A Matter of Taste

Written for DeviantArt MiscalculatedKarma 5X3Comm March Contest: Food

A Matter of Taste

Sanzo was uncharacteristically sound asleep in the bed on top of the covers when Gojyo clomped into the room with his parcels. The Sanzo Ikkou had pulled into the little town in the late afternoon after a particularly long and difficult stretch of the Journey. They had been on the road for many days, and had spent several consecutive nights either getting no sleep at all or camping in the roughest of conditions. They spent several days fighting a number of battles, each one worse than the last, with a particularly difficult adversary who had been possessed of an especially vile assortment of minions, before they had finally succeeded in wiping them all out in one horrendous and climactic final battle earlier that day. They all were totally whipped, grimy, tired, and hungry, and rarely were they as grateful to see a one-horse town or a small local inn and tavern as they were to see that one.

Fortunately, there had still been two rooms with private baths left in the small hostel, and Sanzo had seized them, viciously slapping the Gold AnEx card on the counter in front of the startled young clerk.

“One night,” he growled, leaning on the counter tiredly with his forehead resting on his hand.

“But Sanzoooooo!!!!……” came the united protest from the rest of the group, assembled behind him, their chins dragging the ground in fatigue. They all had truly hoped that Sanzo would allow them at least one extra night to recuperate from the rigors of their recent travels. None of them were injured per se, but all of them were feeling stretched to their limits, and in definite need of a rest of more than one short night.

The gun came from the depths of the robe with startling quickness, pointed, fortunately, at the ceiling, but they knew what it meant and quickly closed their mouths, which had been all open, protests on the tips of their tongues. Even the ever-stoic Hakkai had a resentful glare in his emerald eyes as he stood waiting for a decision from the group’s leader.

“We already lost enough time because of all that fucking shit we just had to deal with,’ Sanzo announced in a tone that made it clear that any arguments would only be met with a comeback from the Smith & Wesson. “One night here and we are back on the road – that’s it. Like it or lump it.”

The whining trailed away behind him as they traipsed outside to load their belongings off of jippu and carry them up into their rooms. Gojyo came in first and stood beside him, looking at Sanzo with a mixture of hope and lust dancing merrily in his crimson eyes. He was tired, yes, but the erogappa was never too tired to want to take advantage of the rare opportunities for carnal pleasures afforded by getting the blonde bouzu alone with an indoor bath and a large clean bed in a private room. Just the thought of having Sanzo alone for a night had his cock twitching happily in his jeans, and he gave the priest his best come-hither, “don’t-you-want-a-piece-of-this” look as he stood waiting for Sanzo to dole out the room assignments. Their on-again, off-again affair had been escalating in recent months, but one thing he had learned about the monk was never to assume anything. But that unpredictable quality of Sanzo’s was one of the things that kept him coming back, and had him thinking about him constantly over all those countless miles they covered in jippu while he sat behind him, watching that damn blond silk of his flutter in the wind - he had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching out to touch it. If the goddamn prissy-assed monk had been easy like so many of the bar girls Gojyo bedded, the kappa would probably never have given him a second tumble. Well maybe a second. But definitely not a third.

Goku returned to Sanzo’s side, playing packmule, carrying more bundles and cases than anyone else as usual, followed by Hakkai who was carrying his own belongings and cooing to the frazzled-looking small white dragon settling around his shoulders.

Sanzo looked at the pack and bundle Gojyo was carrying and then at the massive assortment of burdens weighing the saru down, and then back to Gojyo, and raised one eyebrow accusingly. Gojyo shrugged nonchalantly and whistled tunelessly, winking at the young brunette desk clerk in an attempt to divert Sanzo’s attention.

Sanzo shook his head, unimpressed. “Goku, Hakkai, you take one room. Goku, put my belongings in the other room.” As Gojyo followed behind Sanzo while they all headed upstairs a grin was splitting his face from ear to ear.

Sanzo dropped back a step or two, and – sotto voce so only the kappa could hear – issued a loud warning whisper in his direction. “Don’t look so fucking smug, cockroach. And don’t assume anything, just because I get tired of hearing the goddamn monkey snoring. It doesn’t mean anything is going to happen between us. I just want a good night’s sleep, and to get the hell out of here in the morning.”

The morning. Hmm. That got the kappa’s mind to whirring… as far as he was concerned, none of them really needed to be leaving the next morning, it had been a long fucking haul, and a long damn time since they had had an extra day off just to catch their breath and do nothing. They deserved a vacation, and if it happened to be somewhere that he and the houshi had a nice comfy room together to fool around in, well, then, so much the better. But Sanzo, being the stern, stick-up-the-ass taskmaster that he was, was determined that they were going to leave in the morning….What to do?… There had to be a way…

After they got to their rooms, dumped their things, and all had much-needed and enjoyed hot showers, they agreed to head to the tavern downstairs for dinner right away, as it had been ages since they had had a decent meal and they all – even the picky priest – were starving. After a tolerably good meal for a small town boite, Sanzo bought a newspaper and trudged back upstairs to read and enjoy a little alone time while the others headed off to purchase supplies so they could – reluctantly - be ready to pull out first thing in the a.m.

Sanzo found the combination of fatigue and the full meal was making his eyelids heavy, so he decided to stretch out for just a bit, and was quickly sound asleep. The next thing he was aware of was Gojyo sounding like a moose on a trampoline as he bungled with the lock, made his way through the door, and came in with his packages. The tired priest was resolved to ignore him and simply go on with his comfortable nap when he became acutely aware of an overwhelming stench like a mixture of five-month old sweat socks, backed up sewage, and old puke. He quickly sat up in the bed, looking accusingly at the kappa, wondering what vile substance he had brought in with him to cause such a horrendous smell.

“My fucking gods and goddesses, Gojyo, did you step in a pile of dead cats or something?”

Gojyo feigned innocence as he deposited his bags on the table. “Whatever are you talking about, my love?” he smiled demurely.

“Don’t ‘my love’ me, asshole. What the hell is that infernal stink?” Sanzo stood up and unbelted and slipped off his robe, depositing the Smith and Wesson in the bedside table and the harisen on top of it. He strode over to where the kappa was now sitting at the little table and chairs by the window, and lit a cigarette as he stood and watched the erogappa unpacking the two shopping bags he had brought in with him. He noticed that the smell was definitely stronger as he got closer to Gojyo.

“Seriously, did you check the bottom of your boots?” he snarled. “Where the hell did you go shopping, the town dump?

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… you are always so cranky when you wake up,” Gojyo smiled benignly. He pulled the chair out next to him, “sit down and just be quiet.”

Sanzo waved his hand in front of his nose defensively and opened the window behind the kappa before he took his seat. “How can I help but be quiet when I can barely even breathe? Ye gods.. this is horrendous! Are you trying to kill me? Are you into necrophilia now – is that your kink of the week?”

It took Gojyo a second to process what the priest had said. He looked at Sanzo blankly, then chuckled and went back to what he was doing. “Babe, you’d even make a beautiful corpse, but no, that’s not what I have in mind tonight. First,” he pulled a ceramic pot of fine sake out of one of the sacks and uncorked it, “a little something to unclench that tight little ass of yours.” He reached behind him and pulled two of the wax-paper wrapped cups off of the bureau and poured them each a generous amount of the wine.

“Sorry I can’t serve it heated like it should be,” he apologized as he handed Sanzo his cup, and gently clicked his against the houshi’s. “Kampai, tenshi.”

“Tch… like it makes any difference when I am surrounded by this ungodly stench. I could be drinking battery acid and I couldn’t tell the difference.” He threw down a long draught of the sake and the burning trail it left down his throat and the exploding pool of warmth it made in his stomach almost proved his point. The next two and three pulls that emptied his cup served to bring a swift lightness to Sanzo’s head that he badly needed after the blood and death he had been surrounded by for the last few days. Unfortunately, it didn’t make the room smell any better. He wondered if perhaps a second cup would accomplish that miracle, and poured himself another.

Gojyo cocked his head and watched in amusement as Sanzo belted down the expensive rice wine. If he had known it was going to be this easy, he would have bought a cheaper brand, he mused. Shaking his head, he let the houshi get a head start on the second cup and then began unpacking the second bag. He pulled out a couple of paper plates, a tray, a spoon, and a sharp knife he had cadged from Hakkai’s camp cooking supplies. Next he pulled out two very ripe mangoes, and carefully peeled and sliced them, putting them on the first plate. Unable to resist, he slipped one juicy slice between Sanzo’s pale pink lips, sliding the slippery fruit around that tempting mouth and that sardonic grin before slipping it between his lips. Sanzo not only took the fruit, but surprised the redhead by returning his gaze with a leer in those violet eyes that would melt several inches off of the polar icecaps. He grabbed Gojyo’s finger between his teeth as he shoved the mango slice in his mouth, sucking on it and teasing it with his tongue. The kappa moaned softly as a thrill shot straight to his groin, and he immediately knew beyond a doubt the sake had been a marvelous idea and his scheme was off to a good start.

Sanzo was watching him intensely now, cigarette in one hand and cup of sake in the other, as Gojyo pulled more items out of the bag. He next pulled out a square white bakery box containing a dozen sakuramochi tea sweets – he thought their distinctive combination of the sticky sweet rice and red bean paste, surrounded by the tangy pickled sakura leaf, would be a wonderful counterpoint to the big surprise he had in store for Sanzo. Besides, they were so pretty, garnished with tiny sugar-glazed violets, and he tried to arrange them artfully on the second plate, although he was not entirely happy with his efforts. He thought they would bring a touch of class to the evening, especially since he was always so conscious of the difference between in social standing between himself and the great Genjyo Sanzo the 31st Houshi-sama.

“So I still don’t get it, cockroach,” the priest drawled, his speech already loosening from the effects of his third cup of sake, “none of this stuff smells bad…do I want to know what else you have in that bag?” He raised one eyebrow suspiciously and eyed the paper bag still standing upright on the table between them.

“Oh, indeed you do, my dear cherry-chan. What I have in this bag in a culinary secret that has delighted a select few fans over the ages that have been wise enough to get past its unsophisticated exterior and discover the delights that lurk inside. Those discriminating gourmets that are clever enough to overlook what it may lack in the … aroma department… and get to what it has to offer in the way of delightful taste, texture… Only the true believer can appreciate it fully… So, are you really ready?”

“Cut the snake oil sales, kappa, what the fuck is it? Chances are if it smells this bad I am not going to want to have anything to do with it anyway. What is it, forty-year-old cheese? Some kind of sausage made of rotted goats brains? Fish oil soup? Get on with it, man. I don’t have all fucking night.”

“Oh you’re so cute when you’re impatient,” he teased. “OK.. the answer is,” he reached into the bag and raised his eyebrows expectantly, and pulled out a greenish-grey oblong object about the size of a small cantalope, covered with small closely-packed treacherous looking thorns. “Taa-Daa!” he crowed triumphantly, “I present… the durian!!”

The smell in the room intensified the minute the beast was loosed from the bag, and Sanzo involuntarily recoiled in his chair a bit, both at the stench and its homely and somewhat threatening appearance. “Tch. Wouldn’t want to have that fall on my head from a tall tree,” he said, eyeing it carefully but not moving to touch it or get any closer.

“Yeah,” Gojyo chuckled, “they have been known to kill people, actually,” and before Sanzo could even say it, because he saw him opening his mouth and knew it was coming, “and not just by their smell OR their taste, so don’t even try it.”

“You’re telling me you expect me to actually eat something that looks and smells like that….”

“You will not only eat it, my love,” he said, nuzzling Sanzo’s leg with his boot,” you will love it.” He gave him another flash of his best “don’t-you-want-a-piece-of-this” smile, trying hard to sell him on the whole experience, as he got his knife and proceeded to dismember the fruit to get to the edible flesh inside.

“Tch,” came the dry and wholly unimpressed response as Sanzo raised one eyebrow and reached for another piece of mango. Gojyo slapped his hand.

“No! No more anything – well, except maybe sake – until you try the durian. You have to experience the whole thing. Sanzo, people have been eating and loving these things for thousands of years, all over Asia, from India to the Philippines.”

“Hn. People eat a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I have to. People used to sleep in caves and live on grubs and beetles. It’s called progress. You should try it sometime.”

“Now Sanzo, let’s not be judgmental. Besides, I have it on good authority that the durian fruit is an aphrodesiac. And also I read recently it’s loaded with this chemical called trypto-something – supposed to help you sleep. Now doesn’t that sound like a winner? First it makes you horny as hell, then it helps you sleep? What more could you want from your food? And it tastes like paradise!”

“And it smells like a shithouse in July.”

“Genjyo Sanzo, I am so convinced, I am gonna make you a bet. If you like this stuff, I get to make one wish, and you have to grant it. I promise I will be reasonable. And if you really don’t like it, you can wish for whatever you want that I can do for you and I will do it… no bitching or whining, I promise. And knowing you, I realize that could get me into a lot of trouble. But you have to be honest. Deal?”

Gojyo had opened up the fruit and Sanzo saw the custardy yellow snotty looking stuff inside. The smell was increasing geometrically now that the damned thing had actually been cut into. He couldn’t imagine it possibly being anything he would actually enjoy the taste of, so he figured he would have to be safe taking the bet. He thought about all the sexual things he could have the kappa do to him if he won the bet, then he considered even better possibilities… he could do something like tell him that he had to ride silently in the jeep for a month – no fights with the saru, no constant smartass jibes… a chance at that was too good to pass up. A small but distinctly wicked smile spread across Sanzo’s face.

“Ok, kappa, deal.”

Gojyo grinned like the cat stealing the cream and continued to dismember the durian, placing the sections of the custardy gold flesh on the third and last paper plate. When he had all of the sections out of the hull, he collected all the plates onto the tray, along with the sake pot and their cups, and a couple of napkins he had also filched from Hakkai. He stood, looking expectantly at Sanzo and waggling his eyebrows.

“I vote we move this feast to the bed, how about you?” He turned off all but the small bedside lamp, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, and double locked it to avoid premature monkey intrusions in the morning. Fortunately he had alerted Hakkai to his plans, and he wasn’t too worried about interruptions – he felt fairly confident his friend would at if at all possible restrain the bakasaru and wait for word from them before making any moves in the morning.

“Overconfident much?” Sanzo groused as he stripped his clothes off and made his way over to the bed. “You realize if you lose, my wish could be that I never have to see your naked ass for or deal with your foul flirting mouth for a whole year…?” He knew the very concept would absolutely torment the erogappa.

Gojyo quickly placed the tray on the table on his side of the bed, grasped at his heart as if mortally wounded by a huge arrow, and fell to the bed clutching his chest and gasping.

“Gods you really know how to hurt a guy’s pride,” he moaned, looking up at Sanzo, “but you’ll be talking out of the other side of your mouth when you lose this bet… especially when the aphrodisiac effect of this stuff starts setting in.”

Actually he had only heard of it being considered a sexual stimulant in one country, but he figured what the hell, it was worth the try. And who knew? It could be true… He sat up and took off his boots and the rest of his clothes and sat back down, placing the tray of food in front of them on the bed.

When he turned to face Sanzo he was startled to see that the priest was looking at him with his eyes somewhat hooded now, with that darkened narrowed look his eyes only got when he was either drunk or horny or both. Knowing the monk’s capacity for alcohol, and that he had only had three cups of sake, even if they were somewhat generous cups, Gojyo’s throat constricted and he got that flutter in his chest that he always got when he knew he was about to have that first contact with the houshi, about to cross the physical distance between them and attempt to breach the considerable walls Sanzo always kept wrapped around himself like a warm blanket on a frosty day.

“Thank you for letting me stay in your room, tenshi,” he murmured as he took Sanzo’s chin in his hand and pulled his lips to his own. They brushed together dryly at first, and even that whisper of contact made his pulse race and jump. He wet his lips and threaded his fingers into Sanzo’s golden silk, pulling his face closer now and angling his own head to allow him to really kiss this man he loved so much to kiss, that he thought about kissing so often. Sanzo sighed into his mouth and teased at his lips with the tip of his tongue, which was all Gojyo needed by way of encouragement to pull them closer together still and seek out the warm velvet of his houshi’s mouth with his own tongue, exploring and encouraging until Sanzo returned the favor.

The fervor of their embrace escalated quickly until Gojyo forced himself to stop, breaking the kiss, his hand on the priest’s chest, gently pushing him away as he longingly stroked the pale skin overlaying the muscles of Sanzo’s chest and shoulders with his splayed fingers.

Breathing heavily he laughed at himself, “I almost forfeited that game before I even hit the field! You have that effect on me, cherry-chan. But first we eat, then we fool around. Remember the deal. And trust me you will enjoy both, I promise.”

Sanzo groaned and fell back on the pillows piled against the headboard. “I hope I don’t end up regretting this…”

Gojyo grinned, “I thought I told you to trust me. Now here, some mango first, and here is your sake, don’t want you to get all thirsty on me.” He gave him his wine and slipped another juicy slice of the peach-colored fruit between his lips, this time taking the opportunity to lick the juice off that dribbled down Sanzo’s chin, and having a slice himself. “Now a sakuramochi…” He held the sweet up to Sanzo’s mouth and watched in rapture as half of it disappeared between his pale pink lips, seized and bitten by his even white teeth. The blonde made an involuntary “mmmm” sound as he chewed and enjoyed the complex flavors of the tea sweet.

“Now let’s have a sip of sake, then you can have your first taste of durian, ok?”

“Hnnn,” Sanzo grumbled, and drank a long drink of sake, steeling himself. He watched as the kappa took the spoon and dug it into one of the compartments of the golden flesh on the plate. The smell really was horrendous… he failed to see how something that smelled that bad could possibly taste good, or even…less than horrible.

Gojyo saw the mortified expression on the priest’s face as he scooped out a spoonful of the custardly flesh, loosing even more of the ungodly stench on the room. “Ok, would it help if you saw me eat it first? Watch, see?” He popped a huge spoonful of the substance in his mouth and slowly pulled the spoon out, his eyes rolling back in his head, making sounds Sanzo had only heard him make in one other situation, and it had nothing to do with food.

Sanzo quickly considered the angles of the situation, wondering how it could possibly benefit the kappa to make him eat something that seemed so ungodly nasty, and risk losing the bet so badly. Could it really be that something that smelled so much like bodily functions – unpleasant bodily functions- OLD deteriorated bodily functions—could actually taste… good? What did he have to gain from fooling him? He watched the kappa pull the spoon out of his mouth and open his eyes and smile at him.

“See? Wonderful stuff. Food of the gods. Greatest culinary secret of the East. You ready to try it now?”

Still slightly reluctant, he raised one eyebrow. “Ok, what does it taste like?”

“What does it taste like? Hmm. Well, it tastes like… durians. Uhmmm… Ok, well, I guess a little like almonds, and a little like really strong cheese, and a little like a sweet custard… and, oh fuck, Sanzo, it’s hard to explain. Bloody hell, I’ve seen you face down centipede demons with less hesitation than this. Just taste it!”

“Oh, holy crap…” He did have a point. “Alright, but remember, if I don’t like it….”

“I know, I know, whatever your wish is…. But you have to be honest. You have to really, truly not like it.”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m a fucking Sanzo priest… don’t you think you can trust me to tell the truth?”

“Yeah, well…” Gojyo scooped a smaller amount of durian flesh onto the spoon and held it before Sanzo’s mouth.

The smell hit his nose first and his head yanked back out of reflex. An image of ten thousand dirty sweatsocks crammed into a plastic bag and unearthed from their burial on a hot August day ran through his head. Ok, he told himself, one mouthful and you have the bet, just fucking get it over with.

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth and closed it over the spoon, feeling the custardy slick-smooth durian flesh on his tongue. It was like all of his taste buds exploded at once, and at first he wanted to gag and spit it out, but when that passed, he rolled it around in his mouth, and the complexity and subtlety of the flavor began to grow on him. He could really taste the almond, and the sweet, and a hundred other flavors that Gojyo hadn’t even mentioned. Sure it was strong, but so was sake, so was wasabi, so were a lot of things that he liked. He opened his eyes and looked at the kappa and a slow grin spread across his face, in spite of himself.

“See,” Gojyo cackled with glee, “see? I told you! I fucking told you! It’s damn good, isn’t it?! Now have some mango and then I will give you another spoonful!”

“Tch,” Sanzo replied, trying his best to appear totally nonchalant in his best frosty tone, “I’ve tasted much worse than that coming out of you…”

“Yeah, well, you just …. You what!!!” For once Gojyo had truly been caught off guard by Sanzo’s off-color remark and his less-than-oblique reference to their sex life. He looked at the priest in total shock for a moment, then his eyes narrowed, and he began slowly moving towards Sanzo in a feral crouch.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that one, I don’t care if you are the ‘Great Genjyo Sanzo the 31st whozi whatsis whatever’… !! You wanna taste it? You wanna taste it?”

He proceeded to smear the durian flesh on himself and wrestle a certain priest into a position where he got to sample his second taste of durian in a manner that he would guess that few people partook of it, aphrodesiac or not. Soon the mango was pressed into service in some interesting ways as well, and the remainder of the sake pot was consumed, as long with the better part of another pot that materialized out of Gojyo’s magic shopping bags.

Much, much later as the dawn was shooing the last of the stars out of the sky, Sanzo and Gojyo lay nestled together in one very messy, smelly bed. They were finishing the last drops of sake, and feeding each other the last of the sakuramochi, having long ago polished of the mango and durian in various unspeakable fashions.

Gojyo snickered out loud suddenly, and Sanzo looked at him questioningly.

“I think we are going to have to give the maid here a really, really big tip,” he giggled.

Sanzo surveyed the bed and the damage to the room in general, not to mention the aroma of durians and sex permeating the place.

“Tch... we’ll add it to the AnEx Card. They owe me,” he said dryly, thinking of all the things he would like to say to the Talking Heads about this little journey of theirs. Then all of a sudden it hit him. Oh blue holy fuck. Maybe he could get out of it somehow…. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Oh crap on toast. Well, better to find out and get it over with.

“Gojyo, the bet. What is it that you want? Go ahead and tell me.”

“Hell, Sanzo, don’t sound like you are going to an execution, don’t you trust me at all yet?”

The condemned man has his last cigarette. Sanzo lit his. “Tch. No, not really, not with this kind of power. Not much. Go ahead and get it over with. Tell me now. What do you want?”

“Well, Sanzo….” he grinned, drawing it out now, “since you DID lose the bet after all, and the deal was that I could ask for anything that I wanted that you could give me…”

He trailed his hand lightly up and down Sanzo’s sticky chest, picking up a stray sliver of mango and popping it in his mouth thoughtfully. “I mean within reason, I know I can’t ask for the moon and the stars, y’know, I know better than to ask for anything too unreasonable, I wouldn’t do that to you, I’m not that stupid, but I WAS thinking, just maybe, possibly…”

“GOJYO, for godssakes! Get on with it!”

He put down his cup and snaked his arms around his gorgeous blonde lover, and nestled his face in the warm hollow of the crook of his neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent that was pure Sanzo as it persisted over the commingled smells of mango and durian and cigarettes and sake and sex. He kissed his way up his neck in little bites and nibbles, and dragged the point of his tongue around the edge of the shell of Sanzo’s ear before he spoke into it in his throatiest whisper.

“It’s really very simple, love. I just want two more nights like this, here, with you, in this room.” Then he purred, “and wait till you see what I have planned for nights number two and three.”

“But we need to get back on….!” Sanzo stopped himself. Not only did he know he was defeated, but he also knew why the kappa had engineered this. It wasn’t just for himself, as much as he knew the kappa loved having time alone with him. Sanzo knew he had been driving everybody too hard and they really needed the break, and this was Gojyo’s way of helping him see that, of making it happen without Sanzo losing face. For in the strange world of men’s pride and vanity, losing a bet was much more understandable and acceptable than reversing a command decision, and they both understood that.

Sanzo sighed and bowed to the inevitability of it. Then another thought occurred to him.

“Gojyo, what would you have done if you had lost? There was a real good chance I wouldn’t have liked those damn things. I mean –gods and goddesses - the smell….”

Gojyo continued his fascination with Sanzo’s neck and ears, and answered him in a distracted tone. His hand was beginning to wander and tease around Sanzo’s chest and belly, making it clear that sleep was not on the agenda at all any time soon.

“Hmmm? Oh that? Oh, I had that all figured out, too… Hakkai is allergic to durians… If we got within five feet of him within two or three days of eating the damn things, much less after what we’ve been doing, he wouldn’t be able to ride in the jippu with us, much less drive it. He’d be swelling up and sneezing his damn head off. Hehehe…” His dirty laugh morphed into a growl as he kissed a steady trail to Sanzo’s pale nipples and on southward to a sticky smelly paradise.

~owari~
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About Durians, for those who are interested
The durian is a fruit native to Southeast Asia, of the same family as okra, cotton, and hibiscus. Known as the "King of Fruits," the large (up to 12 in/30cm) and heavy 2-7lb/1-3kg) fruits are covered by a thorn-covered green to brown husk, the shape ranges from oblong to round. The edible soft custardy flesh within emits a distinctive odor, which is regarded as either fragrant or overpowering and offensive. Even when the husk of the fruit is still intact, the odour of the ripe fruit is very strong and penetrating. This unusual odor has prompted many people to formulate evocative descriptions, with views ranging from those of deep appreciation to intense disgust. It is regarded by some Southeast Asian peoples as an aphrodesiac food, and it is a naturally high source of l-trytophan, an essential amino acid that is generally believed to be a natural sleep inducer (same thing that is in the Thanksgiving turkey that makes everyone sleepy.) L-tryptophan is also a precursor form of a neurotransmitters and there is research indicating it can be effectively used in combatting depression. (Gojyo may have been even smarter than he knew! ~_^ )

Durians are so ‘fragrant’ that they are banned from many modes of public transport throughout Asia, and it is not uncommon in hotels to see “No Durian” signage, a silhouette of a durian beneath the familiar red circle and slash, in hotel lobbies. (information adapted from Wikipedia entry and other online research)

In a “No Reservations” episode during a trip to Indonesia, Anthony Bourdain dug into a durian with great gusto, noting as he did that it was “hot” in a very turned on voice. He did however, also note that it also gave you breath “like you had been french-kissing your dead grandmother” and added that the durian was a treat that was best enjoyed alone. My extrapolation from this is that maybe it would be best enjoyed alone, unless of course you could enjoy it with another durian lover, in which case you would have the best of both worlds.

Apparently on an episode of “Bizarre Foods” durian fruit was one of the few things that Andrew Zimmerman has ever actually deemed SO disgusting that he literally couldn't eat it.