A Spiky Tale

I know some people do not like clichés. Due to the fact that my creative juice is not flowing properly today, I am going to start the entry in a very cliché mode:


I love durian. I wouldn't say it is my favourite because when it comes to fruits, I don't have any favourite. I just like them. Of course, they are some fruits that I prefer more than the other.


When I was in primary school, Tok Siah (my grandmother) would collect money from my uncles and aunts so she could buy baskets of durians. All the small ones would wait anxiously at her house when the adults went out to get the fruit. There were many of those moments when she was still around.


It was one of my fondest memories of her. Besides the rich taste and the challenge of opening the fruit (as if), the memories of Tok opening the fruit with ease (she was strong), making bubur for us or pulut to go with it, made me quite 'attached' to the king of fruits.


These past weeks, my mouth have been watering for durian yet again. I mentioned it several times to Amir, but both of us just don't know the trick of picking the right ones. Between the two of us we might get larva-infested durians. Yes, I know, yuck!


But tonight we are getting them. Looks like we have to trust the pakcik or abang selling the spiky fruit to pick the really good ones for us.