I’ve gotten comfortable here in Phnom Penh. Well, as much as this city allows. Sticking to places that have sides of fresh, lightly dressed salads and attentive wait staff has become part of a surprisingly self-indulgent criteria. But “comfortable” is a relative term, and in this case, it means going face first into the familiar. I’m almost ashamed to admit to this settling, because I’m a reckless eater on the road. But my backpack hasn’t been touched for months now and I’m more local than lost these days. Basically, I’ve gone soft.
To get my street cred back, I challenged my taste buds this week to go where they’ve never gone before: Malaysian food. Okay, so it’s not exactly risky eating, but Mamak’s Corner on Street 114 doesn’t instantly make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. For starters, it’s the definition of a hole-in-the-wall. It’s nearly impossible to find,the interior can only be described as dingy, and the wait staff seem completely bemused by your presence. The well-worn, single page menu for which you have to ask offers no upsurge in expectation, and the metal buffet station, with its uncovered entrees, makes the exit seem like the more sane option. But people swear by this place.
After getting the reply “finished” when trying to order mee goreng (fried noodles), my resulting confusion elicited a recommendation of fried bee hoon (also fried noodles). Although the basic descriptions didn’t do anything to persuade me either way, I agreed to the change. Despite the absence of other dinner-goers and pleasant ambience, I secretly suspected I couldn’t really go wrong here. Malaysian food is like the melting pot of Asia, incorporating dishes and flavours from a variety of countries: India, Indonesia, and China, just to name a few. Since the term “mamak” is indicative of Malaysians of South Indian decent, I anticipated flavours more in line with that sweeter, richer cuisine.
True to their heritage, the roti canai transported me to the stalls in Kerala with their rich, spicy curries and accompanying roti – flat bread cooked to greasy, flaky perfection. For a couple of extra riel notes you could have meat added, but I didn’t need any distractions from the buttery sweetness and intermingling of cumin and red pepper delivered by way of the finger-food-only roti. The bottom of the menu had a selection of dessert-like rotis that couldn’t be passed up and we decided the roti ber was the Goldilocks of sweets in Cambodia: not too sugary – just right.
Squeezing the lime over the bee hoon and twirling up some fried vermicelli began yet another voyage within the confines of my mouth. The chilli dominated, but its eye-watering heat never showed, so the rarely experienced, yet enjoyable chilli flavour stood on its own. Bitter greens, tomatoes and chicken mixed with the fried noodles and carried the afterthoughts of curry to add another Indian “hello.”
After noticing the stack of take-away containers and lack of customer service, it’s clearly a better lunchtime grab, with unbeatable Asian pricing. But I would never have known if I’d stuck to my norm. Unsurprisingly, I survived to tell the tale.
Mamak’s Corner, #17 Street 114. 012 777 990