Produce Guide - D

Dates

The date is a mainstay of the Arab diet, particularly among those who dwell in the desert. Extremely high in sugar - up to 70 per cent of its weight - the fruit is a good source of protein as well as vitamins A and B. Arab nomads frequently survive in fine health for months on end eating nothing but dates and milk. Unlike many fruits, dates are already intensely sweet when harvested, and their high sugar content makes them self-preserving and extremely long lasting.

There are many varieties of dates, which fall under the categories of soft (fresh), dried, and semi-soft. Soft dates are high in moisture, and have a sweet, mild flavour. Soft Bahri dates, from California, Israel, Egypt, and Tunisia, are sold on the "string" or stem. Unripe, they look like little golden tomatoes, turning brown, sticky, and wrinkled as they ripen. Although I love 'em when they get to this state, as they become sweet and luscious, most of my Middle Eastern customers prefer to eat them when they are underripe, crunchy and mildly astringent.

At the opposite extreme, dried dates are hard, nutty in flavour, and very high in sugar. These are the variety usually found in the supermarket's baking aisle. But most popular in Canada are the semi-soft varieties, which include the Deglet Noor and the Zahidi. The front-runner of the semi-soft dates is the Medjool. This deep red date boasts thick flesh and very little fibre, and it is tender, sweet, and moist. Once you eat a Medjool, there's no turning back. One can understand why North African rulers were so selfish about them, banning anyone outside the royal enclave from growing or eating Medjools. They had their comeuppance, however, for early last century the Moroccan date palms were just about wiped out by a serious blight. As a last-ditch effort to save them, a few palms were exported to California. The trees thrived, and for a while the Bard Valley became the Medjool capital of the world.

Dried Fruits

Some of us can still remember a time when fruits were truly seasonal, before the development of storage or transportation technologies, when our mothers and grandmothers spent their summers putting up preserves and drying fruits to see us through the winter. In post-war England, an orange at Christmas was a splendid thing to find at the bottom of one's stocking, and a banana was simply out of this world. But for the most part, winter fruit meant a steady diet of stewed prunes. And many of my Canadian friends fondly remember pies made of raisins and reconstituted dried apples, in addition to the jars of peaches, pears, and cherries lining the pantry shelves.

These days, dried fruit is less a staple, and more of an alternative. For many people, dried fruit is simply a convenient way to load up on energy, whether while hiking in back country, or trekking through the city in an SUV. But for cooks, dried fruit opens up a world of possibilities. Using prunes rather than plums in a cake is the equivalent of choosing toasted coriander seeds rather than fresh cilantro. The origins may be the same, buts the results are vastly different. Dried fruits add a depth of flavour impossible to achieve with fresh, which can add unwanted bulk and liquid to a dish. This is especially true in baking. And unlike fresh fruits, dried fruits keep well for months, so if you're struck by a fancy for date squares in the middle of the night, you'll be able to whip up a batch without a trip to your local supermarket.

Durians

Virtually unknown outside the steamy climes of Southeast Asia, from Singapore to Thailand, Cambodia to Indonesia, the durian is hailed as the king of fruits. The spiky, football-sized fruit is beloved for its sweet and creamy flesh. But what truly sets the durian apart is its . . . well . . . stink. Limburger cheese, unwashed sweat socks, rotting fish . . . everyone has his or her own favourite description. Perhaps you'll get the idea when I tell you that the durian is banned from hotel rooms and public transport in many Far Eastern cities. Its detractors claim that the fruit looks about as appealing as it smells, and it does resemble a porcupine, or some prehistoric reptile.

You can find durians at ethnic markets from April through July, especially in cities with large Malaysian or Asian populations. However, durians can also be bought frozen out of season, and they are one of those rare fruits that, when thawed, still taste pretty much like the fresh article. I really get stuck trying to describe the flavour, since it's so unlike anything else. It's rich and sweet, sort of sherry-like with an almond undertone. Others have described it as tasting like cream cheese, vanilla, and caramelized onions. The most unfavourable description I've come across likened durian to "fermented papaya after a fruit-eating bat has peed on it.

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