It's All About the Food

Anyone who knows me knows that, for me, it's all about the food.

A little tired from five days of biking, I decided to take a day to do not much of anything, which is not that like me, but it seemed like a really good idea to just hang out and write and read and rest, maybe get a Khmer massage. I had a huge leisurely breakfast and then back to my room to relax. It wasn't too long before I started thinking about this blog, actually, and how I wanted to write about how much I love the food here.

It started something like this, with a small complaint at the outset, followed by praise and adoration for the rest of the entry:

I love my tea, and I really kind of need it to get started in the morning--like some people need their coffee. Herbal tea has its place, as does decaf, but I need black tea--English Breakfast, Irish Breakfast, English Teatime. I hold a special place in my heart for Earl Grey (sorry you purists). I love English tea (Red Label, Tetley's, PG Tips) largely because they seem to be more full-bodied, bold, and fragrant. My son has pointed out to me that he thinks I have a "problem," and perhaps he's right. I have missed my tea here. It has been surprisingly elusive to find a proper cup of tea. The Green tea is just fine, but to start the day I need a real cup of tea with lemon and sugar or milk (preferably half and half, forget the nonfat stuff) and sugar, or just straight. 

That said, I can live without my other familiar and loved foods, namely chocolate. Whatever. I'll get back to you soon enough. The fact is, I am in love with Khmer cuisine. And I have been trying to figure our what the most important staples to try in my short time here. Soups seem to be big and common (see previous post, "Don't Worry" for just how big). I asked about food recommendations from Sum; he obliged (we actually had many meals together if you count the breakfasts that he ate while I drank tea!). I tried lok lak, Khmer curry, fish Amok ( several times) and three dishes I shared with Sum and Lucky on our day out to Banteay Srei. This was my last touring day with them, and Sum was a little more relaxed about things, so he informed me that we would all eat together and share, and so he ordered: morning glory soup with basil, shredded ginger with beef, and some unknown vegetable with egg in a sauce that I couldn't identify. It was almost smokey and bitter tasting, and the texture of the vegetable was somewhere between a melon and okra.  While it wasn't my favorite of the three, but when I put some fish sauce and chili on it it was really quite excellent. 

Last night I had Cambodian BBQ down the street from me at a resaurant that Sum suggested. There were a few meats that I recognized and a whole bunch that I didn't, but I put a bunch of stuff on my tray and tried to negotiate my table BBQ, which is more like a domed reverse wok in which you put some fat substance on the top which then melts down as your meats/soya cook. They then make their way into the moat which holds noodles and veggies and whatever manner of things you deem important, and it all cooks up into a highly tasty (if somewhat mysterious in my case) stew.

I have also had my fair share of Street food. It's cheap, often fried--what else could one ask? Some might argue that it's not safe, but most of the "restaurants" that I have eaten at here don't have traditional kitchens anyway. Go ahead, take your prophylactic Pepto Bismol  and eat your street food!

I love the way interactions around food can bring out what is real in us, even if that is discomfort on a blind date, or joy around a family dinner table (or vice versa). It gives us an opportunity to share in the sacred act of nourishing and caring for our bodies. But it can also be fun and joyous, even educational, as my Khmer cooking class was today. Our cooking instructor was a young 27 year-old Cambodian whose mother died (they lived in a village) when she was six; her father became an alcoholic and died a couple of years later. The children were sent out to different aunts and uncles to become part of their families. Out instructor told the story of how she became one of the chefs at the restaurant. She also said, in rather a cheery demeanor, and honestly, I think, that she didn't know how to cry, she was so young at the time, but that she did know how to cook, and to share her life through her food. And her food through the stories of her life.

Any one who knows me knows that, for me, it's all about the stories.