My Evening With Somaly Mam

Wow.  What an amazing night. 

When I offered to host a Dinner by Lany supperclub event for Somaly Mam and her foundation, I had no idea that it was going to be such an extraordinary, surprisingly informal, lovely, unforgettable, HANDS ON, and empowering event.  Before meeting the highly celebrated Cambodian activist, I was a bit nervous. For one, her inspirational story and strength of mythological proportions was something that I've always greatly admired. Secondly, I knew that her home was in Phnom Penh and that she probably had her own repertoire of favorite Cambodian dishes.  

Luckily, all of my "first date" jitters instantaneously melted away as soon as Somaly walked through the door.  Immediately after she took off her coat, she made a beeline straight to the kitchen. 

"Hi, Lany! How can I help?"

Taken aback by the glamour that is Somaly Mam, I had to reassess the situation. Her eagerness to help was definitely not expected. 

"No, no, it's okay! Have a seat and I'll bring out the first course..." I managed to stammer. 

"Eh? First course? What about Prahok. I know you have some in the fridge." 

It was then that all my nervousness began to vanish. Yes, Somaly has been awarded with several prestigious accolades for her work to end sex slavery across the globe and was considered to be one of the most influential people by TIME magazine. But, at this particular moment, I was comforted by the one thing that we had in common.  We both shared a love for prahok, food of Cambodia, food of our family, food from home.  

"I am happiest in the kitchen."

"No apron needed, I fry fish all the time at the center!"

The wonderful  Somaly Mam Foundation staff.

The Somaly Mam Foundation

With Somaly, Lilia (IPhone photographer extraordinaire), 
and Somaly's assistant, Sylor

Ending to a perfect evening.

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. 

   

     

     

   

Mongkol Borei Crab Boil – Mongkol Borei, Cambodia

Here, fishy, fishy!

I experienced a lot of pinch worthy moments while traveling, and the first day in my parents' hometown of Mongkol Borei is definitely in the top three.  What I thought would be a simple fishing day at a nearby pond, Andy Griffin style, complete with happy-go-lucky whistling,  turned out to be a roller coaster ride on a motorbike down yet another ditch ridden dirt road in Cambodia. 

After my visit to the neighborhood market, my cousin asked me if I wanted to go fishing.  Never to turn down an offer to go on any excursion, I enthusiastically said yes. A half an hour later she swung by the house accompanied by two friends  perched on her very small motorbike.  She ordered her friends to make room and provided me with a centimeter of seat space. I let out a "only in Cambodia" sigh, hopped on and off we went!

A calm start to our bumpy journey

I wasn't sure where exactly, but I  quickly learned that when you're in Cambodia, all you can do is cross your fingers and hope for the best.  It was rainy season, so ten minutes into our journey, we were greeted with sheets of rain that quickly collected into a massive pool of water that engulfed a drowning motorbike with a napolean complex.  

"I guess we should turn around?" 

"No, my bike is stronger than his." 

The two bikes looked identical to me.

"Um, maybe there is an alternate..."  

Before I was able to finish my sentence, she revved up her engine and stepped on the gas.  Unprepared for this sudden jolt, I grabbed onto friend #2 to keep from toppling over.  With a squeal and a little prayer, not only did we manage to cruise to the other side, but also received our second bath of the day. 

Eventually I overcame the fact that we were a party of four on a tiny two wheeled vehicle miraculously coasting over random gullies and started to appreciate the beautiful scenery zipping by - vast lands of green lush rice paddies with oceanless palm trees sprouting in random areas of the field. 

The only thing I caught that day

When we finally reached   our destination, I was beyond excited to see multiple small straw bungalows suspended over water, held up by long stalks of dried bamboo. It was a Robin Crusoe adventure wonderland realized.  The “fishing park” was a buzz with locals napping in fabric hammocks, stereos blaring old love songs, people gossiping about the latest neighborhood news and of course, people fishing.  On top of that, there was plenty of food.  Vendors were selling kettle corn, beef jerky skewers, and my favorite, river snails and baby crabs steamed with beer.  This may sound a bit odd, but I don’t think it’s the taste that gets me excited about crab and snail.  I think it’s the obstacle of prying out the meat with any instrument that would suffice.  With the snails, you have to use a wooden toothpick and with a savvy flick of the wrist, pluck the mollusk out of its shell.  With crab, you simply crack it in half using brute strength and suck each crevice of the body and leg until you get something edible.  It may be too troublesome for most to endure such a tedious process only to be rewarded with minuscule pieces of meat, but I loved it. Maybe because it gave me a reason to get my hands dirty and play with food.

Better than peanuts

Beer Steamed Tamarind Chili Dungeness Crab

 

No snails or baby crabs here, but dungeness crab will do just fine.  

Say hello to my orange friend. Approximately 1 two pound crab per person. 

Ingredients

     1 two pound Dungeness crab

     1 bottle of red ale beer

     3 scallions, finely chopped

     3 red chili peppers, finely chopped

     3 tablespoons of peanut oil

     1 large handful of roughly chopped cilantro leaves

     4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

     ½ inch knob of ginger, finely chopped

 For the Sauce

     2 tablespoons of tamarind

     1 tablespoon sweet chili sauce

     1 ½ tablespoon of fish sauce

    

Directions

1.  Pour beer in pot and place steamer basket with crab on top.

2.  Steam crab for approximately 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.

3.  Once cooled, pull a part crab and clean. Remove legs, crack shell to loosen meat.  Cut body of crab into smaller pieces.

4.  Add oil to wok.  Once hot, add ginger and garlic. Stir fry until fragrant. Add crab pieces and allow it to cook for approximately 5 minutes.

5.  Add chopped chili and the white part of the scallions to wok. Toss sauce in with crab.

6.  Top with green part of scallions and cilantro. Serve immediately.