Food arrives as soon as you sit down – a glass of chilled water, baskets of poppadoms and Indian chips, and relish pots of spicy, green raita, pickled radish in mustard oil that is pleasantly bitter, jam-like tamarind relish, and pickled shallots the colour of cochineal
IT seems only fitting that a country so historically influenced by Indian food should have its fair share of decent curry houses. But if only that were true. There are many Indian restaurants – or, far worse, Western eateries that claim to serve authentic Indian curries – here in Cambodia. But most of them have as much in common with the distinctive aromas and flavours of the Indian subcontinent as a whelk stall in Bognor Regis.
Thankfully there is a place, just off Riverside on Street 130, that could hold its own in Mumbai or London, and I’ve eaten there many times and never been disappointed. It might not have the catchiest name – Sher-E-Punjabi – but my word it does some great dun-coloured, spice-packed stews.
It’s a small, welcoming space, with labial pink decor and Chinese prints on the wall. The service is always excellent and friendly, and there’s often a TV in the corner playing Indian soap operas with the usual pantomime acting.
Food arrives as soon as you sit down – a glass of chilled water, baskets of poppadoms and Indian chips, and relish pots of spicy, green raita, pickled radish in mustard oil that is pleasantly bitter, jam-like tamarind relish, and pickled shallots the colour of cochineal.
The manager always asks whether “you want spicy or not” and even if, like me, you say very spicy, there‘s never such a punch of heat that you can’t taste anything else. The menu is long, with traditional curry house favourites such as vindaloo, madras, and roasted meats from the tandoor oven, sitting alongside more unusual Indian and Mughlai dishes.
The last time I went, our party ordered the meat thali – six dishes on a metal tray – which is excellent value at $7. It included a splendid thick daal, an ode in praise of the lentil, smacking of cumin and ginger; a delicious but small portion of chicken curry, expertly cooked and packed full of flavour; basmati rice; thick slices of raw onion and cucumber, and onion raita. The only downside was the rather sickly pea-strewn vegetable offering swamped in cream and tiny pieces of paneer curd cheese made by heating milk and lemon juice.
Of the mains, the best of the lot was the mutton curry, in which long-braised bits of meat had flaked into a thick, toothsome sauce. Sadly, the chicken vindaloo was not so good, with pronounced but not completely unwelcome sweet notes. It was far removed from the legendary sour, tomato-packed Goan dish, and there were more potato chunks than chicken. The naan breads were the size of saucepan lids though, thin and crisp and nicely scorched in the tandoor.
A group of Indian businessmen walked in and were soon tucking in merrily while discussing the merits of curries in luxury restaurants in Delhi. “I didn’t get much lamb, man; they’re not very generous with the meat,” said one of them afterwards.
And that is the one criticism of the place. The meat curries are delicious but rather stingy. But the food is marked by a skill that I’ve only seen matched in Cambodia by Siem Reap’s original India Gate restaurant, which considering its chef-owner spent 22 years cooking in a five-star hotel in India is quite an accomplishment. You emerge light, and the freshness and vivacity to the cooking means you don’t feel, as you can in many Indian restaurants, that there is an anvil loitering in the bottom of your stomach, waiting to enact its revenge.
Sher-E-Punjabi-I Restaurant, #16 Street 130; 092 992901 or 023 216360.