There’s a food obsession in Southeast Asia that really stinks.

It’s for a food so pungent that some of the hotels we’ve stayed at while traveling here have signs in the rooms telling guests to not bring the food inside.

Yet we’ve also seen other tourists, mainly from China, flocking into shops to sample and buy the food, which isn’t cheap.

Is it stinky cheese? Stinky tofu? No, it’s a spiky fruit whose odor has been compared to sewage or gym socks.

My fellow Americans, behold durian.

In this part of the world, many consider durian a delicacy. They love its custard-like texture and complex flavor profile. When durian is in season, they search for it in night markets and roadside stalls. They gather with friends to compare flavors and discuss which varieties are best.

I took this photo of Chinese enthusiasts at a durian shop in Penang, Malaysia, taking selfies with the fruits and buying them as fast as the owner could sell them.

Champa and I tried a durian puff pastry at a night market and some durian ice cream pops, as you see in the photos above and below. I wanted to like them but almost gagged. The smell was overwhelming. Champa’s reaction was milder.

Like most Westerners, I didn’t grow up with durian. My brain wasn’t wired to think of it as a comfort food. When I finally tried it in Malaysia, the smell was a barrier for me rather than a signal of something desirable. I was like someone who never tasted beer and only found it bitter rather than savoring IPA varieties with friends.

Chinese tourists now travel to Penang and elsewhere for durian tours, much as Americans travel to Napa for wine. In both cases, group dynamics play a role. The foods can nourish tradition and identity along with the palate.

I didn’t want to be a typical Westerner who tries durian and says, “That’s disgusting!” I honestly tried it with an open mind along with my open mouth. But durian just didn’t pass the smell test, at least for me.

Sorry durian, but I whiffed.