Colors of Phnom Penh: Green and White.

I have a complicated personal history with Phnom Penh. I have been taken sick on both of my visits to the Cambodian capital, so that some of my strongest memories of the city are of lying in bed in pain. And my first night there was spent feeling exhaustedly overwhelmed: by the traffic of motorbikes, the maimed beggars, and the clash of new development with destitute poverty. But in the end, it’s still one of the cities in Asia I think most longingly of. For somehow, despite its suffering history, its lingering ills, it’s a city where hope seems almost to be sprouting from the cracks in the pavement.

So maybe it’s fitting that the colours I associate with Phnom Penh are of green and white; of new growth an optimistic brightness. These colours flourished in the seasonal monsoons, succored in the cool shade of the city’s leafy sidewalk cafes, and gleamed in the verdant hues of its markets’ produce.

Cafes of Phnom Penh.

One of the worst things about only having a few days in Phnom Penh was that there was not nearly enough time to get to all of the cafes and coffeeshops that we wanted to. When Bordeaux and I first visited Phnom Penh, we had been traveling for the two months previous, and we were thrilled to be able to recharge in so many different wonderful cafes. But more than just relief from homesickness, Phnom Penh's elegant cafes offer delicious baked goods, well executed meals, and, most importantly, excellent coffee. On this visit, we nostalgically visited a few we'd made it to last time. We had breakfast at Java, a second floor art gallery/cafe that makes strong Vietnamese drip coffee and serves an excellent bowl of muesli, yogurt, and locally sourced honey. We made it back to The Shop, a bakery and deli where I tried the decadent crepe with mango, banana, and passion fruit. We also made time to try a new place, Chocolate, where we paired a dark chocolate brownie with equally dark coffee.

Rained in at the Royal Palace.

While visiting Phnom Penh's Royal Palace, we found ourselves captive, held at the mercy of a monsoon downpour. But sheltered in the portico of the Silver Pagoda, we were granted time to admire some of the more unusual elements of the temple grounds. For though Phnom Penh's palace may not have the flash and glamor of Bangkok's, it's still a visually captivating place, with teal painted guardians, faded Hanuman lampposts, and a mash-up of architectural styles.

Cambodia Cooking Class.

After fifteen minutes of waiting outside locked doors, we started to worry we were in the wrong place. The sign advertising The Cambodia Cooking Class suggested that we were in the right place, but there was no on there to greet us and no where to sit and wait. Finally the doors opened, and we were greeted by a man rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “I just woke up,” he explained. We moved inside to continue waiting in the darkened shop interior. The man who greeted us disappeared out the front door, while another man, our cooking teacher, came downstairs yawning. He began sweeping out the shop and cleaning up empty beer bottles, giving us no sign of what was going on.

When Bordeaux and I first came to Southeast Asia a year ago, we set as a goal to take a cooking class in every country we visited. We easily accomplished that in Thailand and Laos, and eventually we managed to take a class in Hanoi. The classes had all been wonderful. We got to prepare some good dishes, learned a little about Asian cooking, and got to learn a little about different culinary cultures. But as this class got off to its rough start, I was wondering if I was going to have to right my first bad review.

Close to fifteen minutes later, the other guy returned with a tuk tuk. We piled in, and headed for the market. Most cooking classes begin with a tour of a local wet market as a way to introduce some local foods, ingredients, and cooking methods. At the Thai Farm Cooking School, we were shown different qualities of rice, given a demonstration on making coconut milk and coconut cream, and lectured on the differences between different kinds of curry powder. In Luang Phrabang, we were shown a variety of fresh herbs and spices. In this cooking class, we walked through the market in a hurried single file.

Thankfully, the tone of the class shifted rapidly once we got to the cooking school. This was no doubt helped by the setting of the kitchen, which was as relaxed as the market was hectic: a quiet top-floor patio, where we looked out over a busy baguette bakery and the lush garden of the Royal Palace. As we settled into the open-air surroundings, out teacher apologized for giving such a rushed tour of the market, and explained that the setting there is so crowded and busy that he wasn’t able to give any explanation. Instead, he took a selection of fresh herbs and vegetables out of the refrigerator, and talked us through them.

Over the course of the day, we each made (clockwise, from upper left corner): fish amok, a delicious custard-like curry that's steamed in a banana leaf cup; saing jayk, peppery pork and chicken 'sausages' that are fried in a banana flower roll; a citrusy prawn and pomelo salad made two ways- one with the prawns cooked, the other cured in a lime dressing; and for dessert, a creamy durian custard steamed in a pumpkin. We ate these dishes as we prepared them throughout the day, which gave the class a nicely languid atmosphere that fit with Phnom Penh's tropical heat. In between, we were given tastes of banana flower soup, and bites of fresh durian.

In the end, the class really was wonderful- enough so to make the rocky start totally irrelevant. Every class we’ve taken has had its strengths- whether it was the atmosphere of the class, the setting of the kitchen, or the glimpse into local culture afforded by the lesson. In this class, our guide was a trained chef, and there was a strong focus on food presentation. He gave us great tips on how to make our food look its best, and as a result, these were some of the most professional looking dishes I’ve ever made in a cooking class. He was an outstanding teacher, who helped us to make the cooking as effortless as he made it look. And most importantly of all, I left the class with the strong desire (and ability) to make some delicious Khmer dishes at home.

Spirithouse glam.

The spirithouses in Cambodia had a distinct style all their own. I particularly favoured these rather glamorous models, painted entirely gold.

Still life at a Phnom Penh market.

Birthday in Phnom Penh.

While the week before my birthday was spent among the jungled ruins near Siem Reip, the actual day of my 24th was spent in Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital. It was a chance to enjoy some urban pleasures, in one of the strangest capitals in the world.
Phnom Penh was a fascinating city, both more pleasant and more jarring than I had expected. After weeks in Southern Laos and rural Cambodia, it was a strange confrontation to be in such an urban space. There were hip cafes and trendy bakeries, serving tasty coffee and elegant pastries. There were leafy avenues, packed with traffic. And there were disturbing signs of poverty and misfortune: amputees sitting on sidewalk corners, mother beggers with sick children in tow.
For my birthday, Bordeaux woke me with breakfast in bed, and some gifts he had cleverly gathered. In search of coffee, we walked along the riverbank, peeking in at the disappointing cafe at the dismal Cambodiana Hotel. We found good lattes at Cafe Fresco, and spent most of the afternoon relaxing. For dinner, Bordeaux took me to the Foreign Correspondent's Club. While the Phnom Penh branch of the FCC isn't quite as sexy as the modern white branch in Siem Riep, the restaurant had a nicely casual atmosphere and a beautiful river view. We first visited the top floor, where we ordered cocktails. We then moved downstairs, into the pale-yellow walled dining room, where Bordeaux had reserved a table looking out over the river. I ordered a spicy crab curry, which was incredible. We even ordered wine (a rare luxury for us in Southeast Asia). For dessert, we had an unusual sticky rice dessert, served with melty vanilla ice cream. We also ordered more alcohol- two shots of a warming port that were the perfect end to a great day. The fact that my birthday was so pleasant is all credit of Bordeaux- who not only knows me so well, but was somehow able to plan an incredible day in a foreign city we'd never been to before.