Dish: Laws Of Attraction

In Japan, they call it nikuman. In China, baozi. Here, you know them as num paw.

You know what I’m talking about: those delicious peach-shaped spongy buns filled with tender, savoury pork. You find them inside big steel steamers all around the city and I simply love them.

However, I must confess I love the Chinese and Japanese ones so much more. They are lighter, squishier and the much juicier filling falls apart in your mouth like a crumbling sand castle. I’ve had what you may call an obsession for this Asian delight since I first travelled to Japan 10 years ago.

It’s a fine day in Phnom Penh and I’m riding my bike down Mao Tse Tung. In my head, the thought of biting into a springy, oil-dripping nikuman (the Japanese version, in case you forgot) plays again and again like a broken record. I guess it has simply been too long since the last time I enjoyed one in all its fleshy, luscious glory and the Khmer type simply doesn’t cut it for me any more. Suddenly, in front of what seems like an ordinary restaurant, I spot a food expositor sitting on the sidewalk. Something about it catches my eye and I get closer: with incredulity, I realise it’s filled with nikuman. Hallelujah! This is the first time I’ve ever seen them in the city; it must be the law of attraction at work.

The place’s name is Nagomi; a modest, low-key Japanese restaurant close to the intersection of Mao Tse Tung Boulevard and Street 63. Entering, I have my second surprise of the day: this is the most Japanese-looking place I’ve seen in Phnom Penh. Cloth curtains bearing the cartoonish image of Mount Fuji cover the windows, through which a placid, warm light enters, bathing the wooden tables and benches. On the back wall, a timber shelf supports a variety of Japanese liquors and beers. In a vintage poster on the opposite wall, a composed Geisha preaches the merits of a certain brand of sake in kanji and hiragana characters.

The menu is promising: oyakodon, karaage chicken, curry rice… All of my favourite Japanese dishes have come to the party, but my excitement soon wavers. The waiter brings my much sought-after nikuman. While the dough’s consistency holds up to the Japanese standard, the filling does not. There’s too little pork inside the bun and it’s not nearly oily enough. Next comes another of my absolute favourites, katsudon, but again mild disappointment awaits: the rice is just a bit too mushy, the strips of chicken a bit too thin and hard, and the whole dish comes overflowed with too much eggy goo. Don’t get me wrong: the damned thing is delicious, but it just isn’t the same stuff you get in tiny, back-alley izakayas around Osaka.

On a more positive note, the miso soup (which, together with a cabbage salad, accompanies the katsudon) is definitely one of the best I’ve had in Phnom Penh. Its salty seaweed flavour is spot-on.

At night, lying in bed, I reflect on the law of attraction and come to one realisation: it works! From now on, I must consider my thoughts more seriously. With the power to materialise pork-filled buns into my life, what’s stopping me from bringing into existence, say, a girlfriend?!

Nagomi Japanese Restaurant,
#25 Mao Tse Tung Boulevard; 023 222 608.