Cambodian Curry Soup

There are as many curries in the world as there are individual cooks. If I were the curator of a curry museum, I would place Makara Meng's Cambodian curry soup in the heart of the gallery. Click at right for the recipe and her incredible story.

Photo: Tim Greenway

The Story

Makara’s Cambodian Curry

By Lindsay Sterling

Before you make Makara Meng’s Cambodian curry soup, I think you should know how it got here. The story starts when she was four years old and communist Khmer Rouge soldiers invaded her rural village. They divided her family by age and sex and placed them in separate labor camps, never to see each other again. In her camp, soldiers forced Makara and the other kids to wake at 5:00 a.m. to weed the rice fields. At noon, they were given their meal of the day: between 5 and 20 grains of rice in a bowl of water, depending on how well they behaved. Makara broke all sorts of rules, hiding foraged guavas in the waist of her pants and attempting to escape to see her mother. For this, once a soldier tied Makara to a rope and spent the evening kicking her like she was a football and pulling her back. Years into this horror, a bomb blast created sudden chaos in camp. Makara remembers even the soldiers scramming, and her seven-year-old-self just standing there, waiting for someone to rescue her.

“Makara? Is that you?” Came a voice. Makara was a bunch of child’s bones, barely held together by skin, unrecognizable to her own mother. The two escaped through the jungle and lived in refugee camps in different countries for six years. One day someone at the camp told them they were being sent to Boston to resettle. Their plane landed in January 1984. Makara and her mother were wearing flip-flops and rags. A guy named Bill helped them find proper clothes for the Boston winter and taught Makara about a little thing called a toothbrush. Because copper was a prized metal to them, when Makara’s mother first held a penny, she thought she had become instantly rich. Life in America wouldn’t be that easy. Makara learned how to go to school and speak English, how to run a sewing business, get married, have kids, get divorced. She learned how to move past the news that her kids were autistic, and that buying a vegetable farm in Florida had been a bad idea. She moved to Portland, Maine, to be with a friend, got remarried, had two more kids, and bought a store, Mittapheap world market, at 61 Washington Ave.


It was there that Makara told me this story, in -- as a very strange God would have it - the rice isle. Because it’s what I do, I asked her if she would teach me a dish from her homeland. This Cambodian curry is a dish she and her mother made in her childhood before all that hell broke loose. Today the two of them make it, still together, in South Portland for family birthday parties. It’s bone-in chicken pieces, eggplant, yam, green beans and onion wedges all covered and wading in a thick red sauce. The key ingredient is homemade curry paste that Makara makes with fresh ingredients from her store: dried mild red chili peppers, fresh birds-eye chili peppers, galangal, lemongrass, shallots, garlic, salt, sugar, and fresh kaffir lime leaves. You cook this red curry paste with coconut milk, add the chicken, and then, once the chicken is cooked, add the vegetables. You serve it with baguette or super-thin noodles to help soak up the sauce, and a mountain of fresh, raw garnishes on top: bean sprouts, cucumbers, mint leaves, strips of green papaya and purple banana flower.

Funny, the name of this dish in Cambodian sounds like the English words, “Some law,” something I might say in an attempt to express how unbelievable the shit is in the world, and how unbelievable the good.

For detailed cooking instructions, see the links at right.

Mittapheap market is open 7 days a week, 9-7. 207-773-5523.

copyright Lindsay Sterling 2011

The Recipe

Cambodian Curry Soup

Some LAW

As Makara Meng, her mother, An I, and two friends, Saran Svay and Mom Hoeung, all from Cambodia, taught Lindsay Sterling in South Portland, Maine, July 2011

Serves 10
Cooking time: about 2 hours

Step 1: Make Curry Paste

10 4-6 inch long dried chili peppers (mildly spicey if at all; these are for the red color mostly)
10 shallots, peeled
2 heads garlic
5-10 fresh red birds-eye chili peppers or 2-3 habaneros

1 6-inch piece of galangal root

4 long stems fresh lemongrass

1 tsp coriander seeds

1 Tbsp cumin seeds

3 green cardomon pods or 1 tsp cardamon powder

20 fresh kaffir lime leaves

2 Tbsp salt

1/4 cup sugar

The night before or hours ahead, soak dried chili peppers in water to soften. Take off stems and put the soft flesh in food processor. Trim stems of fresh chilis and stick them in, too. Wash and cut lemongrass into 4-inch segments, then whack them hard with the side of a wide nife to unlock those delicious oils. Slice each crosswise into super-thin rounds before putting lemongrass into the blender or food processor. (I blew out my blender - it totally overheated like a car engine -- because the lemongrass, even cut up, was to much to handle. Makara's food processor could handle it, but if you want to avoid the risk, do what Saran does. Keep the lemongrass in long segments, and cook it in the soup in chunks like that. It's so tough, diners won't be able to eat it even if they try.) Likewise, help out your food processor by cutting the galangal into small chunks. I'd peel the skin off first, but I noticed Makara didn't bother! I love to toast spices for 30 seconds in a dry small saute pan to release the locked-up flavors. As soon as you smell them, they're done! Don't walk away for a second, though because they'll burn. Cut kaffir lime leaves into thick strips. Get all the ingredients in list, plus salt and sugar, into to food processor. Add a little water, maybe 1/2 cup to get the ingredients moving. You want to end up with a thick, red paste that's pretty smooth but not silky by any means.

This recipe makes enough for ten servings of soup. Use it all if you're cooking for ten, or divide up and freeze what you don't use. You'll thank yourself later! You can adjust the spiciness by adding more or less birds-eye chili peppers. A half a pepper per person is mild when cooked over time with the rest of the ingredients. I imagine a whole pepper per person would be hot.

Or instead of all that, just buy 2 cans Maesre brand red curry paste from Thailand. It's pretty good, but homemade is magical. My ten cooking class attendees did a taste test and agreed.

Step 2: Make Soup

2 cans coconut milk

2 Tbsp vegetable oil

4 stems lemongrass, cut into 4-inch segments (if it's not in your curry paste)

3 whole kaffir lime leaves

fresh curry paste (recipe above) (about 1 cup)

2 1/2 pounds boness chicken meat, cut into bite-sized chunks or 5 lb bone-in chicken pieces, trimmed of fat and skin

1 tsp chicken bouillon (she used "Flavor Broth Mix" Dragonfly brand; I like Better than Bouillon)

2 sweet potatoes or yams, cut into 1- to 2-inch chunks

1/2 lb green beans, ends trimmed

1 eggplant, peeled and slice into thick chunks

1 yellow onion, peeled and sliced into wedges

sugar to taste

salte to taste

Vermicelli rice or wheat noodles (that means super thin!) or baguette

4 whole kaffir lime leaves, cut into tiniest slivers possible (aka chiffonade)

Wash lemongrass stems, cut into 4-inch segments and whack with the side of a large chef knife to release the divinely fragrant oils locked up in those woody stems. Suate them in a large soup pot in a couple tablespoons oil with 3 whole kaffir lime leaves. Put a teapot of water on high.

Once the lemongrass and kaffir have cooked in the oil a couple minutes, add one can coconut milk, the chicken bouiloon, and the curry paste, and bring to a biol. Then add the chicken. Stir to coat chicken in the curry sauce and cook on medium high about twenty-five minutes until all the chicken meat is cooked through. (Wash all cutting boards, utensils and hands that touched raw chicken to prevent bacteria from contaminating these things.)

Bring about 6 quarts of water to a boil in a second large pot for coking the noodles. (If you're using baguettte to soak up the sauce, skip the noodles.) When chicken is cooked all the way through (you can cut a piece of chicken open to see if the center is opaque), add one more can coconut milk to the chicken curry and enough hot water from the tea kettle to cover all the chicken completely. Stir. Add vegetables to the soup - yam first because it takes longer to cook, and then after a couple minutes, the eggplant, onion wedges, and green beans.

After about five mintues, try the veggies. When they're all soft throughout, turn off heat. Taste sauce. Could it use more salt or sugar? Adjust as you like. Sprinkle more chiffonade (finest slivers) of kaffir lime on top for a last infusion of magic! Boil vermicelli size rice noodles for 3 miutes, slightly longer for wheat flour noodles. When noodles are soft, strain. Serve curry soup in large bowls with noodles.

Step 3: Pile on Fresh Garnishes

fresh mung bean sprouts

cucumber strips

mint leaves

cilantro leaves

birds-eye chilis, thinly sliced

banana flower

green papaya

The Cambodian women piled all of these garnishes on top of their bowls of curry. The raw, cool freshness balances the rich, spicy cooked soup. Amazing! To prepare the garnishes, cover mung bean sprounts in fresh water, strain and repeat at least once. Peel and cut cucumber into thin strips. Wash mint, pick leaves off stems. Same for cilantro. Remove stems from birds-eye chilis and slice into super-thin rounds. Slice banana flower across the flower bud and soak round slivers in water with lime juice in it (she said this is to keep the color?). Peel papaya and use a wavy-edged peeler or mandolin to make long, thin strips. Pile on any or all garnishes on each bowl of soup.

copyright Lindsay Sterling 2011

See How To Do It

Cambodian Curry Soup

God I love this plant! It's a kaffir lime tree that grows in Makara's living room in Portland, Maine. Tear a leaf, smell it, and the boundaries of All Possible Goodness expand by three feet.

Kaffir lime leaves are a key ingredient in the soup. They're put in the soup at three different times. First, whole leaves cook in coconut milk. Then a whole bunch get blended into the curry paste. Finally, once the soup is done, you add fresh shavings for an extra fresh burst of Good.
Makara made enough curry for like 40 people... she did multiple batches of paste in her food processor.

When cooking for celebrations, Makara's garage doubles as a second kitchen, where her friend, Saran Svey, is in charge of cooking noodles, curry, and spring roll dipping sauce. Here, Saran adds vegetable chunks to the chicken curry soup.

Adding noodles to water

So the noodles are in easy-to-grab portions for adding to soup bowls, Mom Hoeung (Mom's her actual first name!) makes these special bundles out of the mass of noodles.

These noodle bundles also make it easy to grab the perfect amount for stuffing spring rolls.

Doesn't the sight of this neat stainer full of formerly messy noodles just make you want to take chaos everywhere...and just wrap it around your fingers into something beautiful?

This is the quite strange looking banana flower.

Turns out the mandolin slices it faster and better. She sends the flower shavings right into water with lime juice.

Then she makes a bowl of green papaya and banana flower strips for soup garnish.

Soup's done! Makara's mom, An I, serves a bowl.

And then you pile the top with cool, crisp, raw garnishes.

Here we are...the whole team of us. We made 6 Cambodian dishes that day in a ten hour cooking session! What a day!

From left to right, the cooks: Mom Hoeung (holding Makara's daughter, Gwen); Saran Svay; Makara's mother, An I; me, Lindsay Sterling; and Makara Meng.

photos: Lindsay Sterling

Secret Ingredients

Banana Flower: If you find one of these eggplant-colored strange beauties, wash it and shave rounds off the tip of the flower as thin as you can. Soak the shavings in water with lime juice squeezed into it. They said they did this to preserve the color. Makara pulled this out of a magic hat. I haven’t seen them at her store. The curry will be great without it.

Birds-eye Chili peppers. These come in green or red usually, and are about the size of a small child’s pinky finger. They’re super spicy, especially given that they’re so small. I would say 3 of these little guys would have the same spiciness as 1 habanero pepper. If you can’t find birds-eye chilis, use another fresh chili to give your curry zing and heat.

Coconut Milk: It’s made by massaging coconut meat shavings in water and then removing the actual coconut meat. It comes in cans. The fat separates so you can shake the can to make a uniform liquid before opening. Some cans have stabilizers in them keep the liquids from separating. I prefer without. Light coconut milk is just regular coconut milk watered down. Coconutdoesn’t keep very long, so use the entire can.

Curry Paste: Curry means different things all over the world. To a woman in India it means a blend of black mustard seeds, hot chilis, cumin, bay, cinnamon, turmeric, tomatoes prawns coconut milk. To this Cambodian family, it meant coconut milk and chilis, but then galangal, lemongrass, and kaffir lime. When you make curries from scratch, they’re more alive and exciting in flavor than anything pre-packaged in a spice jar or can. When these Cambodian ladies are in a hurry, though, they like to use Maesre brand Red curry past from Thailand as a substitute for theirs. It comes in a small can about the size and shape of a small tuna can.

Kaffir Lime Leaves: fragrant, fast moving, healing and warm, Kaffir lime leaves are pure magic. Just split one and breath it in. The plants grow well, I’ve seen first hand many times, as potted plants indoors in Maine. I’m going to try to graft a piece of one and grow it in a pot. If that doesn’t work I’ll have to resort to spending $45 buying in a fancy gardening/home catalogue, where I've seen them sold. Wish me luck!

Galangal. It’s a root that looks like ginger (it’s a relative) but its skin is a warmer tan and mildly shiny compared to its cousin. The flavor is a little less burning hot and a little more floral than ginger. You find it in the refrigerated section.

Green papaya. These are papayas that are not yet soft, ripe, and sweet. They’re green on the outside and hard. You peel the skin off, then use a rippled vegetable peeler (available at Asian markets) or mandolin to make thin strips. Don’t eat the seeds in the center. I don’t know what happens if you do. I think they just taste bad.

Mung Bean Sprouts. I have never seen really fresh sprouts in supermarkets. The ones I’ve found at the immigrant markets are creamy white, perky, clean, and pop in your mouth with freshness. Soak submerged in cold water to wash, then strain before using.

I found all my ingredients for this at Mittapheap World Market (except the banana flower – good luck with that one!) at 61 Washington Ave., Portland, Maine, open 7 days a week 9am-7pm. 207-773-5523. Look for an Asian market in your area, or maybe you can find fresh ingredients to order online these days.

Copyright Lindsay Sterling 2011