Top 5 funniest movies ever. Add Spinal Tap to that list. Groundhog Day. These guys were genius. John Goodman gets major kudos in this as well.

Currants also grow wild in and around NYC, although they're not common, because of past eradication. The best place I've found is in the woods and thickets between the Cunningham Park tennis courts and the Grand Central Parkway in Hollis, Queens. These wild red currants are incredibly flavorful, and make all commercial currants wimpy in comparison. Too tart to enjoy raw, they're wonderful cooked. I love using them in baking, where they provide an intense sparkle to the milder flavor of the muffins or buns. Check out http://www.wildmanstevebrill.com to discover wild foods on my tours, or my WildEdibles app, http://tinyurl.com/6zcnuna, to identify wild currants on your own (there are no poisonous look-alikes). Happy Foraging!

Too bad the black currant ban is yet to be lifted in NJ. Having grown up in Europe I miss my currants. You can't buy them here and you can't even grow them in your own yard. Shame on the ignorant law makers.

Ugh! As soon as my boyfriend sticks the tip of the knife into a durian, I can smell it. Our relationship generally takes a downward plunge during "the time of durian"--that is, when he's bringing it into the house, cutting it, eating it, rhapsodizing about the taste, storing it in the fridge, disposing of it, dreaming about it, talking about it. I hate durian...the taste, the smell, the very fact that it exists. Maybe the attraction to durian is a male-thing. Or maybe he just enjoys driving me crazy...

I first came across Durian working for the State Department of Primary Industries in Queensland Australia in the late 1990's. For me the most unique characteristic of the fruit is the strangely addictive quality to it - whether mouth feel or flavour I couldn't say. After my first taste I thought to never go back - once was definitely enough. But about a week later I was looking for another taste. Then 3 days after that and then the next day.... The smell becomes less important as the taste/texture becomes more familiar. Just hearing the discussion today brought it back. That said one year some of our guys cut a Durian in the staff room, the smell got into the air conditioning and emptied the building.... Myself included. Greg

I grew up in Malaysia eating durians. It was a treat for us - normally, we eat it straight out from the fruit or eat it with sticky rice. My best recollection is durian ice-cream and durian cakes. It is an acquired taste and one definitely grows up with the smell. It may be intensely pungent but it does not smell like socks! And it should not be describe as such as such a description will bias those who have not tried the fruit.

I tried a durian milkshake many years ago at a Vietnamese restaurant on Pell Street. I remember liking it, though the smell was...intense. I say I liked it, though this was many years ago and I haven't been moved to have a durian shake since.

My sister and her friend visiting from Greece bought durian in China town, took it home and then forgot about it. The next morning they awoke to a smell of gas so strong they called the fire department. The firemen came up to the five flight walk-up and when their meter that detects gas found nothing they walked back down. Yes, turns out it was the durian.

Born and raised in the alphabet city of the late '80s and I used to consider myself a pretty funky and outgoing guy when it comes to new experiences and new foods, but I will never forgive durian for striping me of my innocence. My dad had tried durian in the '70s while doing some freelance work in Indonesia it had been prepared for him and was "delicious." So, on a random quest in chinatown, we picked one up (not an easy feat considering its 10 lbs, spikes, and we were traveling by bike) and brought it home. The second we made an incision in the dense surface a foul smell dropkicked us in the shnoze and I yelled something along the lines of "holy shoot!" I ran for the door and jumped out of our apartment as the odor exploded, hot-boxing our tiny tenement apartment with the nastiest stench I could only describe as camel-hide lathered in way-expired non-organic milk. No amount of fabreze could mask it and we waited a good 20 minutes with all the fans on before reentering the house. "Okay, it stinks," says my dad, "but it takes great, just give it a try." It did not.

I tried a durian milkshake from a deli on Grand Street on a whim. I appreciated the complexity and texture, but could not fathom the incredible rotting smell that seemed to follow me out of the store, and the vulgar taste that would not wash out of my mouth for hours. It was quickly added it to the very short list of foods that I will not eat.