signs in the Hanoi airport near our gate explaining that passengers should kindly refrain from eating durian on the plane. We could have sworn we smelt it anyway.

On my birthday, we ordered a durian cheesecake, expecting a plain cake with some fruit on the side. What we got instead was a yellow-ish green cheesecake that smelled kind of like the markets we had been visiting. What was most remarkable though was when I took a bite of the cake. It was as if someone had bottled the scent of a durian in the marketplace, concentrated the scent into durian extract and then infused the cake with it. My immediate comment upon sampling the cake was, “It tastes like it smells.” That was a bit more than I could handle in my birthday cheesecake.

One day while we were waiting for the MRT in Singapore, Chaz and I suddenly smelled something familiar. It was getting stronger and stronger. The unique smell could be only one thing: durian. Durian is not allowed on the subway system — for a very good reason — and we were shocked at the rule breaking. In the land of fines and authoritarian leaders, we were surprised someone would have smuggled the prickly fruit into the station. “WHERE IS THE DURIAN?” we kept exclaiming to each other. “WHO HAS THE DURIAN? STOP HIDING AND ADMIT IT.” Truly, there’s no way to hide a durian.

Durian on Singapore’s MRT: Price upon request

We kept saying that we needed to try durian for real, just so we could say we had done it. But between the scent and the prickles, we couldn’t pull it off. Our commitment began to waiver.

When we arrived in Singapore, we learned that it was durian season. We also learned that Vernie and her parents love durian. They were very excited about having us try one — how could we have visited and never partook in Singapore’s national fruit? And so after our delicious dinner at Lagoon, Vernie’s dad went to the durian stall at the nearby fruit market, picked out a good fruit and brought it back for us to try.

The giant fruit had already been sliced open at the fruit market and was being held together by rubber bands. We took the bands off and Vernie’s dad pulled the segments of the fruit apart. What lay inside was even stranger looking than the whole fruit.

The giant yellow chunks are actually three or four separate pieces of durian in a line. Each piece of the fruit feels mushy, with a hard seed in the center. The outside is glossy and smooth, but the inside oozes in the way that really only pudding can. Somewhat skeptical of what we might find inside — and with full permission to take one taste and then spit it out — we each took a bite.

There is really nothing I can compare the taste of durian to. It was almost hard to observe the taste at first because I was so taken aback by the structural and textural elements. The outside required biting, like a plum, but then the inside just sort of fell into your mouth. Chaz thought that if there was a fruit durian could resemble, tastewise, the closest match was banana. I don’t know that I totally agree, but I also just don’t know what to compare it to.

The British explorers who first came to Southeast Asia reported that they had found a fruit containing a rich custard highly flavored with almonds. The durian stuck to the roof of my mouth and definitely had a strong flavor, but there is no other food I have ever had that tastes quite the same. And I eat a ton of almonds.

Interestingly, though we had been smelling durian for weeks, once we started eating, we couldn’t smell anything abnormal really. Afterward, my fingers reeked. But while we were eating the fruit, it was nearly odorless.

One of the most fascinating things about durian is the whole host of health issues Singaporeans blame on the fruit. On our first night in Singapore, Vernie and Dhiviya had explained the principles of “heaty” and “cooling” foods. In Singapore, it is believed that certain foods cause your body temperature to rise, while others cool you down. It is difficult to keep track of which foods are which (young coconuts have a different classification than old coconuts, for example), but there is no messing around with durian. Durian is the heatiest of foods, known to cause excessive sweating and rumored to have even more severe ramifications. However, these negative side effects can be combated if you pour cold water into the empty durian shell and drink it after having eaten the durian.

It might have been the anticipation or maybe just the 90 degree weather, but I was definitely feeling warm by the end. I made it through one whole piece of durian. Chaz managed to troop through a second. Vernie, her dad and George happily took a few each. Durian must be an acquired taste, because they were all in fruit euphoria. It wasn’t a huge struggle to finish, but I can’t say I ever need to eat durian again. However, after all the smelling and all the hype, I am very glad we did try the durian.

But remember: no durians allowed on board the plane, please.