Category: Food

Dish: Under the awnings

It is possible to be a tourist in your own town. Since an influx of expatriates have adopted parts of the city as home, it’s easy to live in blissful ignorance of the ‘real’ Phnom Penh, still alive in the local markets and winding alleys. These are the sites which do not appear on your tuk tuk driver’s picture card alongside the National Museum and S21.

O’Russei Market is one of them. It might seem a little daunting at first: it’s the most densely populated market in Phnom Penh. The heavy concrete is absolutely necessary to the holding of this number of people, shoes and appliances. It’s not a place you would stop off for a quiet coffee and piece of cake, but don’t think that means you can’t get them there. You can. It’s especially worth a visit if you fancy fried crickets.

Starting on the west side of the market, opposite a line of fabric stalls where rolls of glittering, gaudy, then plain black and denim fabrics sit beneath canvas awnings, is the fruit market. A group of stalls create a walkway into the ground floor of the three-storey market. Before you are engulfed by the darkness, take a seat at the brohet stall.

If you have ever been wearied by the dull brown of beef or the yawn-inspiring off-white of chicken, this is the cuisine for you. Just don’t try to work out what you’ve ordered until you eat it. Pork (or crab) comes wrapped in a green coating which, when fried, becomes crispy and brittle; the traditional British rhubarb sweet seems to be the inspiration for one stick of rolled red and white meat and, of course, the platter wouldn’t be complete without the Angry Bird kebab (a local delicacy, don’t you know).

But don’t be afraid! It may look strange and vaguely dangerous, but the pork (or crab) balls are delicious, no matter what shape or colour they come in. At $1 for three kebabs and two fried vegetable sides, it’s a dish worthwhile experimenting with.

Head left before you reach the entrance proper and walk past the fruit stalls to the northwest corner of O’Russei. Nom banh chok awaits: a reassuringly recognisable dish of rice noodles and curry. This is great if your iron levels are running low: chunks of dark, jelly like chicken blood float beneath the surface of the immense curry pot on the table. A steal at $1 for your basic vegetable, carbohydrate and protein intake, you might be tempted to splash out on the prawn spring rolls: a mere 1500 riel each.

Now enter the belly of the O’Russei market beast. Apart from your daily groceries, sugared tamarind can be bought from a moving cart for $4 per kilo. As with most Cambodian market stalls, you can try before you buy.

Walking straight through to the east side of the market and into the light will arrive you at the jelly jah hoi stall. Those with an extremely sweet tooth will find their sugar cravings satisfied by a concoction of jelly, condensed milk, coconut milk and beans, which you can design yourself. It’s a bit like pick ‘n’ mix, but wetter.

The scariest things in life (and cuisine) are scary because they’re unknown. Spend an afternoon away from your favourite air-conditioned cafe, save a little money and face your fear: Angry Bird kebabs.

O’Russei Market (Psar O’Russei), north of Olympic Stadium.

 

Dish: To Sesame Street

As coffee shops spawn in the Wat Lanka area (even international coffee company Costa Coffee finally got the memo) and a plethora of bars spring up between the already densely populated Riverside and Street 51, it seems that the Russian Market is beginning to develop a specialty all its own. For small, independently owned cafes, bars and restaurants, you need to head to the south of the city.

In December last year, Russian Market locals welcomed the opening of Sesame Noodle Bar: a small restaurant whose culinary forte is a dish widely available in Cambodia. Noodles are not widely available like this, though. Set apart from the oftentimes warm, bordering on sauna-like covered market’s food stalls and the expensive Riverside hotspots is this little hideaway, located on street 460 amid private houses and a few beer gardens.

The building itself hasn’t been changed from its original layout. The Chinese-Cambodian-style ground floor still stretches out beneath the balcony of the first floor but the exposed light-bulbs and retro toys bespeak trendy London/New York drinking spots, and the posters which adorn the back wall, American canteen.

The hybrid of styles evinced in the decor is mirrored in the cooking, which takes inspiration from Japanese and Chinese cuisine and, like the restaurant, the menu is small but unique. Underscoring the whole is, unsurprisingly, noodles. The choice for the main meal is between one of two dishes, each of which contain pork. Vegetarians and observant Hebrews need not despair, however. The list of side dishes offers two vegetarian options and sesame chicken.

Sesame Noodle Bar is a great example of simple food, done to perfection. “If the menu can’t fit on an A5 paper, it’s too big,” exclaim the owners (via their well-maintained website, sesamenoodlebar.com). Ordering one of three lunch specials, the Pork Buns with Sesame House Noodle, proves that pork can be the highlight of a meal, twice. Tender, sweet and tangy, the meat reinvigorates an otherwise simple vegetarian noodle dish.

The driving concept behind Sesame Noodle Bar is to create food for the climate. Unlike larger restaurant and cafe chains, the owners of Sesame Noodle Bar allow the location to define what’s served. Noodles are served chilled and the side dishes are light. In fact, one diner likened her experience of the Mighty Thor Buns to “eating little clouds”.

Not to make Sesame Noodle Bar appear too distant from its counterparts, the owners have also taken inspiration from their neighbours, who have been serving nom banh chop in the Russian Market for decades. Food is prepared behind a high counter, but in the same space as the customers. It is fast, but it is also fresh.

A word of warning: the decision to maintain the original architecture means that seating space is limited, but the open-plan bar/kitchen/restaurant lends a sense of intimacy rather than claustrophobia, and solitary diners wouldn’t feel awkward sitting at the bar with a book (or a copy of The Advisor). Go with a friend or go alone, but go, if only to play with the toys which sit atop the bar.

Sesame Noodle Bar, ‘The Real’ #9, Street 460 (just east of the Russian Market)

 

Dish: Doggie style

A quick online search (keeping it investigative here at The Advisor HQ) makes shocking reading for dog-loving Phnom Penhites; there are, putatively, no dog-friendly eating establishments in the city. Apart from PyongYang North Korean Restaurant, of course, but that’s a whole different food review right there.

“Sorry!” gushes bringfido.com, with the kind of pseudo-chagrin in which the North American service industry specialises. “There are no pet-friendly restaurants in Phnom Penh. If you happen to know of a dog-friendly restaurant in Phnom Penh, use the form below to tell us about it and you could win a $25 restaurant.com gift certificate good at nearly 10,000 restaurants nationwide!” Unless you eat that $25 gift certificate, it looks like you and Fido might starve in this town.

But as Henry, Charles and Claude breakfasted at Brown Coffee and Bakery this week, things looked very different. Henry is a Brown regular, accompanying his human Laura Joy Kiddle almost daily for a cappuccino and a dandyish flirtation with fellow canines. Brown staff draw the line at letting animals inside their hallowed AC-ed halls, but they do smile kindly at your caffeine-crazed canines and exclaim ‘So cuuuuute!’ just enough to ensure you leave feeling like some sort of blushing bride from the censored pages of the Bestiary.

The Shop on Street 240 is Claude and Charles’ regular breakfast haunt, where they’re often joined by Subi, a matronly spaniel. Once again, the dogs are technically restricted to the outdoor area, although it’s not unknown for Claude to be found in dangerous propinquity to the patisserie counter. Staff are dog lovers and will tell you tales of their own much loved pooches; recklessly pretty Rithy has five dogs of his own and lavishes so much attention on the doggie diners that he has been known to leave Claude and Charles’ owner wishing momentarily she were less human and more canine.

Java is a terrific lunch option for you and your dog, because you can sit upstairs on the balcony and therefore cease to feel as though you’re spending your life in some sort of patio-ed purgatory. It’s the unending patience of the staff which makes your doggie dining experience here so charming: waiters run and chase your manic poodle progeny, remembering their names from visit to visit, solicitously enquiring after their health if you appear without the fluffy ones in tow, and assiduously providing drinking water and shady places for puppies to nod off.

If you feel like a more solitary lunch (let us not beat around the proverbial shrubbery: if you lunch at Java you may – nay will – have to converse with every single person you know and have ill-advisedly snogged at some point) then Nature And Sea on Street 278 welcomes dogs and people equally. Dogs more so in fact because the waitress is mad about them, and slightly less mad about having to schlep up and down in the tropical heat carrying cheese crepes all day. Doggies love to torment the resident cats up here overlooking Wat Langka, and since the kitchen is on a different level all those Health and Safety bores can rest assured there will be no ‘dog germs’ (which are in fact mythical) near your food.

Should you be lucky enough to score a date with a human in this town and would like to take your dog along to emphasise your fun and frolicsome nature (or just for protection; one never knows, after all) there are plenty of options. Local legend Yumi provides romance, Japanese izakaya-inspired delicacies and lashings of banoffie pie. Chef/manager/owner/all-round good-egg Caspar Von Hofmannsthal says: “As Yumi is a casual dining restaurant, we have many customers who bring their dogs with them. We do ask them to be on a lead so as not to disturb other guests and only dine in the garden for hygiene purposes. We are, however, happy to provide cool water for the dogs to wash down their meals with.” Charles disregarded the water rule entirely, but luckily the photographic evidence of his whisky sour rampage has been destroyed by his judicious mother.

Le Jardin, recent winner of The Advisor’s first annual poll of Best Place To Take Your Kids, is in fact also the best place to take your dog. That baby gate and sand pit were in fact (probably) put in place to keep your doggies safe and sabay while you quaff French wines, pretend to read Le Figaro and pretend, for some precious time at least, that you are not responsible for dogs.

If you’re in the mood for something a little more formal, Deco on Street 352 fits the bill of fare. Its large outdoor area and coo-coo-ca-choo ambience make it an equally good option for dogs and dating. Charles and Claude poodled their way inelegantly through succulent lamb burgers, sticky toffee puddings and negronis decadently, before falling off their bicycle in a totally unrelated incident on their wobbly way home. Deco was charming to the canine reprobates from start to finish and, once they’ve recovered from the Campari, Charles and Claude will certainly be returning for more.

So, we expect you shall at this moment be frantically taking up your pens and writing to bringfido.com to correct their errors. After all, folks, those $25 gift vouchers may be limited.

 

Dish: Edible India

Food arrives as soon as you sit down – a glass of chilled water, baskets of poppadoms and Indian chips, and relish pots of spicy, green raita, pickled radish in mustard oil that is pleasantly bitter, jam-like tamarind relish, and pickled shallots the colour of cochineal

IT seems only fitting that a country so historically influenced by Indian food should have its fair share of decent curry houses. But if only that were true. There are many Indian restaurants – or, far worse, Western eateries that claim to serve authentic Indian curries – here in Cambodia. But most of them have as much in common with the distinctive aromas and flavours of the Indian subcontinent as a whelk stall in Bognor Regis.

Thankfully there is a place, just off Riverside on Street 130, that could hold its own in Mumbai or London, and I’ve eaten there many times and never been disappointed. It might not have the catchiest name – Sher-E-Punjabi – but my word it does some great dun-coloured, spice-packed stews.

It’s a small, welcoming space, with labial pink decor and Chinese prints on the wall. The service is always excellent and friendly, and there’s often a TV in the corner playing Indian soap operas with the usual pantomime acting.

Food arrives as soon as you sit down – a glass of chilled water, baskets of poppadoms and Indian chips, and relish pots of spicy, green raita, pickled radish in mustard oil that is pleasantly bitter, jam-like tamarind relish, and pickled shallots the colour of cochineal.

The manager always asks whether “you want spicy or not” and even if, like me, you say very spicy, there‘s never such a punch of heat that you can’t taste anything else. The menu is long, with traditional curry house favourites such as vindaloo, madras, and roasted meats from the tandoor oven, sitting alongside more unusual Indian and Mughlai dishes.

The last time I went, our party ordered the meat thali – six dishes on a metal tray – which is excellent value at $7. It included a splendid thick daal, an ode in praise of the lentil, smacking of cumin and ginger; a delicious but small portion of chicken curry, expertly cooked and packed full of flavour; basmati rice; thick slices of raw onion and cucumber, and onion raita. The only downside was the rather sickly pea-strewn vegetable offering swamped in cream and tiny pieces of paneer curd cheese made by heating milk and lemon juice.

Of the mains, the best of the lot was the mutton curry, in which long-braised bits of meat had flaked into a thick, toothsome sauce. Sadly, the chicken vindaloo was not so good, with pronounced but not completely unwelcome sweet notes. It was far removed from the legendary sour, tomato-packed Goan dish, and there were more potato chunks than chicken. The naan breads were the size of saucepan lids though, thin and crisp and nicely scorched in the tandoor.

A group of Indian businessmen walked in and were soon tucking in merrily while discussing the merits of curries in luxury restaurants in Delhi. “I didn’t get much lamb, man; they’re not very generous with the meat,” said one of them afterwards.

And that is the one criticism of the place. The meat curries are delicious but rather stingy. But the food is marked by a skill that I’ve only seen matched in Cambodia by Siem Reap’s original India Gate restaurant, which considering its chef-owner spent 22 years cooking in a five-star hotel in India is quite an accomplishment. You emerge light, and the freshness and vivacity to the cooking means you don’t feel, as you can in many Indian restaurants, that there is an anvil loitering in the bottom of your stomach, waiting to enact its revenge.

Sher-E-Punjabi-I Restaurant, #16 Street 130; 092 992901 or 023 216360.

 

Dish: Out of the frying pan

My muscles ached and my stomach rumbled as I collapsed into the chair to admire the fruit, or fish, of my hard labour. Before me sat a plate of Cambodia’s prize dish, an aromatic golden amok, delicately decorated with coconut cream and shredded lime leaves and red chilli, served up in a banana leaf bowl. It looked and smelt great.

Being a ‘probably could cook but can’t be bothered’ type of person, cookery classes aren’t my thing. But in the short time I’ve been in Cambodia, I’ve been won over by the cuisine and was keen to find out more about what sets this country apart from the more well-known foods of neighbouring Thailand and Vietnam.

So I signed up to Frizz restaurant’s cookery class and started the day with a colourful trip to Kandal market to source

our ingredients amid the chaos of swaying, sweating slabs of meat and flapping fish heads taking their final gasps for air before landing at the rooftop terrace kitchen. Here, we spent the next five hours tirelessly shredding, squeezing, chopping, crushing, pounding, slicing and grinding as we worked up an appetite fit to scoff the food we served ourselves along the way.

First up was chaio yor, or fried spring rolls made with carrot, taro and peanuts – a dish that’s easy to make, right? Wrong. The key ingredient here is the taro root, which in its raw form is toxic, triggering a harsh itching in the throat.

After shredding it into strips, heaps of salt were added, the moisture massaged out and the taro pressed into small balls to be washed in clean water. To be sure, this was done not once, not twice, but three times.

Next was for me was the dish of the day – amok. Sold as Cambodia’s national dish, amok is a zesty, flavoursome steamed curried fish cooked in a banana leaf and involves enough gruelling grinding in the heavy mortar and pestle to make even Popeye break out in a sweat.

Finally finished, I tucked in, reluctant to ruin my creation, and, boy, was it worth the slog. With each chew came a new surprise. Smack, pop, pow: the sharp lemon grass, the sweet spice of the galangal and coconut juice, the tingle of the garlic, the bite of the salt, the spice of the chilli, the sour kick of the fish paste.

Then there’s the tigerfish that fell apart on my fork and melted in my mouth. Lip-smackingly delicious just doesn’t do it justice, and I’d actually created it – with a little help.

Feeling good, I ground my way through the afternoon to rustle up banana blossom salad made with mint, basil, fishwort, Asian coriander and chicken, followed by sticky rice and mango dessert, draped in palm sugar syrup.

But it was the amok that stayed with me and it was so damn good I’ve been craving it ever since. In fact, I ordered it the other day and it just wasn’t the same so it looks like I’ll have to get myself in the kitchen after all.

Cambodian Cooking Class, Frizz Restaurant, #67 St. 240 ($23 for a full day, $15 for a half day).

 

Top 5 Cambodian delicacies

Cambodian food doesn’t have a great press, and has long been overshadowed by its neighbours Vietnam and Thailand. But there is much more to this fresh, healthy cuisine with its seasonal dishes of bitter, sour, sweet, salty and umami flavours than meets the eye. Here are five of Cambodia’s best meals, all of which can be had for a few dollars – and deserve far wider recognition.

Boiled crab with salt, pepper and lime dip

Dish: This incredibly simple dip is made from sea salt, Cambodia’s world-beating Kampot pepper, and lime juice. You’ll get it with everything from hunks of spit-roast calf to green mango. But it goes best with freshly boiled blue swimmer crabs, which although contain little brown head meat, and virtually no morsels in the claws, more than make up for it with the generously fleshy chine. In restaurants, they usually serve a mix of two thirds freshly-ground black pepper to one third salt then carefully squeeze in two or three lime quarters and mix it in front of you. It might seem a laughably simple procedure, but they take it as seriously as a chef de rang would the preparation of crepe suzette, squeezing in the ‘correct’ amount of lime juice until there is the right moistness to the sauce.

Where: You’ll have few better days than sitting at a restaurant in Kep’s famous crab market, looking out to sea, while supping cold beer and dunking freshly boiled crab into this splendid dip.

Chicken porridge soup

Dish: Cambodia is truly the land of soups. I don’t think you’ll find a country with such a high proportion on menus, and there is nearly always a broth at every family meal. But of all the great soups in Cambodia, and there are plenty, this is my favourite. The bowl is always topped with nutty, browned garlic, and as you dig into the rice, there is the occasional limp crunch of bean sprouts and the pleasing discovery of a little piece of chicken or bone to suck on. Then there is the chicken stock, hinting of lime leaf and lemon grass, julienne strips of ginger, the soapy richness of blood pudding, and the yolks taken from the hens’ ovaries, which glint like amber pearls. I could go on…

Where: Food stalls in Phnom Penh’s Central Market. It’s a seething sauna, but the soups are second to none.

Prahok ling

Dish: This is an incredibly powerful meal, flavoured with Cambodia’s notoriously foul-smelling fermented fish paste, prahok. The paste is fried with hand-chopped pork, onion, garlic, egg, and chilli. And it’s so strong there are strict government laws in place to ensure you only get a small saucer of the stuff, which you eat with boiled jasmine rice and chunks of raw aubergine, cucumber, green tomato, and white cabbage to take the edge off the extremely pungent, blue cheese-like taste.

Where: Khmer Food Village, opposite NagaWorld in Phnom Penh, or Bopha Leak Khluon restaurant, near Hotel de la Paix, Siem Reap.

Cambodian dried fish omelette

Dish: The best version I’ve had was made with duck eggs and tiny smoked fish that had been soaked in brine, and then grilled over smouldering wood for eight hours until they were hard and chewy. But mostly dried fish are used. The fish are broken up into small pieces and then added to a pan with chopped onion and garlic and fried for a couple of minutes. A couple of beaten eggs and black pepper are added, and the omelette is served very thin and dry with a plate of crudités and rice.

Where: You’ll be hard pushed to find a better version than at Keur Keur Coffee Shop, #75 Street 118, Phnom Penh.

Grilled pork with rice and pickles

Dish: This is easily Cambodia’s best breakfast. There is something incredible in the way the pickled vegetables, chewy slices of grilled pork, and the clear pork broth work together with pickled chillies from the condiment trays. The pork is marinated for hours and then slowly grilled, and has a deliciously salty flavour and intense red colour. You pour spoonfuls of stock over the rice and pork and then dig in. The pickle is usually made from carrot, cucumber and daikon. They are cut on a mandolin into julienne strips and then salted. The water produced is drained off and then they are soused in a pickling mixture of water, vinegar, sugar, salt and spices. Think kimchi without all the PR.

Where: Any busy Khmer eatery at breakfast time. But get there before 10am – it’s usually all gone by then.

 

Dish: Dealing with the day after

Here at The Advisor we are, believe it or not, writers. And if there’s one thing writers know about, it’s drinking. Writing too, of course. But mainly drinking. From the beaded can of Angkor and the overpriced bottle of shiraz or rioja to the tequila, fags, vodka shots, hard drugs and frenetic sex with strangers, we know all about it.

But that, dear reader, is another story for another column. For today we wish to speak of drinking. Or more specifically the ramifications of drinking: the hangover. And who better to go to for advice on curing hangovers (For yes! They can be cured!) than that blushing doyenne of the brandy bottle, young Kingsley Amis?

An inveterate pisshead, Amis identified two facets to the hangover: the physical and the metaphysical. The perfect morning-after panacea, if it indeed exists, will attack both angles of your hangover. Ever at your service, we have scoured Phnom Penh to ensure you never again have to endure “that ineffable compound of depression… anxiety, self-hatred, sense of failure and fear of the future”.

Hangover food 1: Marmite

One reason many of us feel so bad the morning after a heavy drinking session is because alcohol depletes your system of essential nutrients, including B vitamins. A lack of B vitamins can cause anxiety and depression, so try munching on Marmite – a rich source of the vitamin B complex – to lift your mood. As an added benefit, Marmite has high sodium content which can help replace the salts lost through drinking alcohol. Try the savoury spread on toast for an added fix of carbs.

Hangover food 2: Watermelon

Not only does alcohol deplete your body of nutrients, it can also lead to low blood sugar levels, which may leave you feeling weak and shaky. To counteract this, try snacking on watermelon which is not just high in fructose but is also water-rich to boost hydration. On top of this, watermelon is high in many essential nutrients, including vitamin C, B-vitamins and magnesium.

Hangover food 3: Ginger

If too much boozing has left you feeling queasy, ginger is the perfect food to help settle your stomach and relieve nausea. While you may not feel much like chewing on the food in its original form, you could try adding some grated ginger to hot water for a ginger tea, blending it into a fresh fruit or vegetable juice, or snacking on ginger biscuits for a tummy soothing treat.

Hangover food 4: Eggs

Scrambled, fried or boiled, eggs are a popular hangover breakfast, and the good news is they are a great choice for beating the nastiest of hangovers. Firstly, eggs are extremely rich in protein, which helps raise mood-boosting serotonin levels, as well as reducing nausea. Furthermore, eggs are rich in an amino acid called cystine, which helps fight the alcohol-induced toxins contributing to your hangover.

Hangover food 5: Bananas 

Bananas are packed with potassium and magnesium, two of the minerals often depleted in our bodies when alcohol is consumed. A lack of potassium in the body can lead to nausea, weakness and tiredness, so stocking up on bananas can help reduce these classic hangover symptoms. As an added bonus bananas are natural antacids, so great for reducing stomach acid, and are good for providing a boost of energy if you have a busy day ahead.

Hangover food 6: Coconut juice

That thundering morning-after headache that feels like the publican used your brain as a trampoline is largely the result of dehydration, and few things are better than the juice of a young coconut to quell the thumping. Coconut water contains five electrolytes – three more than Gatorade – and the juice is similar enough to human blood that it can safely be used intravenously as a rehydration fluid. Furthermore, coconut water is low in sugar and calories and high in potassium, vitamin C and anti-oxidants, which boozing causes your body to shed.

What not to have: Hair of the dog

Unless you’re a committed aficionado of benders and blackouts, drinking more alcohol the morning after the night before is unlikely to genuinely improve your condition. Sure, a few pints might make you think you feel better, but only because you’re drunk again. And in such an inebriated state, you’re in no position to diagnose what condition you’re condition is in.

And, finally, any conversation about drinking, hangovers, cures and false remedies would be incomplete without a mention of Mongolia’s ancient hangover secret: pickled sheep eyes in tomato juice.
You definitely don’t want any of that.

Dish: On the bubble

The year: 248,000 BC. Ug returns to his village aglow with pride, eager to share his discovery of strange new magic which could warm his family during the winter. He calls it ‘fire’. No longer will his people be forced to survive on nuts and berries; ‘fire’ gives them the option of eating a nut, berry and woolly mammoth soufflé. Thus, more or less, the practice of cooking was born.

In archaeological terms, it wasn’t all that long ago that homo sapiens switched from being omnivores to what Heribert Watzke, the chemist who set up the food material science department at Nestlé in Switzerland, calls ‘coctivores’ – taken from the Latin coquere (‘to cook’). As we humans have gradually altered, augmented and processed our food, taking it further and further away from its natural form, our diets have changed us. Folk in Australia and the States are now taking the initiative to go back to their roots. Rather than trading in their shirts and phones for loincloths and clubs, however, they’re eating food as nature intended: raw.

Raw foodism – the practice of eating foods cooked no higher than 104°F (40°C) – was started in the late 19th century by Swiss doctor Maximilian Bircher-Benner, better known for inventing muesli. It wasn’t until the 1980s that it became popularised by the book Raw Energy – Eat Your Way to Radiant Health, which advocates a 75% raw diet rich in seeds, sprouts and fresh vegetable juices as a means to fight disease, slow the ageing process, and improve emotional health.

In the past ten years, raw foodism has become increasingly popular in Australia and America, particularly in California where actor Woody Harrelson has opened his own raw restaurant. But if you think raw foodists are nothing but carrot nibblers, think again: menus comprise far more than simple salads. And as James Stewart, owner of RAWsome raw food supermarket in California, says: “When you start eating raw protein and whatnot, you actually can feel it within minutes or hours. It’s that quick. Energetically, your body feels clean. You don’t feel challenged or bogged down, you don’t get tired.”

Central to raw food theory is the fact that cooking food destroys natural enzymes – the life force within food which triggers digestion – exhausting the poor old pancreas. We might feel fine eating cooked food, but that’s largely because most of us have never experienced the alternative. The first place to offer that alternative here in Phnom Penh is ARTillery, where the menu – already more vegan-friendly than most – has been expanded to include several raw dishes.

“Eating raw food gives me more energy and it was that that started it,” says co-owner Emma, who trained under a raw food chef in Australia. “I was feeling quite sluggish here, drinking beers and eating a lot of rice. I was still vegetarian but I wasn’t feeling that great and I’m really into putting things in your food that can make you feel better.” Try it and brace yourself for what she describes as “a mental energy that you can’t get from any other diet”.

Take, for example, ARTillery’s raw pizza: to make the base, flax seeds, almonds and cashews are first ground finely then put into a dehydrator, which uses heat and air to reduce water content. They then add a salsa-esque topping and cashew ‘cream’ – essentially, cashews soaked in water then blended to make a fatty cream. Other choices include raw falafel; raw crackers with raw hummus; raw coconut and cashew pie; raw cheesecake, and a raw apple pie which could outdo any of its cooked counterparts in a county fair.

For the hardcore element, the arts cafe also offers a five-day ‘raw food cleanse’: three raw meals delivered to your door containing zero animal products, zero sugars, no processed fats and no preservatives, all washed down with booster shots, such as chlorophyll and spirulina, to reap the maximum health benefits.

After November’s initial test run, 17 out of 20 of ARTillery’s raw food experimentalists came back for more – despite one or two reporting the occasional craving for something hot. “It’s really for resetting your body,” says Emma. “It makes you analyse what you’re putting in your body and why, making sure you’re getting the most amount of nutrients from what you actually put inside.” To sign up for the next cleanse, starting December 3, call Emma on 078 985530. 

ARTillery, Street 240½ (near Mosaic Gallery); 078 985530.

 

Dish: A roundhouse kick to the tongue

*There was way too much Chuck Norris-related awesomeness for just one story – Ed
Originally formed as rest stops for travellers along China’s famed Silk Road, Dim Sum restaurants have become a culinary staple throughout Asia and even certain Western cities. As of September, adventurous souls travelling through Phnom Penh – or at least those drunken souls passing through Street 51 – can find a brand new spin on just such a place.

In a short time, Chuck Norris Dim Sum has caught the eyes and palates of a very diverse crowd. Many a barang are drawn in by the name and artwork and, according to owner, Mike, “come in and start laughing, whoever you are, and hopefully the conversation’s gonna be nice”. Meanwhile, the late-night club-hopping young Khmer crowd “probably don’t know who Chuck Norris is but they don’t care; they just want dim sum”. While they could survive on the hype generated by its name alone, attention to tradition and quality are not thrown out whatsoever. What separates Chuck Norris Dim Sum from other Chinese places in town is their unique combination of a traditionally trained Dim Sum chef from China and a creative team of one (Mike) from America.

This creative contrast has led to such dishes as the ‘wasabi bomb’ and BBQ Chinese chicken as well as a certain amount of friction. Says Mike: “He’s very particular on some things; some things he won’t change up. For example, we asked, ‘Oh, can you make a version of this without dried shrimp’ and he said, ‘Absolutely not.’ He refuses to.” Though working around these standards can sometimes be a challenge, it does much to balance Mike’s ideas with Chinese tradition. With Korean, Japanese, Chinese and American influences, Chuck Norris Dim Sum is as much a fusion of different cultures as the real Chuck Norris’ Chun Kuk Do fighting style. Without Westernising the flavour, they have presented one dish in particular as a challenge. The dumpling roulette, available in pork or vegetarian, consists of six dumplings: five normal ones and one sneaky bastard stuffed with spicy Chinese mustard (aka ‘Chuck Norris-style’). “Everyone dives in at one time, that’s the strategy. You all dive in and you don’t know who’s gonna get it.” Duly, we all dived in. Mike ate the wildcard and contorted his face in pain. “It’s at the border of ‘this is too much’. That’s what we wanted.” It’s what they achieved too; afterwards, we ordered another with all six made Chuck Norris-style (2-for- 1happy hour is 7-9pm every day; opening hours are 6pm to 5am).

In addition to the ubiquitous draft pull, they offer $2 mixed drinks (such as gin and tonic, whiskey and coke, rum and soda), and shots of Soju, which is a Korean version of sake. The difference: Soju is distilled, a la whiskey or vodka, and aged for several years; Sake is fermented, a la beer or wine. Taking it to the next level, vthey’ve gone so far as to infuse this liquor, as many bar owners do with vodka. Options include “Baby coconut, or lime, or chilli, spicy chilli, and – hold on; lemme check – it’s not quite ready yet, but there will be a passion fruit one as well.”

Chuck Norris Dim Sum follows the number one ethic of Chuck’s fighting style: “I will develop myself to the maximum of my potential in all ways.” Mike and his Dim Sum chef are constantly playing with flavours and menu items. “We’re gonna try to get more unique with the menu as time goes on. We were talking about a bacon-wrapped bombei pork dim sum. I’m not sure when that’ll be released, but we’re working on it.” Join Chuck Norris Dim Sum in its path towards righteousness and glory.

Chuck Norris Dim Sum, Golden Sorya Mall, St. 51 (between Heart of Darkness and Pontoon). Eat in and takeaway only.

 

Dish: Oodles of noodles

Adefinitive Cambodian breakfast or afternoon snack, num banh chok is so ubiquitous and well-loved that it’s often known simply as ‘Khmer noodles’. If you ask the average Cambodian about the dish, after telling you how delicious it is they’ll patiently explain to you that China didn’t invent noodles, they got the idea from num banh chok.

Num banh chok is the name of the noodles that are laboriously made by hand in heavy stone mills from fermented rice, but it’s also what the dishes made with these appetising noodles are called. In its simplest form, num banh chok – sometimes called num banh chok samlar Khmer – is the perfect dish to eat in warm weather: rice noodles topped with a cool fish gravy and crisp raw vegetables, including cucumbers, banana blossom, and water lily stems and fresh herbs, such as basil and mint.

Before the war, Phnom Penh’s most famous num banh chok came from a small town 15 kilometres outside of the city. In her book Cooking the Cambodian Way, Narin Jameson writes: “The dish was made from the very tasty fish in the Kampong Kantuot River, which runs through the town… the sellers made their own rice noodles and used vegetables from their own gardens. The only cost for this business was transportation from Kampong Kantuot to Phnom Penh, which was very little in the 1950s.”

There are many regional variations to the standard. There’s Kampot-style num banh chok, which relies on locally produced sweet dried shrimp, coconut cream, fish sauce and peanuts. Siem Reap has its own version, which has more garlic and coconut milk than the original, and is served with a sweet sauce called tik pha em. Sometimes, num banh chok is served with a curry chicken sauce made with shrimp paste and yams. Another version, num banh chok nam ya, features a red fish curry and is a delicacy often served at ceremonial occasions such as engagement or wedding ceremonies (if weddings aren’t your thing, you can also find it at the Russian Market).

 

Even the royals have their own version: num banh chok samlar makod, or rice noodles with crown sauce. The version cited in the most definitive English-language Khmer cookbook, The Cuisine of Cambodia by Nusara Thaitawat, comes from the first Cambodian cookbook, Princess Rasmi Sobhana’s opus The Cambodian Cookbook, released by the American Women’s Club of Cambodia in 1965. The royal version reflects the international taste of the royal household at the time and is made with chicken livers, Cognac and green peas.

But the history is far older and more storied that just one Cambodian princess. A popular Khmer folk legend about Thun Chey – a celebrated revolutionary and scholar – features the dish. In the legend, Thun Chey was effectively exiled from the Khmer Empire to China by the Khmer king who was scared of his power and popularity. In China, he was forced to resort to making a living selling num banh chok. The delicious dish quickly gained popularity with the Chinese, until even the emperor of China had heard about it. The emperor requested that Thun Chey bring the noodles to the palace and while he was tasting them, Thun Chey sneaked a look at the emperor’s face – an act that is strictly forbidden.

Predictably xenophobic, Thun Chey declares that the emperor of China looks like a dog, as opposed to the Khmer king who looks like the moon, and is promptly thrown in jail, only to be released and sent back to the Khmer empire soon after. Most Cambodians are familiar with the story and many will say that this is where China got the idea for noodles and the undeserved glory resulting from their invention.

If you want to try what may be the world’s first noodle yourself, you can find women walking around Phnom Penh in the mornings and early afternoon selling bowls of num banh chok out of baskets hanging off poles balanced on their shoulders, as well as at local markets including Psar Kandal and Psar Thmei.