A Culinary Tour of Cambodia
Kampuchea Brings New Tastes to the Table
by John Mariani

I don't know if New York is in for a slew of new noodle parlors–it's not as if the city hasn't long had plenty of them, in and out of Chinatown and Queens–but the overhyped success of David Chang's enterprise in that genre (Momofuku Noodle Bar) has certainly made chefs and restaurateurs think about opening their own. Kampuchea on the bustling Lower East Side has been around since 2007, and its popularity is based on all the right moves: The place is casual but snappy, the open kitchen allows you to see what's going on, the prices are right, and the service staff couldn't be nicer. It has also, wisely, dropped "noodle bar" from its name; indeed, while the noodle dishes are terrific, they are equally matched by the great sandwiches and other dishes.

The name is the Khmer word for Cambodia, and chef Ratha Chau, whose parents emigrated to the U.S., is doing a great job of approximating the street food of that country, not just with noodle dishes but with a panoply of unusual dishes you won't easily find anywhere else in NYC. I have no experience with Cambodian fare–the only other NYC entry was South East Asian Cuisine, which closed–but I assume Chau, who is self taught, is paying his most sincere homage to the food of his home country.

The small restaurant has expansive windows on two sides, some communal tables, and seems to get as many families with kids in tow as it does LES denizens. Kids seem to take to this food readily: much is fried, most can be eaten with your fingers. And if you want to complain to anyone, Chau is standing just feet away in the kitchen.

It's an overly ambitious menu for such a small kitchen–with many small plates, sandwiches, crepes, soups, noodle dishes and stews. But most of what I had was pulled off with panache, beginning with chilled rice vermicelli with grilled Berkshire pork, Chinese sausage, an egg over easy, shallots, and crushed peanuts. The cold noodles worked nicely with the warm pork and texture of the peanuts. I'm not a huge fan of monkfish liver, but the seared version at Kampuchea with a beef jus, macerated spiced pears, pickled daikons, and bush basil had enough extra flavors to work with the too-often-pungent liver.

Tamarind baby back ribs with cilantro and a lime dip was addictive, and at only $13 everybody at the table should get their own rather than fight over one plate. I do love sweetbreads, and Chau does well by them, giving them a quick searing then bobbing them in a shiitake broth with an enoki-basil salad. Mussels, not too big, not too small, are not for the faint of palate–the spicy-sour broth packs a wallop, tamed by okra and tomatillos and sopped up with a crusty baguette.

Now, about those sandwiches: They are sensationally delicious, proving that something considered as lowly as a sandwich can rise to gastronomic heights if you just take care and use great ingredients, much the same as with a well-made pastrami on rye at Katz's Deli nearby. Have the num pang, a tasting of three of them, perhaps the coconut tiger shrimp with toasted coconut; the sweet pulled oxtail with tamarind-basil sauce; or the Hoisin sauce meatballs with tomato sauce. They are the kind of dishes that make you wish you lived right around the corner from Kampuchea.
  
We also noshed our way through a catfish crepe with ground peppercorn, honey-soy, and sesame seed; a grilled whole mackerel with chili sauce; and crispy pork belly with honey, scallions, and apple cider. And, oh yeah! The noodles: A hot, rich chicken broth with flat rice sticks, ground pork, duck confit, chicken breast, tiger shrimp, and herbs–a kind of kitchen sink dish that succeeds as much on complex flavors as on sheer bravado.

All of us really enjoyed the food at Kampuchea–as well as the signature cocktails like the mango caipirinha–but I think what I enjoyed most was in seeing the commitment and self-taught talent of Ratha Chau and his kitchen staff. They bring something new to New Yorkers who profess to have seen and tasted it all.

John Mariani is well known for his frank and poignant writing in Esquire, Wine Spectator, Diversion and the Harper Collection. He is author of The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink, The Dictionary of Italian Food and Drink and co-author, with his wife, of the Italian-American Cookbook.