As it was a holiday on Monday, Sunday night felt a bit like Saturday. After a bright clear day of blue skies and sunshine, SW was fed up of studying, called me up and asked me to come home from wherever I was. JK was also free and up for joining us to do something out of the ordinary.
We had a number of options; walk around a part of town we’ve not explored before (but I felt it was really too hot for that), take a drive to Malacca (too far away for me) or go back to where we visited about 2 years ago, the dramatic lookout point at Hulu Langat.
I chose to go with option 3. JK said that he hadn’t been down Jalan Ampang for years and was most surprised at all the development that had taken place. We found that the lookout point had majorly developed into a popular hangout for the chinese-speaking fashionable Gucci shoes and LV handbag crowd, all touting fancy long lensed nikon or canon cameras with at least 2 children and husband in tow.
We ordered a pizza and falafel to share and sat back to enjoy the marvellous sunset over the Klang Valley. After we settled the bill but before we headed for dessert, SW and JK headed up to the lookout tower for some photos while I (exhausted from my exercise in the morning and early afternoon) waited patiently below. I was remarking to myself on the noise and light pollution caused by the lookout’s 2 busy eateries when suddenly, the lights blacked out and we were plunged into pleasant darkness, illuminated only by the moon. I am rather surprised that my tiny handheld nikon (not remotely comparable with the SLR monsters I mentioned earlier) was able to capture this remarkably serene and beautiful night scene.
JK and SW eventually joined me and we headed back down to our carriage, we already knew our next destination.
ARRIVAL AT JALAN IMBI
We found our durian stall owners relaxing in the usual corner, the sprightly mandarin chinese speaking wife sprung into action when we drew close. A table neatly prepared with just-wiped stools, equipped with tissue box and individually sealed water cups and straws were at the ready. SW and I never knew that JK was a bit of a durian connoisseur and had no qualms ordering our dessert in mandarin. As we weren’t going to have a feast, we felt that we ought to just shoot straight for the mau san wang again.
Now, if you’ve not had durians before, you might think that one species should reflect a consistency in taste and texture. This is not true. One mau san wang may and will taste very different to the next one, depending on the tree, its moisture, age etc. The ones SW and I like best are the ones with a taut superficial skin but a full bodied creamy interior which is almost like yoghurt that you can lick off your fingers.
Some people may involve their entire hands in the consumption of one durian seed which I personally find rather untidy. I much prefer using just 3 fingers which confines the sticky and stinky fingers and makes it easier for washing when I’m done.
Part of the experience of consuming durian is the sensation of the softness of the fruit against your skin. Its almost like a moisturizer on your hands but not too oily. I suppose we could compare the texture of it to a very ripe avocado with a similar colour.
While we were enjoying the privacy of our small durian party, a very large tour group from China suddenly appeared and practically mobbed the stall. Loud cries of “liu lian aaaahhh” and “zhe ge shi she me dong xi” filled the air and we were peering at the numerous backsides of chinese durian eaters who had to stand as there weren’t sufficient places to sit.
They reached over to grab tissue paper from our table and did not hesitate to toss their eaten seeds into our basket, but most of the ladies were more fixated on the mangosteens- which sold out very quickly.
As soon as they appeared, they also cleared out with surprising speed once their tour bus appeared, leaving us to eat our next mau san wang in peace.
We didn’t know that JK was a durian fan and both SW and I are delighted to have found another durian kaki. 🙂