Words & Photography

On a recent trip to Siem Reap, I especially looked forward to trying the local Khmer food. After all, I thought, it was neighbors with Thailand and Vietnam - countries that are world-renowned for their cuisine’s exceptional and unique flavors. Understandably, my expectations were high. But as I went from one dish to another, it dawned on me that it was nothing like what I expected.

Being Filipino who is accustomed to rich and complex flavors, having grown up to a veritable melting pot of foreign influences integrated in our local dishes, I found the Khmer food... subtle. Every time I take a spoonful, I deliberately have to pause for a long time looking for the zest, the tang, the savory essence and I find myself wanting. I was bewildered but I vowed to satisfy my curiosity.

The answers came to me in the form of my local guide. He was born at the height of the Khmer Rouge regime. Now in his 30s, he is just starting college like most adults of his generation. I once offered him a pack of plain bread that he promptly returned saying: “It’s salty.” I took a bite of the very same bread and it was a perfect in its blandness!

Then it hit me.

For several generations, war-strife Cambodians lived on meagre resources. Those who managed to eat made do with what little they can forage from their backyard, if they were lucky to have a backyard still. I asked my local guide what sort of food consist their diet and he shared they are very simple- freshwater fish, vegetables and rice or noodles and very little, or no seasoning at all.

So that must be it. Their cuisine has taken a different palate after the country fell into the dark turmoil of the Pol Pot’s regime. Yet more than anything, it was a palate of survival and in bigger sense, of indomitable grace.

Food is the window to a nation’s culture and history. I thank my Khmer guide for the insight and the perspectives. Now when I remember my trip to Siem reap, I say its cuisine is...delicate.