Have you ever eaten a durian? If you have, or if you have met one and hurried on by, you might be conjuring up the huge, spiky fruit’s famous smell—or perfume—right now. I can only say, hand on heart, that durian ice cream is one of the best I have ever eaten or made (the other is pawpaw, Asimina triloba). One of the perks of living in a culturally rich megalopolis like New York City is that you have access to the world’s appetites and to the foods that feed them. Durians are often sold frozen at Asian supermarkets, either whole or packaged in naked segments. They are frozen in order to preserve the perishable fruit and to curb its notorious-slash-famous odor—or scent.

Ready for an adventure? You’ll need this delectable durian ice cream recipe.

Photography by Marie Viljoen.

Imported durian usually comes from Malaysia, Vietnam, or Thailand (the tree is native to Indonesia, Borneo, and Malaysia). You don’t need a supermarket to enjoy it, since it can bought online and shipped right to your door. If you live in Hawai’i, you can grow your own.

Travelers and residents of Southeast Asia like to tell stories about how durian is banned from public transport, hotels, and public buildings. Even in New York, a park on Manhattan’s Lower East Side bans the fruit, a measure that seems excessive. How to describe the scent of durian to someone who has never sniffed the fruit? It’s highly personal. I smell a medley of intoxicatingly tropical goodness. My husband smells garbage. I’m convinced it’s like the cilantro conundrum, now explained by science: The love-or-hate extremes are about taste receptors and are coded in our genes. So this missive is addressed to those already in Camp Durian and to those still in Camp Curious. There is no converting the members of Camp Appalled (and it’s not your fault).

The durian we see at markets in the United States are likely to be varieties or cultivars of Durio zibethinus, but there are over three dozen species of the tree. Connoisseurs of fresh durian (I have only ever tasted frozen) speak of wide differences in flavor between one variety and the next, as would be expected of any fruit. The texture of the flesh is exactly like custard. It’s as though someone did all the work for you—whipping the egg yolks, adding sugar, mixing in the cream, cooking it gently over low heat while stirring constantly (without curdling), and then infusing it with a blossoming spectrum of tropical fruit flavors.

A whole durian is intimidating and heavy. But carried home in its net bag and left to come to room temperature, a ripe fruit will often help you access its rows of custard-like segments by splitting gently at the tip. I use heavy oven mitts to hold it steady with one hand, while I slide a knife along each seam in the fruit, tip to stem-end. Once the durian is split, remove the custardy cases of segments and place in a bowl to eat or to de-seed for ice cream.

Durian Ice Cream

Males 2 quarts

Adding preserved citrus to the durian ice cream offers a light, bright counterbalance to the rich and dense durian flavor. I often have yuzu on hand (preserved in syrup), but fresh lemon zest, as well as lemon or orange marmalade, is very effective and as delicious, bearing in mind their different flavor profiles.

• 2 cups durian pulp, seeds removed (from one durian, but their size varies)
• 4 slices syrup-preserved yuzu (or: ¼ teaspoon fresh lemon/ornage zest, or 2 Tablespoons of lemon/orange marmalade)
• 2 Tablespoons yuzu syrup (omit if using the substitutes)
• 1 cup Half and Half

Check the durian pulp for seeds, and then purée in a food processor. Add the yuzu slices (or fresh lemon or marmalade.) Pulse until this has been incorporated into the durian. Place this mixture in a bowl and chill until cold—about 2 hours. When the durian is cold, transfer it to the frozen bowl of your ice cream maker. Start the ice cream maker, and pour in the cold Half and Half. The freezing time will vary, but my ice cream is ready in about 15 minutes (in a 2-Quart Cuisinart).

Scoop the durian ice cream into quart containers and freeze, or eat at once!

See also:

• Beet Hummus with Tulips: A Petal Party Platter for Spring
• Citrus Peels: How to Waste Nothing and Taste Everything
• Pawpaw: A Native Fruit that Tastes Like the Tropics