So... I'm back! Who's hungry?

Angkor Wat - Siem Reap, Cambodia

Now that I'm back in New York, the conversation at every shindig usually goes something like this...

"You're back! Tell me about Asia! What did you do?"

"I ate."

"Really? What did you eat?"

"I ate everything."

That answer may sound a little general, but it's the honest truth.  I seriously ate everything that was put before me. I ate everything that was offered to me, and I ate everything that I saw.  In fact, even if I saw something appetizing on another person's plate, I had to help myself to a taste of that as well.  Not the cutest thing to do in a third world country. But, hey! I was on a mission, and the mission was to eat all things edible.  

After I bought my ticket to Bangkok, I told myself that the main objective was to focus on one thing, and one thing only - food. Not just any food, but the food that has always been most dear to me - the food of my family. However, once I arrived, I couldn't help spending part of my six months not only eating through my family tree, but also eating neighboring meals that influenced my family's food as well. 

I've now since returned with some skillz (no, spellchecker, I spelled that right. It has a z, because that is how legit I've become). I am filled with a need to feed my friends and family here the things I've learned from my friends and family there.   

I've also decided to share some of my travel journal entries describing my most memorable food experiences along with recipes that you can replicate from the comfort of your own home. I hope you enjoy!

Here's to not only feeding the belly, but to always feeding the soul.

Cheers!

    

L

 

At The Family Duck Farm - Mongkol Borei, Cambodia

Duck, Duck and No Goose

I really wanted to kill a chicken or duck.  I’m not really sure why, but as an avid meat eater, I felt it was my responsibility to experience the process it took to bring a hunk a meat to my kitchen table. When the opportunity presented itself, I knew this was my chance to come face to face, mano y mano with one of my favorite foods and kill a feathered foul.  I must admit, when I agreed to do it, I only had one fear. I feared that I would get so traumatized by the gore that I would never want to eat fried chicken again.  The thought of losing my love of breaded chicken skin really spooked me. But, if I were to do this, what better place than the family duck farm.

Fish eggs for a salty omelet

The good news is, after the deed was done, I still loved me some poultry.  In fact (this may sound a bit morbid), my love for fouls intensified after the whole affair.  I won’t go into details about how I did it (slashed the throat, making sure to reserve each drop of blood for a savory soup) or how I defeathered the bird (apparently, you have to dip the bird in boiling hot water for easy removal of feathers). But as the bird’s eyeballs rolled up to the heavens for the final time, it looked as if the animal said “Good bye, my worthy opponent. I hope my tasty meat gives you pleasure.” 

Of course, it was then that I HAD to make sure that we honored its death with a proper delicious meal.  Lucky for me, since I’ve already experienced my relatives’ cooking for a solid month now, a proper delicious meal was inevitable.   The menu included, my cousin Mayne’s succulent whole chicken including the organs (as a lover innards, this was a special treat) roasted on a bed of banana blossom leaves (we ate a version of this at a restaurant outside of Phnom Pehn, he stated that it was okay if you’ve never had real chicken), balut eggs (fertilized duck embryo boiled alive and eaten in the shell) with a delicious lime pepper sauce, coca cola garlic glazed whole duck (plus innards),   fish eggs omelet served with a spread of crunchy crudités, and Cambodian Hot Pot.

You know how at every dinner party someone always ask “what would you eat as your last meal?”.   After that day, I felt like I got to experience every item on my “last meal” list.  With every chicken bone I got to gnaw on and every balut egg I slurped, I remember saying to myself “god, I am ready to visit your pearly gates”. Yes, the ingredients on paper were humble and the preparation was rustic, but the spice of soul permeated through each dish and created a flavor profile you can only find in the middle of some mapless village in Cambodia.   As I sat at my uncle’s wobbly hand me down table looking over what I’ve eaten and what I have yet to consume with my grandfather’s rice paddy as a backdrop, I knew if I did have to go to the electric chair for some absurd crime I’ve committed, at least my belly would have died a happy camper.    

All the fixins for a scrump duck embryo

Cola Glazed Sticky Wings

Sticky, spicy and sweet

I know that cola braised poultry is typically done in Chinese cooking, but since I discovered this technique on my family's duck farm in Cambodia, I'm gonna call it a Khmer dish (with my own person spin, of course). :)

Ingredients

 

12 wings

1 can of cola (regular, not diet)

2 tablespoon of grapeseed oil

2 cloves of garlic

2 inch knob of ginger

2 tbls of sambal sauce

2 tbls of soy sauce

2 tbls of oyster sauce

1/4 cup of brown sugar

Directions

 

1.  Heat oil in very hot pan

2.  Once oil is hot, brown wings

3.  Remove wings, drain oil and wipe pan dry

4.  Add cola, sliced garlic, sliced ginger, sambal sauce, soy sauce, oyster sauce and brown sugar

5.  Wait until cola mixture is boiling and has thicken

6.  Add wings, turning frequently. Will burn easily.

7.  Once wings are cooked, in a separate oiled and heated pan, sear wings again to get a nice char. Set aside.

8.  Keep the sauce on heat, until desired thickness

9.  Toss wings with sauce, serve immediately.

    



Steamed Fish with Water Mimosa – Siem Reap, Cambodia

A mound of mimosa

Before I left my grandparents’ house, I asked my 21 year old cousin Srey Map what she liked to do for fun.  She told me that aside from school and cooking and cleaning for everyone at the house, there wasn’t much time for fun.  Of course, that just broke my heart.  Since I come from a home with a mother that proclaims that I have “too much fun and too much adventure! Not good!” I thought it was my duty to take her and my other cousins out for a night on the town in Siem Reap.  I should have told Srey Map not to mention this night on the town idea to her mom.  Because her mother is also MY mother’s little sister.  Despite being fearful of what my mother (who is on the other side of the planet in the US) would say after she was sure to hear about this escapade, I decided to go ahead with the plan.  In my defense, the girl is 21 years old and she has never truly had the opportunity to shake her groove thang properly. 

We started the night at my favorite restaurant, Golden Unicorn.  This place is leaps and bounds better than any restaurant on Pub Street at half the price.  Unfortunately, for most tourists, it’s virtually impossible to find unless you are familiar with the area or know someone who resides there.  Golden Unicorn is located in the center part of town, but you have to go down a random 4 foot wide ally that, of course, is not marked by any street signs.  Not only is the ally narrow, but with its deep red dirt in place of pavement, also looks like the surface of mars.  The alley has several large craters filled with pools of water, vestiges left from yesterday’s torrential thunderstorm.  On multiple occasions, I offered to hop off the motorbike as we enter the alley and walk to the restaurant, but for some reason, my cousin always insist that I remain seated sideways, in the middle of a cousin sandwich, as their little Hyundai scooter putters up, down and around each ditch, splattering and sloshing my rubber Old Navy flip flops as my legs try their hardest to balance themselves by summoning some sort of branch pose I learned in that one yoga class I took that one summer. 



Cheers to fifty cent beers!

Once we arrived at the restaurant, I decided to be Diddy for the night and told the waitress to keep the Angkor beers flowing.  Besides, with the fifty cent price tag for each can, it wasn’t that hard to achieve the big baller status persona.  That being said, I made sure that the flow was at a slow pace.   I knew I would never hear the end of it from my mother if her niece ended up puking in the Tonle Sap River.  Next, we ordered the usual - dried giant fried squid, pickled mustard greens, bbq ribs, and my favorite sour lemon chicken soup.  Then I told my cousins to pick something that I have yet to try.  They all told me to order the fish with water mimosa.  “Let’s do it!”

A half an hour later, in walked this monstrosity of a fish nestled under a mound of water mimosa leaves drenched in a thick sweet and sour sauce.  The fish with water mimosa, or Trey Knong Boeng Kachhet,  was served on a mini gas stovetop, so the sauce remained bubbly and ultra hot.   I wasn’t sure what to make of this dish, or what to expect, but I couldn’t wait to dive in.

I took my fork and flaked out a small portion of the mid section.  I gently laid it on my small appetizer plate, and then with my chopsticks, I grabbed two pieces of mimosa leaves and balanced it ever so gently on my white fish.   Then, I proceeded to spoon the gravy over the entire pyramid of meticulously arranged ingredients.  Eater’s tip:  if you’ve never had a dish before, do yourself a favor and make sure you make the first bite count! It is imperative that you incorporate every intended component on that fork.  Make the first bite (dramatic pause), the.ultimate.bite. Where was I?  Oh, yeah…what did it taste like?  The large fresh water fish (I was later informed by my uncle that it was of the Neptuna Oleraceae Lour variety, to which my aunt responded… whatteevvverrr mannnn, you don’t know) very similar to mud fish - white, firm, and a tad sweet.  The firmness of the fish and unabashed stickiness and sweetness of the sauce paired perfectly with the subtle bitterness of the slightly wilted mimosa leaves.   Coupled with an icy cold Angkor beer, I was feeling good.  After a few hours of laughing, eating and drinking, Srey Map was ready for stage two of family fun night in Siem Reap night--“time to dance!”

Fist pumping Cambodian edition

Half an hour and two tuk tuk rides later, we were at the infamous discotheque (I wish I can remember the name, just ask a local where the largest neon club is in Siem Reap).  I haven’t seen a dancing facility this large since my Crobar days in Manhattan.  It looked like an Atlantic City casino that took the wrong turn somewhere, equipped with a Grecian inspired fountain and lighted entryway steps.  In addition to the opulent décor, and since this IS Asia, the discotheque's top three floors were dedicated to karaoke.  

  In we went, and we were greeted with the most current Top 40 bump, de bump songs.  I’m in full rap mogul mode at this point and asked the waitress to seat us at a table with a view of the dance floor.   

Once we are seated, the waitress brought us more fifty cent Angkor beers and then asked my cousins if they were ready to dance!   Too shy to be the first one on the dance floor, I made everyone follow me to the center and explained what a Soul Train line was.  Then I showed everyone how to do my famous (okay, maybe only famous in my head) hit the nail on the head robot dance.  Eventually, I got everyone wiggling and grooving. It was a great night. 

A few days later, I got a call from my ma.  “I heard what you did.”  Ready to vehemently defend my actions with tears and a speech on the oppression of people, my mom continued, “Srey Map told her mom that she had the time of her life.  Her mom wants to thank you for taking her out and showing her a great time.  It’s not often she really gets to just have fun.”  

Well, I’ll be.   

Roasted Striped Bass in a Pond of Morning Glory

With the head and all. Keeping it real.

 I used a striped bass because it's a nice flaky, white, sweet fish that is absolutely delicious roasted.

Water mimosas aren't available (to my knowledge) in NYC, so I used morning glory instead.  Spinach would work as well!

Ingredients

Serves 2

For the fish

1 striped bass, 2 pounds

1 pound of morning glory

1 inch knob of ginger (finely sliced)

3 cloves of garlic (finely sliced)

1 lime thinly sliced

salt and pepper

grapeseed oil

For the sauce

½ cup of fish sauce

½ cup of sugar

¼ cup of tamarind paste (found in most Asian stores)

3 cloves of garlic (finely minced)

1 inch of ginger (finely minced)

1 tsp of corn starch

2 cloves of garlic (finely sliced)

 

Instructions

1.       Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Thoroughly clean fish.  Stuff fish with slices of lime, garlic and ginger.  Coat fish with grapeseed oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Cover with foil and insert into oven.  Set timer to 30 minutes.

2.       Fill a large pot 1/2 of the way with water.  Add a tablespoon of salt and a tablespoon of oil.  Set stove top to high.

3.       Wash morning glory, and remove any dead leaves and large stems. 

 

4.       Prepare a large bowl with ice water.

 

5.        Blanch morning glory in boiling water until bright green.  This takes around 3 seconds, then transfer greens into bath of ice water.  Drain, set aside.  Turn off stove, reserve seasoned hot morning glory water. 

 

6.       Combine fish sauce, tamarind, sugar in bowl

7.       Add two tablespoons of grapeseed oil in saucepan. Once hot, add sliced ginger.  Saute until fragrant and crisp. Set aside on paper towels. 

8.       Add minced ginger and garlic.  Once fragrant add tamarind fish sauce mixture.  Once the sauce starts to boil add a cup of the reserved morning glory hot water. 

9.       To thicken sauce, in separate bowl add corn starch to a half cup of morning glory water and mix until starch is dissolved. 

10.   Once sauce begins to boil again, add starch slurry.  Stir, turn off heat. 

11.   Remove fish from oven after 30 minutes (or until meat is white and flaky).  Set on platter, pour half of the sauce over fish.  Add morning glory on top of fish, add the rest of sauce.  Add fried garlic.  Serve immediately with white rice. 

Prahok Stands - Battambang, Cambodia

Eating Jerky Snake in front of a Prahok Roadside Stand

I can’t really describe the love I have for Prahok.  It’s stinky, fishy, and some say downright offensive.  Prahok is crushed, salted and fermented fish that is served multiple ways in Khmer cuisine.  It’s added in soups, used as a dip, and made into dressing.  Basically, if you’ve ever eaten Khmer food, most likely, prahok sneaked its way into your dish.

It should also be noted that in order to really appreciate the beauty of prahok, you must be introduced to it at a very young age. Your tongue needs time to cultivate a palate that will be able to recognize the deliciousness in the hunk of funk.  That being said, I’ve ran into a few Cambodians claiming that even though it was a staple at every family meal, they still can’t stand the stuff and will make a show of turning up their noses at the smell.  But, behind closed doors, (I know this is true because I’ve witnessed it plenty of times) if there is a bowl of prahok on the table, Cambodians cannot help but to subtly dunk their slice of cucumber in the creamy fishy dip.  Why? Because it’s GOOD, damnit. 

Immediately as the rubber bottoms of my Teva soles touched Cambodian soil, I knew immediately what I wanted to experience first.  It wasn’t the Royal Palace, Angkor Wat or the National Museum.  I wanted to try the best prahok Cambodia had to offer.   Unfortunately, I had to wait until the rest of my family arrived because with my limited Khmer and obvious foreigner demeanor (“How can you tell I am not from here??” to which my cousin replied, “You just CAN.”) I was afraid people would send me to restaurants designed for tourists which only had the Disney version of what real prahok was supposed to be.

Finally, my food lover counterpart, family chef arrived - my Aunt (or has Khmer folks say my “Oum”) Oum Ruomie.  I knew that everything that I ate in this country prior to her arrival had been just the shadow of what the culinary world of Cambodia has to offer.  Not only is she our family’s best cook, but just like me, the woman knows how to EAT.  Also just like me, when it comes to Khmer food, she goes by the motto, “the stinkier, the better”! Bring.It.

“Hey, Baby! What do you want to eat?” Was the first question she asked when I met her at our hotel in Phnom Pehn.

“Prahok!”

“Well, let’s find you some!”

The next day we packed up our stuff, loaded our bags into a rental van and made our way back to my family’s hometown of Mongkul Borei. Comfortably napping on the backseat, I was suddenly tossed to the ground as the van made a sharp turn onto a dirt road.  When I got up from the floor, I peaked outside the window, and it was at that moment I saw the gold mine, treasures a plenty.  It was a roadside stand that exclusively sold dried salty fish, and hundreds of jars of prahok at various prices depending on grade.  I gasped with complete awe.  As I approached the jars of various shades of fish, I was astonished by the variety available.  I stood behind my aunt and uncle as they bantered about price with the prahok monger.  Suddenly, my ears perked up as soon as I overheard “Do you want to smell?”  

With that cue, I rushed over to get a whiff of the caviar of Cambodia.  I bent over and inhaled deeply.  Immediately, my eyes widened and salivary glands started to tingle, awakened by the salty pungent smells of fermented fish.  I instantly recognized what I was smelling was grade A, artisanal prahok.  It smelled like the Spanish sardines, aged to perfection, one would find in the finest specialty shops in Noho. 

“Mmmmm…”  I said wistfully. 

“Ahhh, she must be Cambodian.” she responded with a smile.

Daikon Salad with Anchovy Lime Dressing

I know that I love prahok, but I am not going to pretend that everyone else will automatically be obsessed with it as well.  As an alternative, I decided to substitute prahok with anchovy filets that you can buy at your local supermarket.  I figured that anchovies are a good baby step towards the direction of stinky bliss. 

I used these veggies, but any crunchy veggies will work

training wheels

 Ingredients

 Serves 4

 

 For the salad

½ pound string beans

1 grapefruit (segmented)

1 medium daikon (grated)

1 chayote (thinly sliced)

½ pint grape tomatoes (halved)

½ red bell pepper (julienned) 

Peanuts to garnish

 For the dressing

      Juice from 1 ½ lime

      2 anchovy filets plus 1 teaspoon of oil from can
      2 birds eye chili

      3 garlic cloves

      2 tlbs of fish sauce

      1 tlbs of palm sugar

 Directions

1.  Combine dressing ingredients using a mortar and pestle or blender. 

2.  Toss into prepped veggies. Serve with crushed peanuts and a wedge of lime. 

   

     

     

   

Bun Bo Xao - Hanoi, Vietnam

When I first arrived in Hanoi, I must admit, I was definitely overwhelmed.  Prior to Hanoi (excluding Bangkok, of course), I spent my days leisurely biking in the serene countryside of Thailand and Laos.  As my taxi driver weaved in and out through the streets, I knew immediately, my days of strolling down picturesque paths while listening to reflective indie slow jams on my ipod were long gone.  I started to have minor heart palpitations, while my palms began to sweat with anticipation.  The view from my cab window didn't help matters either.  All I saw were hoards of motorbikes, cars and bicycles, zipping across barely defined lanes and loaded with numerous passengers exceeding each vehicle's occupancy limit.

I shouldn’t have been too surprised. This city is notorious for its dense traffic. It was just a shock to my system to come from peaceful and passive Luang Prabang to the hustle and bustle of Hanoi. There was no middle ground that allowed me to adjust from one extreme to another.   However, despite the fact that my stomach was tied into knots, I was still excited.  Excited to experience the OTHER thing Hanoi is known for, the FOOD!

Once I finally got to my hotel, I checked into my room, took a second to brace myself, armed with a map, I charged downstairs and went straight to the concierge. 

“I’m absolutely famished." Yes, I used the word famished, because when I'm that starved I use words like famished.  "Can you please recommend an amazing place for dinner?”

“Of course, what kind of food are you looking for?”

All I can do at this point was to answer honestly.

“Vietnamese?”

With a laugh, she told me to go next door and order the Bun Bao Xao. 

Relieved that I wouldn’t have to attack Hanoi traffic during my first night of arrival, I started out the door then perched on a plastic candy colored stool that was in front of the restaurant.

The waitress said something incoherent in Vietnamese, to which I responded “Bun Bao Xao?”

She nodded knowingly.  Seconds later a bowl of noodles sprinkled with beautiful cool crispy herbs, such as mint and basil, with slices of fried steak arrived.  The noodle salad was perfectly  dressed with my favorite thing in the world - num mac sauce! I threw in a couple of diced chili peppers into the mix, then sloshed the contents of my bowl with plastic chopsticks. The fresh full flavors immediately rushed through my body like an icy cold waterfall and immediately calmed my nerves down.  The noise that surrounded me instantaneously muted as I tasted each note of the dish's symphony. With a sigh of relief, I knew I would be okay after finally tasting the comforting flavors of Vietnam. 

Bun Bo Xao

My version of Bun Bo Xao

Since the star of the dish are the crisp veggies, why not make each piece pleasing to the eye?  I used a papaya shredder that can be found at any Asian Market to peel my cucumber and created fancy pants slices.

If the crisp vegs are the star, the nuoc mam sauce is definitely the supporting role.  I added a few variations to my recipe, it may spook the traditionalist, but give it a go if you're not scared of a few little twists.

Ingredients

serves 4

For the salad

2 filets of sirloin

1 medium carrot

1 red bell pepper

1 medium cucumber

1/2 head of romain lettuce

1 package of rice vermicelli noodles

1 small bunch of mint leaves

1 small bunch of cilantro

1 cup of crushed peanuts

For the nuoc mam sauce

will keep in the fridge for up to a month

3 chili peppers

3 cloves of garlic

1 ½ tablespoons of minced ginger

½ cup fish sauce

1 cup of your favorite coconut water

1 tablespoon of honey

Directions

1.  To make the sauce, use a mortar and pestle and crush chili peppers, ginger and garlic until all ingredients are well combined. 

2.  Spoon chili paste into a wide mouth jar and add fish sauce, coconut water, honey.  Close jar with lid and shake vigorously, set aside.

3.  Fill large pot with water and put on high heat. 

4.  Wash the vegetables used in the salad.  Julienne red pepper into fine matchstick slices, peel cucumber with papaya shredder if available, cut into thin slices.  Using a grater, grate carrot stick. Wash romaine leaves, mint and coriander.  Cut into thin slices. 

5.  Crush peanuts into crumbs using a mortar and pestle

6.  Heat pan, add oil. Once oil is searing hot, place steaks (make sure the steak is dry in order to create a nice sear).  Cook steaks based on desired doness.  Remove from heat and place on plate with, cover with an aluminum tent.  Set aside and allow steak to rest.

7.  Once the pot is boiling add noodles.  Allow noodles to cook for 6-8 minutes.  After the noodles are cooked, strain and quickly rinse with cold water. 

8.  Add noodles to large bowl, arrange vegetables and peanuts on top along with steak.

9.  Either serve with nuoc mam on side or tossed in noodles.