Phnom Penh Restaurant Reviews – Dim Sum at the Almond
It was the last Sunday of March and after firing up the Vespa (a thirty eight year old Sprint now with dents) and passing the Hieronymus Bosch depiction of hell known to all as Bodeng (the Building), it didn’t take long to drive to the Almond Hotel, where I’d arranged to meet Rizzo for lunch of dum sum: the classic smaller Chinese picking dishes served alongside tea, from the very early morning to the early afternoon – or in our case, noon on a Phnom Penh Sunday.
Arriving acceptably late, my usual dining partner, the priapic Frank Rizzo, keen as ever, was already there and waiting. A waitress appeared from nowhere and hurriedly placed a chair under my behind as if I was in an arthritic mess; I noticed then that by the way he was rubbing his hands and excitedly hopping up and down in his chair, expert Chinese Scoffer Number One (Rizzo) was either starving hungry or his gout was playing up.
But it wasn’t the food that was getting him going. Rizzo was already hopelessly smitten with the greeter: a sultry Chinese woman in a tight dress who moved about the restaurant with confidence and purpose. Before he could become too avaricious, I hissed to the New Yorker, “You know those fish at the Psar Chat fish market, catfish particularly. You can tell if they’re fresh by the eyes. Well, if you were a fish, I’d leave you on the slab and I think she would too.” That took the wind out of his sails.
Nature’s masterpiece then glided over with menus and we were soon planning our journey from the baked to the fried to the steamed to the sweet, anticipating plenty of good things in small packages.
While Rizzo pondered, I glanced around me taking in the atmosphere, which was subdued compared to the frenetic bustle of our regular Chinese hang outs on St 136 and there were no London style queues spilling out of the front door.
The restaurant was big enough not to get cabin fever with burnished brown walls, a vast bronze antique bell hanging from the high ceiling, and strangely a Chinese apothecary cabinet complete with dried toads etc. The staff weren’t under siege and soon enough the manager (late forties, black suit, owlish face) appeared to take our order.
It came as a grave disappointment that Cha Sui Baau (Cantonese pork buns) were already done and an even bigger disappointment that some of my all time favorites weren’t even on the menu. I searched in vain for a yam or taro croquette and my quest for steamed spare ribs in black bean sauce was also thwarted.
Nevertheless, we managed to find enough to keep us busy and the waitresses were soon marching purposefully towards us, wicker baskets to hand.
The prawn toast was just so-so. A square amber roasted puff decorated with hundreds of tiny sesame seeds, it looked pleasant enough, but had the taste and texture of frozen paste that had recently seen the inside of a microwave.
On the other hand, Lo bak go, “turnip” cake, made with daikon radish, sliced and fried with pork sausage and dried shrimp was bliss and unequivocally excellent. I honestly don’t recall having had better anywhere and the lack of greasiness showed expert frying in the kitchen.
Next came steamed shrimp with chopped spring onions, grated ginger, soy sauce, shao hsing rice wine, sesame oil and corn flour to keep the mixture together, and all wrapped up in an open-top rice gluten dough sitting prettily on a bed of greaseproof paper.
Then we were brought Cheong fun -steamed rice noodle rolls filled with shrimps and beancurd. Nothing to get overly excited about but it was all perfectly fine and the ingredients were fresh and well flavored – much the same as our next course of steamed barbeque shrimp and rice parcels served puffing away in their bamboo basket.
Hot on the heels of dishes four and five, were dishes six and seven – namely Siu-mai, steamed pork wrapped in thin, translucent wheat flour wrappers which Rizzo plucked effortlessly from their box with his chopsticks without having to jiggle them from their paper bed, and then classic Hong Kong style egg tarts in a puff pastry.
The verdict? This is not a corporate clip joint, nor is it a grotty back street, rear of Psah Thmei cut price option. Still, the Almond is no more than an average mid-range Dim Sum experience for basic dum sum needs with the menu being a pretty bog-standard affair.
Seven courses came in at $20 not including drinks, and the $2.50 charged for a weeny 330ml Tsing Tao was frankly extortionate when compared to the $1.50 for 640 ml Tsing Tao we’re used to paying at our usual Chinese hang outs. And we managed to clean all the plates and baskets within thirty minutes. Now that didn’t take long, did it?
The Almond Hotel, Sotheros Blvd, Chamkamorn, Phnom Penh.
