I love food. I really do. Not in the ‘It’s cool to be a foodie’ way, but from the inner depths of my soul. Sounds a little too dramatic? It sure is because food, and the experiences that go with it, are the sole reason for my existence.
So, you can imagine my delight (read quivering knees) when I was invited on a road trip to Kep and was reliably informed that the famous Kep crab markets were a mere 200m from our bungalows. I could practically roll downhill into the loving claws of a crab. Almost.
Only a few hours south of Phnom Penh, Kep is a small, relaxed coastal town where you can literally do nothing, or do plenty while still doing nothing. Delights include the local beaches, Rabbit island, gorgeous sunsets, mountain (hill) trekking and the gutted French ‘ghost villas’ on the sides of Kep National Park (where the mythical rhino roams), all of which deserve a few columns in their own right.
However, should anyone ask me about Kep, my only true memory is the sublime, fresh seafood of Kep crab markets.
Small squid, long squid, fat squid, all squid expertly skewered and grilled on charcoal. Whole fish trapped between wooden chopsticks char grilled to perfection, all the while being basted with lemon grass and herbs. Sides of steamed rice, chilli sauce and mango salad are washed down with sugar cane juice. Oh, okay: sugar cane juice = an ice-cold can of Angkor.
Lining the coast, the market and neighbouring restaurants are in part built on stilts erected in the shallows, allowing for an easy swim to the crab pots from underneath each building. A hive of activity early in the morning, the shore is lined with moored wooden boats as their catch is brought in. A brave soul ventures through chest-high waves to bring the fishermen breakfast before they cast off again for the day.
All this and no mention of crab, you say? Well, there is crab. There is crab everywhere.
The friendly giant crab that welcomes you to Kep beach; crab-filled pots on the pier surrounded by buyers who haggle price and size while filling their bags; crab pots bobbing in the sea; crab in holding tanks; crab steamed and sold in bags by the kilo; crab on the menu in every dining establishment, and, most importantly, crab right in front of me.
Glorious fresh crab. Sweet, juicy crab. Eat it steamed or grilled or fried, or as they do very well in Kep with stalks of Kampot peppercorn. Be prepared to smile and get messy. So much of eating crab is about getting dirty, having crab all over your face and clothes, trying to keep your hair at bay in the sea breeze, licking your fingers and that magical moment you find those sweet morsels of crab meat.
Be still, my beating heart!
Go gorge and be a glutton. The crab in Kep is seriously good.