Spirulina. Juice diets. Organic or die. While it’s obviously not just cool, but important, to eat healthy, it’s just as vital to step back sometimes and remember how damn enjoyable eating can be. The cupcake is the ultimate symbol of good, fun food.
…..
Let’s take a breather between CrossFit sessions and green smoothies to talk dessert. Seriously, is it just me or is everyone getting a little too tightly wound about sugar? I get it, health reasons and whatever, but let’s all agree it’s okay to let our hair down every once in a while. Maybe abstaining from a daily slice of migraine-inducing birthday cakes is a good idea, but let’s not go all devout sugar crusaders on everyone’s pudding cups.
Coming from a family who claims “there’s always room for dessert,” I’m never one to shy away from a sweet treat. Chocolate? Sure. Baked goods? I’ll have two. Which is why the teeny tiny cupcakes from Cupcake Rush are a problem for me. At only $1.25 a pop and their central, BKK 1 location, it’s easy to overdose. When the nice lady behind the counter pulls out her secret tray brimming with miniature delights, it’s far too easy to say I’ll have one of everything.
So the only real advice I can offer when walking into this hot pink heaven is to have a plan. Know how many cupcakes for which you’re in the market before walking in. Like one tiramisu and one chocolate. Stick to it, especially because the passion fruit ones, in all their bright orange, look-at-me glory, fall short of anything fruity. The green tea and cookies and cream share the same, plain vanilla-tasting fate, so there are definitely a few that can be skimmed over. That still leaves true to their name flavours like red velvet and caramel to choose between, but you’re on your own for that final, brow-furrowing decision. Thankfully, the staff are used to that, and wait patiently while you point to every single one to ask its flavour profile.
Sitting outside on the pink stools is actually a must once you’ve selected your sweets, not just because the interior is standing room only. After the keeper of the cupcakes cleans the exterior eating area, the teeny tinies are plated and brought out. But finish your conversation with your dessert partner, as the creamy frosting needs to soften a bit in the heat. Your equally tiny spoon will be able to cut through the topping and reveal a dense, but moist cake below. While it’s easy for a homemade treat such as this to ruin in this town’s humidity, they devotedly preserve the quality of their only menu item by keeping them fresh and cool.
Depending on whether you’re a one-flavour-at-a-time kind of person or someone who likes to mix and match as you go, I have no rules on how and when you enjoy your bites. They’re easily an afternoon fix or fun addition to a party, as the ladies are more than willing to box up a selection of them for you. Although there are plenty of desserts elsewhere that might top these little babies, some days a bit of simple, childlike nostalgia is all you really need.
I sat at the dimly lit, elegant bar of Zino in the South-of-Sihanouk Gourmet Ghetto. Outside on Street 294 the sun-blasted asphalt was baking, heat waves rising from the surface. But I was in the cool depths, contemplating the dish of chilled oysters on the half-shell laid before me and planning a fitting accompaniment for the succulent bivalves. Custom called for a glass of full-bodied Chardonnay, or a dry Sherry, or even a cold beer. But I was in a rebellious mood. I called for a Martini.
Usually a Martini in this town is a miserable slug of cheap gin or vodka, indifferently shaken and poured into a warm glass. It’s anything for which the barkeep has no other name. But Mr. Vireak, the head barman at Zino, has always shown himself as a man who knows his business. “Rek,” says I, “Do me a Martini.” There then followed the mixological interrogation that only a pro would exhibit: Gin or vodka? Dry or sweet? Shaken or stirred? Straight up, or on the rocks? Olive or twist?
The Martini, with only two ingredients and a garnish, is elegantly simple, yet unforgiving of mistakes. It dates back to 1862 when the famous “Professor” Jerry Thomas concocted the first one. He was head bartender at San Francisco’s Occidental Hotel where he tended to the daily needs of his “patients.” His simple yet perfect libation became the drink of choice for literati such as Jack London and Henry Miller, and the official drink of the ruling class and those who would aspire to it. FDR and Winston Churchill mixed their own to the definitive recipe, while James Bond gave detailed instructions for a somewhat idiosyncratic mix using equal parts of vodka and gin.
This is not a drink to knock back in haste. It needs to be sipped, savoured and meditated upon. The story goes that FDR always made two of them last 30 minutes apiece. Hence, the “Cocktail Hour.” He always made his own, and he made ‘em “dirty,” adding a teaspoon of olive brine to the mix. He shook a pair for himself and King George VI when he and the British monarch plotted world strategies during a state visit in 1939. They each had two. How it might have affected the ensuing war is not recorded.
So now I watch Rek make a drink fit for a president or a king. He pours premium gin generously over ice in a cocktail shaker. The traditional drink should not be too dry. So he gives it a good splash of vermouth, making a cocktail, not a straight shot. He shakes it into submission. Shakes it ‘til it cries for mercy. Shakes it so that the botanicals in the gin will volatilise and so reveal themselves to my senses while still remaining glacially cold. When he pours it into a chilled glass, a patina of ice crystals floats upon the surface. Now my oysters are in good company.
Backyard Café is the latest sensation among health-food junkies and fitness enthusiasts. You’ve heard about it if you pump iron, shop organic, or attend community yoga.
Today I enter this latest addition to Phnom Penh’s growing health-orientated restaurant circle. And this is what I know before I even step into the café: the all-original, creative menu has been crafted by nutrionist and raw food chef Emma Fountain and contains many vegan and gluten-free options. Backyard Café is all about whole foods: ingredients that have been processed as little as possible. Spices and sweeteners are used sparingly, and frying is avoided like the plague. Their scrumptious-looking cakes are homemade, and many of their dishes are season-based. All this is done with one purpose in mind: to allow the customer to experience flavours in all their natural, unadulterated glory.
But today I don’t come here in self-indulgent fashion. I am a man on a mission; a man who seeks an answer to a pressing question. We know the food at Backyard Café is healthy and presumably energising. But is it tasty?
With no sign on the façade of the bright, white building to disclose its identity, Backyard Café can be a bit tricky to locate. Like the food it serves, the décor of the café is simple and clean-cut. The luminous white walls have very little by way of decoration. A few cacti rest on the elegant tables of reclaimed wood, looking over white modernist chairs. The atmosphere – stylish, yet relaxed – is ideal for a business meeting or a get-together with friends.
As soon as I sit down, I am handed two menus: one for breakfast and one for lunch. In both, the list of green smoothies and cold pressed juices is as long as it is creative. As I skim over the lunch menu, I notice some traditional dishes that, at the hands of Fountain, have been given a healthy twist. The lasagna uses sheets of veggies instead of pasta to separate layers. The zucchini fritters turn its back on flour, using ground chia seeds for binding.
I begin my lunch with a Matcha Green Iced Latte ($4). The pale green drink comes in a glass jar, with a wooden straw sticking out. It is made with cashew milk, vanilla bean, Himalayan salt and coconut sprinkles. The thing is healthy, alright, but if you were expecting the taste and sweetness of your conventional matcha iced latte, you’ll be disappointed: the concoction is a little bland.
The Abundance Bowl ($6), on the other hand, is a colourful mixture of contrasting flavours and textures that will exceed your expectations. The sweetness of the pumpkin complements the pickled ginger and the sauerkraut by accentuating their bitterness. The sweet and creamy cashew nut cheese plays perfectly well with the savoury red pepper hummus – using the tempeh to scoop them out is a temptation I can’t resist. This dish is, no doubt, the creation of a gifted culinary mind.
Backyard Café even offers services that transcend the boundaries of your everyday eatery. Customers can detox and pump up their energy levels by undertaking raw food and juice cleanses facilitated by the café: for $5 per person you also get lunchboxes of natural goodness delivered to your office.
So, in answer the ultimate question, yes, the food at Backyard Café is not just healthy, but tasty to boot. With the exception of a few items (the matcha latte immediately comes to mind), Fountain has done a superb job of creating super healthy dishes with great zest. The healthy-and-flavourful package has helped this little venue develop a solid reputation in just a matter of months. In combination with affordable prices and good service.
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.
There’s nothing quite like it when mum makes you a bowl of her homemade chicken noodle soup for whatever ailment with which you’ve come down – broken heart or burning fever. It doesn’t have to be the best soup – although you’ll fight to the death if anyone says otherwise – it just has to be there. The reliable comfort is the main ingredient.
Magnolia Wrap & Roll is Phnom Penh’s version of mumma’s love in a bowl. It’s not the best Vietnamese food you’ll ever eat, but it’s good. Always. And it has that feeling of home, where your sister is in charge of setting the table and your brother gets everyone’s drinks. The white linen tablecloths make it a bit like you’re having company for dinner, needing to be on better behaviour, but it’s more like a family party than formal dining. Children are definitely welcome.
Pick a table out in the garden and relax into the plush cushions as you flip through the extensive menu. With a Southern Vietnamese perspective, you’ll find the selections of pho, their internationally famous noodle soup, in the breakfast section, as opposed to the Northern any-time-goes approach. They cater to your soup craving all day, though, and have the standard meat choices – chicken, beef, pork, and a few other specialty options. If it hasn’t already, pho can easily replace Western-style chicken noodle as a feel-better remedy. With healing ingredients like ginger and cinnamon and doctoring it up with Hoisin sauce, bean sprouts, fresh herbs, and a hit of chilli, it’ll clear you right up.
Another must when doing Vietnamese is the bánh xèo, a once-folded, turmeric-coloured crepe, gently stuffed with a variety of ingredients. Again, leaning more toward the Southern style, Magnolia prefers the oversized pancake recipe to the smaller, Northern version. As for the stuffing, it’s almost better to close your eyes and point when deciding, since indecision can run rampant with all the options. Taking a break from meat, the enoki mushroom is more interesting than appetising, with a textural equivalent of a squeaky, angel hair pasta. Weird, but still recommended. The flavour is more of the same, making dipping the properly lettuce-wrapped pancake into the sweet and sour sauce a must.
Venturing out of the comfort zone is easy, since soup selections and entrees abound. To add more fire to your palate and finish singeing what taste buds you have left, the innocent-sounding pork and cashews should do the trick. Its third, but unmentioned main ingredient, chilli, will have you running to your tea. The wait staff seem to be on standby for this and they’ll keep your glass topped up. It’s this attentiveness that makes Magnolia more about the experience anyway. There is always a smiling greeter at the open-aired entrance, nearly intuitive abilities when you want to order, and impressive speediness when you’re ready to ket loy yourself out of there. Grab whoever you consider family in this town and order one of everything to share, enjoying good company and food for your soul.
Magnolia Wrap & Roll #253, St. 63, BKK1. 097 552 99 77
There are some places in Phnom Penh that momentarily make you forget where you are. Che Culo, in all its Mediterranean-influenced glory, is hands down one of them. Stepping off the street and into the courtyard is a welcome change of scenery, temporarily escaping the daily hustle of this city. From the mosaic floor, sea-glass colour scheme, and archways framing intimate enclaves, there’s a romantic ease about it all.
To set the record straight, though, it’s pronounced “keh-cooloh” (meaning “What luck”) – something I’ve been butchering since they opened in early December. This simple correction adds to the slightly pretentious vibe surrounding a tapas bar in Phnom Penh, but after one espresso martini and a bite of their Mama’s Meatballs it’s hard not to let that one slide. If you’re not convinced, get an order of the zucchini fritters and try not to think the little wooden forks aren’t the cutest.
Adding to their perfectly succinct list of cocktails and tapas is the spontaneous, live entertainment of co-owner Nick Hattingh, who can be occasionally found karate-kicking along to classic hip hop tunes while affirming his self-appointed role as host with the most. The evenings are undoubtedly a success, but the $5 lunch menu challenged me to see if all of the flair from happy hour translated to a quieter noon bite.
One simple chorizo and chicken sandwich and an order of lamb ragu pasta later and I was pleasantly surprised. It was a close one deciding between the other full plate entrees – the contenders being a basil pesto pasta or the meatball sub with “Che Culo! sauce” – but we couldn’t pass on lamb and chorizo. While we began our snobby assessment of the not-so-snobby dishes, a few other tables filled, allowing me to abide by my rule of never eating at an empty restaurant.
Having an Italian name (that also, apparently, roughly translates to “lucky bastard”) means the bar is set pretty high for signature items: namely starches. To get a perfect pasta, it needs to have texture, a certain amount of life left in it. The fusilli that happened to be substituted in the lamb ragu achieved that coveted al dente finish and held up to the richness of the twice-cooked lamb, a meat that is either off-the-charts good or a major miss. Let’s just say they know what they’re doing.
Though my usual instinct when getting a plate with a version of a fried potato side is to sneak a taste, I’m going to recommend resisting that temptation. Skip the overly seasoned bits and go straight for the main. The dense ciabatta, soaked in the succulent flavours from the chorizo and chicken, offered up the perfect vessel to dip into the excess juices of the sandwich. Pairing the two meats with cheddar, avocado, and a jalapeno mayo sounded a bit heavy, but the ingredients were left to speak for themselves and they proved to be quite harmonious.
Fresh ingredients – light, yet filling – and a coffee to finish the meal? Che Culo can definitely do lunch.
“Where are you taking us?” Andre asked as we drove through, admittedly, not the prettiest section of Phnom Penh. We continued down toward the river and the remnants from a leftover market seemed to clean themselves up as guesthouses and restaurants emerged.
“There!” I spotted Dot Grill – a last-ditch-effort location just barely avoiding the madness of the riverfront.
Though the untrained eye might miss its immediate subtleties, differentiating it from touristy cafes nearby, the pristine atmosphere indicated that elephant-print pants were unnecessary. It was filled with wood instead of wicker. Set tables with full-sized glasses welcomed us. The cool lighting relieved us of our heat-induced, midday haze. Every detail was clearly executed and I could only think to describe it as intelligently designed.
We sat ourselves down and ordered the lunch specials: one traditional Khmer BBQ skewer and one innocuous-sounding veggie sandwich. With our water glasses filled, our Cokes delivered, and the stainless steel grill at the centre of the restaurant fired up preparing our meal, we took in our surroundings. This recently opened restaurant was an obvious effort to share the pride of Cambodian food through a more modern setting. When our wait staff presented our meals, we confirmed that this approach most certainly worked.
Sliding off the marinated meats from the skewer, I could already sense their tenderness. The chicken was cut effortlessly. The juices ran free and the carnivore within me urgently anticipated the satisfaction of the first succulent bite. None of that rationing of flavours, just basting perfection. The chicken won out over the pork, but both carried that sweet, slightly floral note well. Not to be overshadowed, the grilled vegetables had equally mouth-watering qualities: something about throwing green peppers and onions over a flame takes them from being puny vegetarian fare to robust flavour contenders. Add in the pepper and lime dipping sauce and it was clear that Dot Grill wasn’t just a pretty face.
Dispelling the usual disappointment from teeth-breaking baguettes, the sandwich was also on point. The physics defying sturdy yet soft bread held the contents of one of the best veggie sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. “Best” in no way refers to healthiest, however, as the mixture of raw and grilled vegetables were doused in a white dressing that lacked neither flavour nor, I presume, calories. Not a deterrent, we ate every last bite of the liberally filled baguette and discussed the dressing’s tangy, yet hummus-like flavor.
Although the side of crisps left much to be desired in terms of the mandatory crunch-factor, the desserts quickly made up for the momentary slip-up. Kampong Chhnang province provided our bamboo sticky rice, the mild sweetness at just the right amount for comfort food, and we chose chocolate as our ice cream selection. The last spoonful of the savoury treat left us comfortably full, a reflection of the conscious restraint used in all aspects of the restaurant.
Organic when possible, always seasonal, and, most importantly, traditional with a twist all factored in to make this unassuming eatery well worth the search.
There’s something going down in the Funan town of Kampot. Once just the home of rice, fish and durian – never the best combination – Kampot is undergoing a culinary renaissance. Japanese, Italian, French, Spanish, Khmer or simply good food cooked well, Kampot has become a dining destination. It all has the feel of Phnom Penh 10 years ago, when people with a passion for the country, rather than the dollar, looked at what they could do to engage with and live in the Kingdom. Answer: open a restaurant. As a result, many of these businesses are truly family affairs; something that conjures a certain warmth when eating in the town. And because Kampot is a “heads” town, the spirit is strictly layback, unlike like the meth-addled urgency of its bigger southern cousin. Exhausted by the capital’s dining options? Take a culinary road trip with The Advisor as we explore 12 dining opportunities that will make your trip south worthwhile.
Main Course
Mak Srey Keo BBQ – “The local”
Corner 710 & 726
Across the street from Java Bleu is a unexceptional-looking Khmer eatery, which would be easy to miss given all the other options in Kampot. But for a worthwhile trip into local food, MSK is a treat. Popular with Khmers and local expats alike, in the evenings it can be a challenge to find a table (they do a call-up and take-out service for those in a hurry). But getting a table is worth it, as there is a certain Graham Greene charm about the place, which enlivens the dining experience for the Indochine romantic. Options, many of them gloriously misspelt on the menu (“flog,”anyone?) range from the standard (fried rice and noodles) to the exotic (grilled oyster chili and fried beef with ant). But a personal favourite is the whole wok-fried fish with spices. This dish costs $2.50 and with most other items on the menu similarly priced, you should get away with spending $4 for food, drinks and a welcomed tip for the staff. Go for: “The Quiet American” vibe. Ask for: The wok-fried fish with spices.
Café Espresso
Café Espresso – “Coffee Mecca”
Street 731
With the best coffee in the southwest, Café Espresso’s roasted and ground beans emphasise what Kampot is all about – the simple done well. The owners, Gus and Kiara, left Australia three years ago and opened up the café. Since then, Café Espresso has become the coffee destination in town. Its unreconstructed Chinese shop-house/hole-in-the-wall ambiance means that you could be on the Paris Left Bank of yore, but its sensible prices remind you that you’re not. The café offers quality food to go with your coffee – everything from Portuguese chicken wraps to pumpkin loaf. But it’s the sacred bean that will have you coming back again and again. You can even leave with a bag of their house blend, Rumble Fish. Go for: Left Bank ambiance meets Brisbane chic. Ask for: Anything of a coffee persuasion.
Japanese Restaurant – “Yes, that is its name”
River road, near the Old Bridge intersection
The recent explosion of Japanese restaurants in the Kingdom has spread and now Kampot has its own edition offering its take on Nippon cuisine. Owned and operated by a Japanese (Saitama)/French (Lorraine) couple, the food covers a range of Japanese favourites: korokko (potato cakes), karanga (fried chicken), curry, sushi, okonomiyaki and ebi kakiage teishoku (crispy pancakes), while all mains are served with rice, miso soup and pickled vegetables. My Japanese partner, Hiromi, attests to the quality of the restaurant and asks to go there whenever she is in town, so it must be of a certain high quality. Meanwhile, it is reassuring to know that there is now a place in Kampot where you can enjoy an ice cold Asahi or Sapporo. Located near the Old Bridge and overlooking the river, the view isn’t bad, either. Go for: An ice cold Asahi as you look out over the river. Ask for: Okonomiyaki, Osaka style.
Street Bakery
Street Bakery – “Some like it hot”
Street 731 (look for the pile of wood)
So non-descript that it passes many visitors by, over the road from Café Espresso is a Chinese shop-house whose upstairs appears to have been gutted by fire. But no, this is one of Kampot’s best-kept secrets: a traditional Khmer wood-fired bakery. Baguettes fresh out of the oven cost only 1,000 riel and are as scrumptious as they are hot. Purchase one and take it back to your accommodation, cut it open and cover it with butter and jam (you can purchase these from the shops surrounding the Durian circle, the town’s main roundabout). Complement this with a coffee and you have a breakfast that harks back to provincial France. Just make sure you get there before 9am, as the hot bread disappears fast. Go for: A traditional Khmer bakery experience. Ask for: A 1,000 riel hot baguette.
Kampot Pie and Ice Cream Palace
“There’s something about Mary’s” Street 720
Mary Rose, proprietor of “the Palace,” is a shining light and one of those “special people” who make Kampot the kind of town that it is. Self-taught and with help from her family and friends, she bakes all of the Palace’s delights, from apple pies to coconut cookies and a host of goods in between (the name really does say it all). But one thing shines above all else: the Mary Rose BIG breakfast. It may not win any Heart Foundation awards but it will set you up for the day, guaranteed. For the reil you’ll spend, it’s the best fried breakfast this side of the Kingdom. Go for: Mary’s welcome. Ask for: The Mary Rose BIG breakfast.
Java Bleu – “Last chance to eat?”
Corner Street 710 & 726
I stay close to Java Bleu, a restaurant situated in a beautiful French provincial-style building in the heart of Kampot’s colonial district. Each morning around 7am, I can find Jean Claude sorting through the freshly delivered fish that will cover his menu for the day. Fish, cooked with French style and flare, is the focus of Java Bleu’s menu, together with quality wines and desserts. It’s always worth savouring its outstanding dishes in a beautiful corner location – a position as yet unconfirmed for the future. Go for: A possible last chance to sample Java Bleu at its present location. Ask for: The swordfish or the seafood platter.
Rikitikitavi
Rikitikitavi – “Watch the boats”
River road, corner Street 728
Situated on a prime site on Kampot’s riverside, RKT offers a higher end dining experience, but at reasonable prices. With Khmer and Western favourites (amok, lok lak, curries, fish and chips, kebabs, BBQ ribs, vegetarian burritos) RKT covers the food bases. The meals are excellent and the service outstanding: Denise and Dom put a lot of effort into staff training and it shows. The best feature of all, however, is the 2-for-1 cocktail deal between 5-7pm. Tank up on mojitols, Singapore slings, caiparinhas and a host of other mixed drinks and you may well see the rest of your night disappear in a blur. Even better, time your visit around 6pm and watch the departure of Kampot’s fishing fleet as it heads out for its evening trawl. Go for: Quality riverside dining. Ask for: The 2-for-1 cocktails between 5 and 7pm.
The Green House – “An out-of-town experience”
Road to Kampot Zoo
Last decade, Snow’s (or Maxine’s) over the other side of the Tonle Sap River was a Phnom Penh institution (hell, Dengue Fever even recorded live there). Redevelopments along the river put pay to the bar but not to the building, which was taken down, packed up and resurrected by Marco and Dave on the banks of the Kampot River (one kilometre before the Kampot Zoo, 700 metres beyond the sign-posted turn-off).
Now sans Dave and with some significant improvements, including a recently enlarged outside deck and a new menu, the Green House has raised the bar for West Bank fare. In particular, its take on the regions favourite native – pepper – provides a unique twist to its various dishes (swordfish fillet with red Kampot pepper butter and lime sauce, for example). But it is the restaurant’s location on the river, with its laidback charm that truly sets it apart from the rest. Just make sure to bring some mosquito spray and cover up – you come to dine, not be dined on, and those guys can be feisty once the sun disappears. Go for: Pepper menu twists, twilight and sunset. Ask for: Red Kampot pepper and chocolate cookies.
Epic Arts
Epic Arts – “Soul Food”
Street 724
You notice it when you enter: a quiet and peaceful atmosphere, which transfers across to the food and coffee. This is not surprising – Epic Arts provides support to people with disabilities, including the hard of hearing, many of whom prepare and serve the restaurant’s food and drinks. Open early and closing at 5pm, Epic Arts is dedicated to breakfast and lunch options, including muesli, toasted bread, baguettes and paninis. Meanwhile, for those requiring a caffeine fix, Epic Arts does an excellent plunger coffee, as well as a range of shakes and smoothies. It also has a nice line of baked goods that you can take away.
Epic Arts is about more than food and drink, however, and forms part of a comprehensive programme empowering the less able through music, drawing and vocational training. Venture upstairs and you can check out some of this work. Go for: Good intentions. Ask for: Cheese and tomato panini and a plunger coffee.
Divino – “Family Values”
Street 724
Kampot attracts many people to its riverside location. That it has attracted Marco and Alessia, a couple devoted to reproducing the food of their Southern Italy homeland means that the town now plays host to one of the finer Italian restaurants in the Kingdom. It is less a “hole in the wall” and more a “table in the front room” establishment; the bambino sleeps on the nearby chair, the staff run their hands through her hair, all adding to the charm and authenticity of Divino’s family spirit. From pastas to risottos, to pizza and gnocchi and wonderfully baked homemade bread, there is sure to be something that will satisfy your Italian food urge. Moreover, many of the ingredients are prepared on site, meaning that the “from the packet” approach that passes for Italian food at some establishments is avoided. Also check out the wine sourced from the family vineyard back home in Italy – it offers the perfect complement to your main course. Go for: Family charm. Ask for: The five cheeses gnocchi.
Kampot Cooker
Kampot Cooker – “Going to the dogs”
Corner 710 & 726
The Kampot Cooker is owned and operated by Johnny and Yan and offers a distinct take on street-side food. Johnny has brought years of cooking experience from the US and France to create a menu range that, although not extensive, is exciting and innovative. Yan and her family, meanwhile, ensure that your order and other needs are well taken care of.
Menu-wise, one favourite is the Kampot Dog, comprising ground, fresh pork, Kampot red pepper, lemongrass, shallots, a slaw of green mango, papaya and cabbage, served in a fresh baguette and coated in homemade Baba sauce. It may not reduce the town’s irritant canine population but it is a welcome addition to Kampot’s wider menu options. Other choices include Johnny’s special fried rice and his grilled bratwurst with onions and salad in a fresh baguette. On the side of virtue, meanwhile, every meal sold at KC provides support for feeding two children in Phnom Penh through Buckhunger, a local NGO established by Johnny to help feed hungry street families in the capital (www.buckhunger.com). Go for: Simple and innovative food. Ask for: A Kampot Dog or the grilled bratwurst.
Street Food – “It’s not Vietnam”
Riverside, Street 700 & Street 730
Cambodia has never been able to carry off the same street food appeal of Thailand and Vietnam. That said, Kampot offers as good a place as any to try the Khmer take on streetside fare. The riverside is a good place to locate corn (ensure you get the steamed yellow variety and not the barbequed white kind), spam in a baguette and sugarcane juice. Street 700 is the home of the deadly sweet fruit shakes (look out for the long lines of tables with the display fruit and blenders). Beyond Rikitikitavi, on Street 730, you can find numerous fried skewer sellers who, for 1000 riel, offer crabmeat, tofu and ground meatballs, which they will fry in front of you and serve with leafy greens. Seating is offered on tiny outdoor plastic chairs and tables. Go for: Inexpensive and local. Ask for: A crabmeat skewer with a cold Cambodia (the fresh corn isn’t bad either). Hot baguettes, great value big breakfasts, roasted house blend coffee, fresh gnocchi, riverside cocktails, sushi and more: Kampot is in the middle of an epicurean explosion. Even as we speak, new culinary establishments are being built at an exponential rate, so it’s well worth the trip to check out what more the former “sleepy city” will have to offer by that stage. Yet, while things move quickly and establishments come and go with an alarming regularity in the Kingdom, there is a reassuring solidity about the Kampot food scene, particularly in its ubiquitous home-cooked style and quality.
It is Friday evening and my Russian friend is hosting her birthday party at Irina, one of only two Russian restaurants in town. Surreptitiously standing near the intersection of St. 294 and 29 and hidden behind a tall metallic fence, the restaurant can be quite hard to spot.
The decoration is intriguing but uninspired, perhaps; a tad too cold. Russian memorabilia adorns the walls. A display cabinet in the corner showcases paraphernalia as varied as a small china plate bearing the portrait of Stalin and a clay figurine of a tatar in traditional attire.
I sit at the long table and join the dozen or so expats waiting for appetisers. Immediately, I am presented with a chilled shot of Russian vodka. The spirit goes down smoothly, and, within seconds, I begin to feel a little dazed. Its lack of taste is proof of its high calibre. You can also order Singaporean distilled vodka, which is generally known to be of great quality.
The waiters soon bring plates of brined herring and pickled vegetables. Along with a shot, the set is referred to in the menu as “Russian snack and shot of vodka” ($5.80). The fish, topped with thin slices of onion and macerated with greens of dill, is deliciously sour, just like the marinated tomato, cucumber and mushroom. The second shot of vodka intensifies the daze.
Soups are an important part of Russian cuisine, and borshch ($4.60), a cold beetroot soup, is a must in any self-respecting Russian feast. This one is salty and refreshing, with the irresistible aroma of fresh dill. I sink a dollop of smetana (a type of sour cream omnipresent in Russian cuisine) and the rich pinkish hue of the soup becomes several shades lighter.
At this point, the table is filled with all sorts of dishes, but one seems to be drawing more attention than the rest: everyone wants some pelmeni ($4). Luckily, I manage to get myself a couple before they run out. These pork-filled dumplings, juicy and savoury, will not disappoint even the most intransigent of connoisseurs. Naturally, you have smetana and vinegar at your disposition for dipping needs. The pirogi ($4), potato-filled dumplings of unleavened dough, is another dish that causes a stir at the table.
Bliny are thin pancakes prepared from batter and cooked on a hot frying pan. Today I find them rolled up and stuffed with minced meat ($4.80) and, I must admit, the result is surprising. The filling is dry, but this somehow works out for the better in combination with the pancakes.
Off the menu, you can ask for some syriniki ($4), fried quark (farmer’s cheese) pancakes garnished with smetana. The contrast of flavours in this hidden jewel –the sweetness of the pancake and the salty smetana – will put a big smile on your face.
The cheque, which includes copious amounts of vodka and wine, comes to $15 per person. Irina is definitely not cheap, but excellent food always comes at a cost. The service is just okay and could be improved. All in all, if you are looking for authentic Russian in Phnom Penh, then Irina is your place.
Hot season is upon us. Instead of sweating into your bobor, try cooling down with a bowl of chilled gazpacho, a tasty Spanish delicacy fit for an emperor (or, in this case, empress)
As the author of the book World Food: Spain (Lonely Planet), I’m always on the lookout for things Iberian. And while there are a surprising number of Spaniards here in El Phnom, the Spanish connection is much older than you might think. Spaniards and their Portuguese cousins were the first Europeans to set foot in this town. Missionaries like Gaspar de la Cruz (1556) and soldiers of fortune like Blas Ruiz de Hernán González (1592) established a string of outposts along the Tonle Sap from here to Lovek, the interim capital at the time. De la Cruz is said to have harvested a few souls, then went on his way. Gonzalez meddled in Cambodian politics and came to a bad end. But they (or their fellows) left something behind of lasting value: the tomato.
Tomatoes, and many other common fruits and vegetables, are indigenous to the Americas. They were unknown to Europe or Asia before Columbus (1492). From Mexico and Peru the Spanish went seeking further fields of conquest, their ships laden with the abundance of the New World. They came here to PP. Now, there is no historic document that says, “On this day, a bunch of Spanish dudes arrived bearing tomatoes, and they were good.” But we know that the seeds were in Spanish ships out of the Americas bound for the Orient. And we know that they spread them widely. Even to here. So there is a special Spanish connection when we enter a local house of degustation and order gazpacho.
Gazpacho, often defined simply as cold tomato soup, is so much more. It’s not easy to pin down and define with exactitude, but there are common threads: fresh tomatoes, Spanish olive oil, wine vinegar, garlic and bread incorporated into the dish or served alongside. It originated, as did so many European dishes, as peasant fare. And peasant fare often percolates its way up through the social strata, expanding and evolving in its usages. Its elevation from the Andalucian table to points beyond is credited to Eugenie de Montijo, the Spanish wife of the French Emperor Napoleon III in the 19th Century.
Where to find it? There is a well-known place in BKK1 serving a cup of tasteless red liquid called gazpacho. A lovely little garden café off Norodom offers a pink, sugary pudding desecrating the name gazpacho. And there is a fancy-schmancy joint near Monivong that serves a green glop with the sacred name. But the best gazpacho I’ve tasted here is at the French-owned Cyclo Hotel. It’s light, tangy and refreshing, seasoned to perfection and bearing a whiff of garlic in due proportion. Taken on the shady corner terrace on a sultry afternoon, it’s a tonic for tropical heat. Before dinner it’s a fine aperitif, stimulating the gastric juices in preparation for the great gastronomic labour ahead. Be sure to whisper thanks to the Empress Eugenia for the fine French connection.
