Slow Noodles: A Cambodian Memoir of Love, Loss, and Family Recipes

by Chantha Nguon

Cambodia has a rich past, a mosaic of flavors from near and far: South Indian traders gave us Buddhism, an alphabet, and spicy curries; China brought rice noodles and astrology; and French colonizers passed on a love of strong coffee, pâté, flan, and a light, crusty baguette.

When you are hungry, the past and future darken, until only the present is visible. Many nights I, too, dreamed only of rice. Hunger focuses the mind but shrinks one’s hopes.

Once you have learned how to lose everything, there’s nothing left to fear. A poor woman’s heart grows stouter as her options narrow. She has no choice but to make bold moves, take wild chances, tempt fate.

There’s a saying in Cambodia: “Men are gold; women are cloth.” It implies that men are a treasure, and women can be thrown away. But more than that, it means that when a man falls into the dirt, he can be polished clean, whereas a woman will be soiled forever.

from her, I learned that the best dishes require extra time and patience to prepare. Later, I discovered that the path from hunger and poverty to economic self-reliance is long and hard, if it is even possible. And I see now that rebuilding a traumatized society after genocide takes many generations of investment—there are no quick fixes. That’s what Slow Noodles means to me.

For me, rice simmered over a charcoal fire tastes better than rice from a rice cooker, and the smell of a charcoal fire is the smell of home and family. My favorite kitchen memories are steeped in that aroma.

I do have this kind of memories, eventho in my grandma's kitchen

The memory of hunger is a curse that never leaves you.

When we are rich, rice is part of a complicated menu of daily dishes. When we are poor, rice is sometimes the entire menu, with a little salt, chili, or MSG for flavor.

Rice is what you eat when you have nothing and when you have everything. In one Khmer proverb, it is the “blood and sweat” of the farmer; another rice saying delivers a lesson about pride: “The immature rice stalk stands upright. The mature stalk, heavy with grains, bends over.” In other words, a willingness to bend with changing winds is a valuable trait, especially when the winds become fierce and destructive.

In Cambodian tradition, the eldest girl inherits only hard work but the first son is the family’s gold.

my sister scraped in long lines down my back, neck, shoulders, and arms with brass coins until linear bruises appeared.

Kerokan?

Noh had gotten a promotion and could now afford to rent something better, so he rented an apartment of his own.

Kenapa sodara sodaranya nggak diajakin sih!

But what we fled from was far worse than what we fled to.

Home is an unstable phantom. It can dissolve at the slightest unfamiliar flavor.

She may have been considered “cloth” in the social order of my childhood. But in the chaos of war, revolution, and regime change, she became a virtuoso survivor.

We have a saying in Khmer: “If a father dies, the children eat rice with fish. If a mother dies, the children sleep on a leaf.” It means that when you lose your mother, you lose everything. She is the roof over your head and the rice in your bowl. She is your strength.

I’m convinced that num banhchok cannot be consumed properly while sitting or standing; to get the experience just right, you must squat to eat it. It wouldn’t taste right any other way.

Why?

When the world whittles down your choices, even a mediocre comfort food can become a sumptuous indulgence.

The moral of the morning glory is this: For plants or humans, making yourself indispensable is the key to survival.

It was disheartening to see people squander the chance to build something lasting. Selfishness was an infection that resisted treatment.

Status didn’t matter; what did matter was work and independence, and giving their children a chance to live well.

My mother taught me that when you feel powerless, you can always find at least one thing to do, however small it may be.

Those recipes are my inheritance, and they remind me that even when you lose everything, you can fight hard and win it back again—if you are patient and stubborn enough.