Nom Banh Chok Somlaw Khmer (Nom Banh Chok for short) is the quintessential noodle soup of Cambodia. Guaranteed to be the most unique Southeast Asian noodle dish that you’ve ever tasted. It has been enjoyed with pride for centuries and is the only dish in Cambodian cuisine bearing the name that we call ourselves: Khmer. Nothing brings us together more than this simple dish.
The broth is what makes this noodle soup so unique, so Khmer. Simple and yet powerful with a perfect mix of umami from Prahok, fragrance from lemongrass and finger root, thickness from twice cooked fresh-water fish smashed into paste and a creamy smooth finish from coconut milk. Variations in the broth depend on the amount of lemongrass leaf and turmeric used. With extra lemongrass leaf the broth turns mostly green in color with a strong lemongrass flavor. At Angkor Chef our broth is prepared with more turmeric bringing out a beautiful yellowish-green color along with the abundant health benefits from turmeric.
The vegetables in Nom Banh Chok are served fresh and raw. They usually include thinly sliced banana blossom, shredded green papaya, bean sprouts, long beans and julienned cucumbers. These vegetables are available in Cambodia year-round, however any of your favorite fresh vegetables will work just fine. The garnish that inspires me to cook this dish at Angkor Chef is wild bean flowers (Latin name: Sesbania Javanica or Pkah Snaow in Khmer). These flowers take me back to the time we were starving together during the communist Khmer Rouge. For weeks we had nothing to eat, but we were blessed with wild Pkha Snaow to keep us alive.
For some reason the dish is most popular with ladies. Perhaps because it does not contain chunks of meat. Or perhaps because it is too healthy :). You can almost guarantee the expressions and words that follow the first byte “Um so good” not just the taste, but to the soul. Then after the second byte it would be “So healthy!” as if we can actually lose weight if we eat more :). It is possible that the women learn to appreciate the effort that goes into making it, and the memories of how our mothers used to love it. I must confess, I myself did not care much about the soup until our mother was no longer with us. I noticed that at Angkor Chef many of our Cambodian lady guests would tell me “My mother used to make this”, then there is a split second of silence as we both try to not show emotion. Perhaps we should rename the dish to Mother-Daughter noodles.
