Kurt brought home mooncakes last night to celebrate the Chinese Moon Festival. We had one with the traditional bean paste and salty yolk center and six wee ones filled with durian.
For those of you who haven't had (or smelled) durian, it is known to be stinky. Very stinky. Like illegal to have in public, people wonder where the rotting corpse is stinky.
When I cut open a durian mooncake, Kurt took a whiff and immediately threw it down, jumped away, and said things I can't repeat on a family blog. Oh, how I wish I had my video camera!
I smelled one and didn't think it was so bad really. Kurt claims this is proof that my sniffer is dead from years of sinus trouble.
Clearly he wasn't eating one, so the job fell to me. I managed to down a couple small pieces. It wasn't good exactly but not awful either. It had a rotten fruit taste, possibly with a hint of onion.
The bad part came when Kurt got a whiff of my breath.
And threw up.
I am not kidding.
Next year, we'll keep it Southern and stick to moonpies.