The Feast of Saint Valentine this year was probably one of the best in my recollection. It was a day of celebration and the love of a larger community as my dear friends, a beautiful and smart young family, were finally able to make their way from Kabul to Delhi to Kuala Lumpur to start a new adventure here in Phnom Penh. To welcome them to expat life, a huge family style dinner was in order. Petra, a Jordanian restaurant in the heart of BKK1, fit the bill for fine halal dining.
The more continental and thus recognisable fare on the menu is appropriate for industrious eating, to fuel work and push progress: its purpose is to serve as a break in one’s day, to keep the body balanced and fuel the machine. Individuals are meant to stay on their side of the table, with their fork, their plate and their food. But eating like this goes against the vigorous family dining habits that are the hallmark of many Middle Eastern and Central Asian cultures.
Unlike the standard lavash, wrapped and tahini dripping, what deliciously sneak up on you at Petra are dishes you must – for the sake of their richness – share with a group of at least three fellow diners. Look closely and you’ll notice only a handful of tables for two, tucked away in a nice back corner where we saw one couple happily chowing down on a plate of delicious-looking cous cous.
The rest of the seating is intended for groups, because Middle Eastern dining is by nature a group exercise in which food and conversation are passed around with great fervour and joy. Plates are emptied and refilled by the nearest hand. Dishes are moved from one end of the table to another with speed. Deep brown and cilantro-rich lamb curries; tender chicken kebabs; rice with raisins and toasted cashews; pita bread, baked fish and filling one’s belly to sleepiness are undertaken in the public domain. After all, there is no shame in being well fed.
My dinner date for the evening was probably the happiest and most gregarious jetlagged five-month-old in all of Asia; a child with a quick grin, a chatty disposition and a natural pomodoro (‘tomato’) hair-do. She ate her pita soaked in various roux, yoghurt, rice; her baked white fish with a tomato puree, and hummus like a champion, making noises of deep appreciation with each gummy toothless bite as she went visiting from lap to lap. At the end of the meal I fed her the limes from my drinks. She would eat them, making an intrigued grimace, then once she consumed each slice let out this squeal of triumph, grabbing for more. By the end she fell asleep on her mother’s lap, hair hanging back, her little hands and feet dangling.
The adults at the table raved about the lamb, devoured the hummus and were slightly confused by the coffee. For some members of our party the lack of alcohol threw them, though the fresh juices were presented in large quantities and beautiful fashion. The patio outside offers a quiet view of the street and the wait staff are attentive but not obtrusive. The food comes well-paced and in time with the rest of the group. At Petra, it’s OK to bring a friend or five and eat like a family. In fact, it’s good for the heart.
Petra, #8a Street 288; 023 6663222.