Right from the beginning of our stay in Siem Reap, James and I immediately dived into the unfamiliar world of Khmer cuisine. Strangely, as we had our first ever fish amok for dinner, the taste reminded me of some Central Javanese dishes my mom used to cook at home. There was a gentle sweetness to it with a savory and herbaceous undertone, layered on top of the rich yet comforting flavor coconut milk never fails to bring. There were certainly herbs and spices in it, but that night I could only think of galangal as one of those ingredients.
Our local food exploration continued the next day at Pou, a restaurant just around the corner from where we stayed. It was here where we were introduced to modern Khmer cooking, as interpreted by the talented Mengly Mork, a young chef who had trained at one of the internationally-branded hotels in the city before venturing out on his own. He turns traditional recipes into beautifully-presented contemporary dishes while staying true to their roots. I love noodles – any kind of it – and naturally I was drawn to that section on the menu. Num banh chok was my choice, largely because of its intriguing description as fermented rice noodles served with “smashed fish curry”. As it turned out, the light fermentation gave the main carb of the dish a soft, but not mushy texture. Mixed well with the thick sauce made from freshwater fish, and eaten with thinly sliced banana blossom and yellow vegetable hummingbird (Sesbania grandiflora) flowers, together they created a symphony of flavors in my mouth. The chili on the side added a nice kick which was surprisingly quite potent even for me, who grew up having hot peppers.
The fish amok we had at Tevy’s Place on our first night in Siem Reap
Beef cha kroeung, Tevy’s Place
We were impressed with our first meal at Pou, for not only was it delicious, but also because it opened up our palate to a flavor-and-texture profile we were never exposed to before. However, we made sure to visit other places as well to see their takes on delightfully surprising Khmer food. For lunch on our second day in the city, we headed to Jomno, one of the highly-rated restaurants in Siem Reap according to online sources. We tried some local dishes with different proteins: from Battambang-style sausage served with banana blossom salad to grilled chicken with bright yellow korko stew and river prawn larb (minced salad). If anything, everything we had for this lunch further affirmed the wide variety of tastes in Cambodian cuisine. It was so much more complex than the flavors of the lok lak I had eleven years earlier.
This complexity can be attributed to kroeung, a broad term that describes a spice blend which often forms the base for many Khmer dishes. When I learned about it, I couldn’t help but draw another similarity between Cambodian and Indonesian cuisines where we use bumbu, our version of kroeung. Both kroeung and bumbu share a lot of ingredients in common, including garlic, shallot, chili, lemongrass, galangal, fingerroot, and sand ginger, among many other spices, herbs, and rhizomes. Of course, variations exist, depending on the region. But the concept is basically the same. Bumbu is so essential in Indonesian cooking it was hard for my late mom to grasp the idea that Cantonese cooking doesn’t really use bumbu when she asked James about the recipes of some common dishes in Hong Kong – ginger, scallion, garlic, and soy sauce usually do the trick.
On the subsequent days of our stay in Siem Reap, we found ourselves returning to Pou multiple times. Unsurprising, given our very satisfying first meals there and also due to its proximity to our accommodation. We made sure to have some more num banh chok, although with different toppings, including roasted duck breast in green curry and fried redtail catfish in tamarind sauce. However, they also had intriguing dishes on the menu we made sure to try. Red tree ants in a soup? Bee larvae inside the honeycomb? To me these unusual ingredients gave the impression of being more authentic and honest than the tarantulas that have been sensationally put on show by many foreigners in Cambodia on their social media accounts. There was, however, another reason for our repeated visits to this particular restaurant: we were curious about its cooking class. Before deciding to sign ourselves up, we wanted to make sure that the food was good and genuine – not the kind that has been toned down to suit international tourists’ palates.
The most delicious fish amok I have ever tasted, Pou
On a rather overcast morning, we were joined by a German-Iranian couple from Frankfurt for a half-day excursion to a traditional market which was then followed by the cooking class back at Pou. Led by Chef Mengly himself, we took a remork (the Cambodian version of a tuk-tuk) and headed to Psah Kraom market. At first glance, it appeared very similar to the traditional markets in Indonesia, although I can imagine it must have been a world away from the ones found in Germany. But on closer inspection, there were items even I wasn’t familiar with. Some of the fish species were different from what I’m more used to, as were a few herbs and vegetables. At some vendors, I noticed large amounts of ground spice paste which was either yellow or red. That was kroeung.
When we were back at Pou, an open-air section of the restaurant was already transformed into our cooking corner. Small bowls, cutting boards, knives, portable stoves, and other utensils were laid out on top of a long table hewn from timber. While each of us had our own tools to make a ginger-infused milk pudding, a prawn and pomelo salad, and a fish amok, the ambiance was a lot warmer and more communal than other cooking classes I had taken in the past. Maybe it was because of the way we were seated which was very close to one another. But I think the good conversations we had with the other two participants earlier that morning tremendously helped to create an easy camaraderie among us.
I already liked the fish amok we had on our first night in Siem Reap. But Chef Mengly’s rendition tasted even better with a lot more depth in flavor. Through this cooking class, I found out that galangal is indeed used in the recipe, just like what I had suspected. If you closed your eyes and took a spoonful of this dish without knowing what it was, you would immediately know it’s Southeast Asian. Centuries of trade relations among nations in the region has allowed commercial goods, including spices and herbs, to move across borders and find their way into people’s homes. In fact, lok lak, that stir-fry beef I had in Cambodia in 2011, is a Khmer adaptation of a Vietnamese dish called bò lúc lắc. Thai and Lao influences can also be found in some of the local dishes we had in Siem Reap, including the river prawn larb we had in Jomno.
Thanks to its geographical position in Mainland Southeast Asia, Cambodia naturally acts as a confluence of flavors where distinct characters of regional dishes meet the Khmer’s own way of cooking where balance among each component of a delicacy is key. However, if there is one ingredient this country does better than the others it’s probably Kampot pepper. Named after a province in the southern part of the kingdom, this prized type of pepper is a certified geographical indication product that has made its way to the global market. With the existence of restaurants like Pou, Jomno, and Mahob (which we went to on our last day in the city to try their delicious prahok ktis) where Khmer cuisine takes center stage, it’s not unreasonable to feel optimistic for the future of Cambodian food. It might eventually follow the trail the country’s pepper has blazed, and one day Cambodia will not only be known for its magnificent ancient temples, but also for its delectable cuisine that truly deserves more attention and appreciation.
Battambang-style sausage with banana blossom salad, Jomno
Larb of river prawn, pork, and diced green beans in lime vinaigrette, Jomno