Considering the history of Cambodia over the last decades of the 20th Century, it's perhaps not too surprising that Cambodians will eat just about anything. To mark the anniversary of her 21st birthday (OK, the 19th one), our friend and colleague Caroline organised a day out for a group of us on a Khmer cooking course, so we've now learned how tasty many of these things can be.
The course took place on the rooftop of a house near the Royal Palace, where ten of us aspiring chefs did our best not to stab or burn ourselves or each other for a whole day. We each had a cooker, stone mortar and pestle and a selection of very sharp knives, so it wasn't easy. Our teacher was a young Cambodian chap who really knew his onions.
The first part of the course, though, was a visit to the market. Although all the ingredients we were going to use had already been bought for us first thing that morning, we were introduced to the various vegetables, fruits and, especially, herbs that we would be using during the day.
Some of them were familiar, some vaguely so, and others definitely not. But what a wonderful assault on the senses they all made!
Meat and fish are to be found in abundance in the markets too, and it's amazingly fresh. If you go to the right markets, it's of excellent quality too.
Fish, though, predominates. Much of it is still alive and most of the rest is processed in some way, either by smoking, drying or salting. The dried shrimps are particularly good and we've been eating them in a variety of ways. The fact that Perry has since found out that the colouring they put in them hasn't been passed as safe for human consumption is a minor issue.
Some of the fish, however, appeals a little less. Hope there are no ex-Royal Navy personnel watching (they'll know what I mean...)
So we went back to the kitchen and started pounding our pestles. We started by making the most wonderful little spring rolls with vegetables, herbs and crushed peanuts. That was our mid-morning snack.
Some of them were familiar, some vaguely so, and others definitely not. But what a wonderful assault on the senses they all made!
Meat and fish are to be found in abundance in the markets too, and it's amazingly fresh. If you go to the right markets, it's of excellent quality too.
Fish, though, predominates. Much of it is still alive and most of the rest is processed in some way, either by smoking, drying or salting. The dried shrimps are particularly good and we've been eating them in a variety of ways. The fact that Perry has since found out that the colouring they put in them hasn't been passed as safe for human consumption is a minor issue.
Some of the fish, however, appeals a little less. Hope there are no ex-Royal Navy personnel watching (they'll know what I mean...)
So we went back to the kitchen and started pounding our pestles. We started by making the most wonderful little spring rolls with vegetables, herbs and crushed peanuts. That was our mid-morning snack.
Caroline admires Perry's pinny. Well, someone has to.
While digesting our delicious appetiser, it was time to get artistic. Below is a picture of the carrots we carved with our very little, but wickedly sharp, curved knives. Surprisingly, only one of the group managed to add human finger to the mix (and it wasn't either of us).
After that, we moved right on to preparing lunch: a banana flower salad. Banana flowers are odd, awkward but excellent. They look a little like an ear of corn that still has its sheath of outer leaves on at first, but once you peel off the outer layers, they are in fact made up of tightly packed layers of what seem to be a cross between leaves and petals. They are firm and crisp and, when sliced thinly, excellent to eat. However, slicing them has a couple of challenges. Although they don't feel sticky to the touch, once cut they exude a thick sap that does two things: first, it turns the cut pieces from a lovely creamy colour to an unpleasant-looking black. At the same time, the sap turns into a glue that will NEVER come out of your clothes. The solution is to put each piece into a bowl of water with lime juice in as soon as you cut it. We managed to do this step without anyone getting stuck. We then added herbs, crushed peanuts, carrot, some boiled chicken, dressing made from fish oil, ginger, chillies and shallots, and tucked in. It was good.
After that, we moved right on to preparing lunch: a banana flower salad. Banana flowers are odd, awkward but excellent. They look a little like an ear of corn that still has its sheath of outer leaves on at first, but once you peel off the outer layers, they are in fact made up of tightly packed layers of what seem to be a cross between leaves and petals. They are firm and crisp and, when sliced thinly, excellent to eat. However, slicing them has a couple of challenges. Although they don't feel sticky to the touch, once cut they exude a thick sap that does two things: first, it turns the cut pieces from a lovely creamy colour to an unpleasant-looking black. At the same time, the sap turns into a glue that will NEVER come out of your clothes. The solution is to put each piece into a bowl of water with lime juice in as soon as you cut it. We managed to do this step without anyone getting stuck. We then added herbs, crushed peanuts, carrot, some boiled chicken, dressing made from fish oil, ginger, chillies and shallots, and tucked in. It was good.
Then it was time to create the pièce de résistance: a dish that is uniquely Cambodian, Amok fish. Amok is a Cambodian curry that is made with coconut milk, lemon grass, turmeric, chillies and the most exquisite herbs that give it a unique and delicious flavour. It's one of the most popular dishes in the country, and it's easy to understand why. At once mild yet spicy, soft and creamy yet firm and crisp. And yes, ours were just like that! Steamed and served up in banana leaf bowls that we also made ourselves, it was a real treat.
And for afters, we made sticky rice with fresh mango and caramel sauce: 'nuff said. The day inspired all of us to cook more Khmer food and also took away some of the fear of getting the wrong ingredients. Because, believe us, you can also get it wrong. Some food items here can be just a little less yummy.
One item, dished up as part of the 'salad' that came with a traditional Khmer meal that Perry shared with his work colleagues recently, is a case in point. At first glance, it looked like sliced cucumber: Perry's first mistake. His second mistake was to be unable to pick up a single slice with his chopsticks and to just go for stuffing a whole wodge into his mouth instead. It wasn't cucumber. Looking on closer examination like a cross between a cucumber, a banana and a hedgehog, it's actually the vegetable equivalent of a dementor: first it sucks all the saliva out of your mouth, then all the moisture out of your body, then gets started on your will to live. And all the while it adds insult to injury by tasting foul too. A true seventh circle of unpleasantness, the longer it's in your mouth, the more it expands, becoming an ever-increasing combination of blotting paper, fibre and bitterness. Interestingly, no-one else appeared to be eating any of it.
A few other unusual items turned up in the same meal. Many of you will know that Sarah has eaten fried crickets brought in to work by her colleagues. They were delicious and tasted like the very best shrimp and Sarah will eat all that you can catch (poor Jiminy: Pinocchio will miss him so). Perry has now matched this by eating steamed bee larvae, dished up looking rather like a honeycomb wrapped in tinfoil. Quite delicate, a bit like soft skate meat with just a hint of honey - but probably not going to catch on as the next big thing in pub grub. We also had some excellent beef from Mondulkiri province, some delicious liver from goodness knows where or what, and some river eel that achieved the Tardis-like feat of containing more and bigger bones than an elephant's graveyard within one finger-thin body. But the coup de grace (literally) was the boiled goat's foot.
How to describe its first appearance? Served up in a tureen, with a cooker-block in the base to keep it boiling. When the lid was removed, in the middle of the seething liquid lay this thing. Cylindrical for most of its length, with one end swelling out to a large mis-shapen lump. Pale yellow-pink on the outside, engorged with the boiling water inside it, and with an extended purple-pink semicircle sticking out of a sheath of the pale outer covering at the opposite end to the lump. And huge, truly huge. One of the crowd reaches out and pokes a knife into it...
Like Moby Dick meets Old Faithful, it erupted high into the air. And came down all over your humble correspondent. Fortunately, the boiling liquid went so high that by the time it impacted it had cooled down quite a bit. There wasn't even a decent, shocked pause before everybody burst into laughter (note to VSO: add this one to your list of good multicultural icebreaker techniques). A large segment was carved off as the victim's reward and put on his plate. The horror, the horror. It looked even worse on the plate than it had in the pot: it became clear that it was almost entirely boiled goat skin with something pink and squidgy inside. To be fair, the pink and squidgy bits could be separated from the skin and were quite tasty. But the skin... a warm rubberised slug that didn't want to be either chewed or swallowed. Bring me back the dementor-vegetable! Yes, I will have another beer, please. No, I don't normally down it in one, just on special occasions. Oh no, now I've started a trend.
Oh, and the fermented fish sauce we were supposed to dip everything in was just what you would expect. Stuffing it full of chillies didn't make it taste any better but at least numbed your mouth a bit. Still, you live and learn when eating the food here. If you live, that is.
One item, dished up as part of the 'salad' that came with a traditional Khmer meal that Perry shared with his work colleagues recently, is a case in point. At first glance, it looked like sliced cucumber: Perry's first mistake. His second mistake was to be unable to pick up a single slice with his chopsticks and to just go for stuffing a whole wodge into his mouth instead. It wasn't cucumber. Looking on closer examination like a cross between a cucumber, a banana and a hedgehog, it's actually the vegetable equivalent of a dementor: first it sucks all the saliva out of your mouth, then all the moisture out of your body, then gets started on your will to live. And all the while it adds insult to injury by tasting foul too. A true seventh circle of unpleasantness, the longer it's in your mouth, the more it expands, becoming an ever-increasing combination of blotting paper, fibre and bitterness. Interestingly, no-one else appeared to be eating any of it.
A few other unusual items turned up in the same meal. Many of you will know that Sarah has eaten fried crickets brought in to work by her colleagues. They were delicious and tasted like the very best shrimp and Sarah will eat all that you can catch (poor Jiminy: Pinocchio will miss him so). Perry has now matched this by eating steamed bee larvae, dished up looking rather like a honeycomb wrapped in tinfoil. Quite delicate, a bit like soft skate meat with just a hint of honey - but probably not going to catch on as the next big thing in pub grub. We also had some excellent beef from Mondulkiri province, some delicious liver from goodness knows where or what, and some river eel that achieved the Tardis-like feat of containing more and bigger bones than an elephant's graveyard within one finger-thin body. But the coup de grace (literally) was the boiled goat's foot.
How to describe its first appearance? Served up in a tureen, with a cooker-block in the base to keep it boiling. When the lid was removed, in the middle of the seething liquid lay this thing. Cylindrical for most of its length, with one end swelling out to a large mis-shapen lump. Pale yellow-pink on the outside, engorged with the boiling water inside it, and with an extended purple-pink semicircle sticking out of a sheath of the pale outer covering at the opposite end to the lump. And huge, truly huge. One of the crowd reaches out and pokes a knife into it...
Like Moby Dick meets Old Faithful, it erupted high into the air. And came down all over your humble correspondent. Fortunately, the boiling liquid went so high that by the time it impacted it had cooled down quite a bit. There wasn't even a decent, shocked pause before everybody burst into laughter (note to VSO: add this one to your list of good multicultural icebreaker techniques). A large segment was carved off as the victim's reward and put on his plate. The horror, the horror. It looked even worse on the plate than it had in the pot: it became clear that it was almost entirely boiled goat skin with something pink and squidgy inside. To be fair, the pink and squidgy bits could be separated from the skin and were quite tasty. But the skin... a warm rubberised slug that didn't want to be either chewed or swallowed. Bring me back the dementor-vegetable! Yes, I will have another beer, please. No, I don't normally down it in one, just on special occasions. Oh no, now I've started a trend.
Oh, and the fermented fish sauce we were supposed to dip everything in was just what you would expect. Stuffing it full of chillies didn't make it taste any better but at least numbed your mouth a bit. Still, you live and learn when eating the food here. If you live, that is.
So, between us, we've now tried quite a few of the local delicacies and, on balance, most of them really are delicious. However, we plan to continue avoiding one or two others - the photo below of our friend and fellow volunteer Helen eating a deep-fried spider shows just how utterly scrumptious she found the experience.
Before we close, we should just point out that the birthday girl, Caroline Creosote, then went on to eat a whole plate of mashed potatos that evening as well (because she likes them, that's why!).
Just one more wafer-thin mint, Caroline?
More soon from the Guide Michelin du Cambodge. In the meantime, please don't forget the need to keep supporting VSO through our Justgiving page at www.justgiving.com/jagoteers.
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