Durian Duran: Life Back in Indianapolis

Late last night I was sitting out on the deck, eating my first Durian fruit and enjoying a bottle of Bell's Two-Hearted Ale when I quietly came to the consensus that it was good to be back home. It was September 7th, a month and six days since I moved back to Indianapolis and the first time I had been in Indiana for over a month in five years. It's nice to see my family on a regular basis. It makes me happy to hear classic rock being blared from open car windows at stop lights. It's a real comfort to be able to find some quality biscuits and gravy again. The real shocker, however, was the prevalence of ethic food in Indianapolis.

Back in Connecticut, I had one of my last meals with some friends at a Vietnamese restaurant, what I thought was effectively waving goodbye to Pho for at least the next four years. Au contraire, my friends, I have already found a great Pho restaurant. It's located in--of all places-- a struggling old strip mall, a few miles northwest of downtown. I admit to judging a book by its cover and somewhat dismissed the restaurant before opening the door. For some reason, I had the preconception that most good meals of any price are either in the inner city or at mom and pop style restaurants in smaller outlying towns. This was neither, in a marginally unsafe neighborhood and in an area that seemed to be in economic decline. These thoughts circled in my head until after opening the door, when they all changed. I must say that you can tell that the owners take a lot of pride in their restaurant. It's tastefully decorated and kept very neat and clean. It made me think about a news clip I saw recently of President Bush speaking with a working mother:

President Bush: What do you do for a living?
Working Mother: I work three jobs.
President Bush: I think that's uniquely American.

Although that go-get-em attitude that allows that woman to work three jobs is inspirational, the thought of anyone having to do so and, in the process, be away from their family to that extent is disheartening. I thought, no, this is uniquely American: a Vietnamese family running a beautiful, successful restaurant in some nondescript corner of Indianapolis. I had somewhat of a cold and was fiending for that belly-warming, sinus clearing feeling of pho . I scrambled through their smorgasboard of sauces and spices until I found what I was looking for: the Sriracha sauce, huy fong brand no less, with its rooster standing proudly. I spooned some into my soup and slurped away happily until it was gone.

But the adventure doesn't stop there! Connected to the restaurant is an Asian grocery. I decided I would make some pad thai for my family and assembled the ingredients into my hand basket, until, before leaving I made an impulse decision to buy some Durian and finally eat that famously stinky but delicious fruit. And how! Way cool I must say. Durian smells heavily of sulfur with a fruity acidic tinge but its flavor and texture are closer to a custard, with a slightly nutty nuance and some of the flavors you get from the slightly bitter white pulp you find in citrus fruits. Very interesting. I'm looking forward to trying the other species of Durian (apparently there are thirty or so).

Indianapolis has me excited again. I found an Egyptian restaurant close to Saigon Restaurant, my new favorite place for pho, and am looking forward to eating there. My parents curiously have a new-found interest in trying falafel so I've assembled a list of restaurants to visit. I recently discovered that Brugge, a hip Belgian beer bar in Broadripple, sells moules frites so you know I'll be up in that biz. I was ready to kill a man for some authentic Belgian fries served with european mayo and mussels and, thankfully, the socially responsible proprietors of Brugge will keep me in med school and out of jail for the next four years. It's good to be back home.