It was a stinky New Year’s, although Malaysians will recognise the items from the heading and smile a little. Being Malaysian-born, it’s no surprise that I’m talking about FOOD!

Let’s hit petai (per-TIE) first. These flattish green beans come in long, strap-like pods that resemble organic ammunition belts. The Parkia speciosa tree may reach 30 metres in height. I remember my father always coming back from army manoeuvres in the jungle, loaded up with bundles of petai that my mother and I would then peel. You can eat the beans raw or cook them, usually in a very thick and strongly-flavoured sauce. The crunchy texture of petai doesn’t change much after cooking.

All kinds of “native” fruit, vegetables and herbs are getting raves from natural health practitioners nowadays, so what does petai help with? The list includes depression (although I think that’s due to the hot, sticky curry or sambal mix that usually enfolds it), PMS, anaemia, high blood pressure, constipation (again, I think it’s the sambal mix it’s in), hangovers, obesity, smoking, stress, nerves, mosquito bites, morning sickness and warts. I remain a bit sceptical about all this, but J tells me he was listening to a one-hour radio programme that extolled the virtues of petai, so the news is certainly getting out there. Here’s a nice picture of a petai dish from Wikipedia. It’s making me a bit hungry even looking at it.

There are a few downsides to munching on petai, however, and they include bad breath, smelly farts and smelly urine (they contain the same set of amino acids as asparagus, but stronger, imo). So you’ll definitely want to warn whomever enters the bathroom after you … or not, as the case may be.

Reaction from n00bs: We had it in a Thai dish, fried with prawns and chilli. J says its definitely an acquired taste, commented on the hard texture, but said he’d try it again … in a few months. It certainly cleaned out my colon, so I’m not complaining.

And we finally cracked the durian that kindly Mr. Loh gave me. The smell of durian is like sugar-coated onions that have been sweating in the oven. (J gave this to me when I had a particularly bad throat infection once, and it helped, so don’t laugh.) And it doesn’t get any better because, to be perfectly honest, once you crack the thick thorny skin, you are confronted with something that looks like a smooth, yellowish obese sausage of cat-sick. Have a look at this (like the previous pic, credit to Wikipedia) and tell me I’m wrong:

There are more than a dozen different durian cultivars, each with its own characteristics. I’m a fan of the yellow, sweet, mushy varieties, although I hear there’s a red variety in Sabah.

Reaction from n00bs: (The type Mr. Loh gave me was white and sweet but with largish seeds.) After saying he’d join me for a taste, The Wast chickened out when confronted by the smelly reality. Only J and my darling, sweet Little Dinosaur ponied up to have a tiny bite. Her reaction can best be described as every vaccination she’s had as a child, rolled into one. I’m not talking about crying, but a stunned look of utter bewilderment, accompanied by a quick, erratic stiff-legged gait around the dining room, followed by a quick dash to the refrigerator to pour herself a drink. J tried something similar by downing a can of Guinness, until I pointed out that if you make a “tcha” sound with your tongue, the taste of the durian comes back into your mouth. He tried it and reported, quite sorrowfully, that I was right.

But, for me, it was heaven. Petai for dinner and durian for midnight supper on New Year’s Eve. What a lovely way to end one year and begin another. Happy 2009 to all!