Street 258 is in one of the quieter backpacker neighbourhoods; filled with friendly shop fronts and guesthouses, just a few doors down from where it intersects with Sothearos. On the typical Phnom Penh awning, written in bold comic sans font, are the words ‘Kathmandu Kitchen’. Here is served Nepalese, Indian and Khmer fare.
What brought me here was a tip from a Canadian guy whose folks are from Punjab, and my big ears overhearing the word ‘Momo’. Momos are a Nepalese/Tibetan dumpling in the vein of the Polish perogi, the Central Asian mantoo, Italian ravioli or a mini empanada. Momos can either be steamed or fried and are filled with a range of savoury fillings.
Seeing the day I ate them was a Friday, the decision was made to go meatless. I also planned to order enough for a snack later in the evening or early morning: they are up there with a nice cold egg roll, but lighter; a treasure to find in your fridge after too much Klang. These little pockets of goodness did the trick as expected, like a Gurkha taking down a platoon of Talibs. I had mine fried, which is sometimes a gamble, though these came out light enough that later that evening I suffered zero heartburn.
The sauce that came with the momos had a lovely, intricate spice that didn’t stare you down. I could hardly resist the beautiful colour and taste that the turmeric, garlic and a touch of ginger added. The portion was ample, at about nine pieces in a standard order for $3.75. The soup I ordered was another pleasant surprise: a delicately textured yellow lentil soup, a sincere and elegant addition to my stomach’s workload.
It’s in places like Kathmandu Kitchen one can find a nice reprieve as the afternoon heat creeps up and the desire not to move before sundown begins to hold steady. During these times of day it takes quite a bit to get me out from whatever fan I’m perched under. Air conditioners do very little for my mood; they’re temperamental, expensive and uncomfortable, and sitting under a good fan and drinking water is a delicious exercise in self-preservation.
Kathmandu Kitchen provided refreshing movement of air and slightly dimmed lighting that gave me a chance to eat while staring down the life-sized statue of some warrior across the street as men tried to move large bundles of laundry out of a medium-sized hotel. They kept almost bumping into his bronzed body with their heavy loads. The figure, though, had no comment on the feats of strength in front of him; he just held brave and static. It was dinner theatre at its best.
Inside the restaurant, green-and-red bunting danced in the fan along the top edge of the room. The walls are a cheerful yellow on the sides, while the walls in front and back are Pepto-Bismol pink. Kathmandu Kitchen brings a welcoming coolness on a hot day. Not a place to rush.
My afternoon chai masala ended my break. It was brought to my table quickly, a rich-thick dessert. Boiled like lava, its cool sugary skin the sign of a well-made cup – though not as spicy as some – there is again a surprisingly refreshing quality to what are normally quite heavy dishes. The restaurant has a few tables outside, perfect for evening people-watching, and the inside has a dignified charm that makes a unique location for a first date or unrushed lunch with a friend.
Kathmandu Kitchen, #13 Street 258;
098 527120