We set out to explore Vancouver’s historic Chinatown, expecting to find a casual noodle joint for lunch. Instead, turning a corner, we were stopped in our tracks. A line stretched from the door of Phnom Penh all the way to the street corner, packed with local residents waiting for the doors to open. Clearly, this was no ordinary lunch spot.
Curiosity won. We edged closer, studied the menus taped to the window, and pulled out our phones for a quick search. The verdict: Phnom Penh was a Michelin- Bib restaurant, lauded for its Cambodian and Vietnamese cuisine year after year. So much for noodles—plans changed immediately. Reservations were long gone, but with a bit of luck we landed on the waitlist and settled in to see if fortune would favor us.
As we waited, we realized Chinatown was buzzing with more than hungry diners. The Light-Up Chinatown festival was in full swing. Color, music, and energy filled the streets, and before long, festival representatives stopped to chat. Spotting us as tourists, they asked where we were from, then enthusiastically quizzed us on whether we knew the menu. We admitted we didn’t, and they wasted no time pointing us toward the must-orders for first-time diners.
The line moved briskly, and within 45 minutes we were seated inside. The dining room was simple and modest, but alive with chatter in multiple Asian languages and the unmistakable joy of people who knew they were in the right place.
The menu is daunting with more than 200 items, written in Khmer and Vietnamese with an English translation. It’s large enough to paralyze most diners, but we had a secret weapon – our new friends’ advice. We ordered two of Phnom Penh’s most famous dishes:
Deep-fried chicken wings with garlic and lemon pepper sauce. A huge portion of 15-20 wings in a light batter fried to glass-shattering crispness, doused generously with garlic and a lemon pepper sauce on the side.
Fried Rice with Chinese sausage, egg, carrot, and green onion. The perfect side with finely chopped well-seasoned pork sausage, egg and green onions in fried rice. Every bite fed the desire for another, but though we tried mightily we could not answer the challenge.
The portions were astonishing—enough to feed a family of four, and every bite was so flavorful and balanced we understood why people happily waited outside for the chance to eat here.
Then came dessert -Durian Sticky Rice. Durian, the legendary fruit with its penetrating, putrid odor, banned from subways and hotels across Asia, but celebrated for its custard-like flesh. I had to ask. If it was truly durian, where was the smell? Our server smiled and explained that yes, the pungency is real, but the restaurant processes the fruit after hours, and once cooked with coconut milk the infamous odor disappears.
Reassured, we went for it. And in a word, it was…delicious. Creamy, sweet, and with a flavor unlike anything we’d tried before.
Phnom Penh was a lucky find. It was a dining experience that turned a casual stroll through Chinatown into a memorable culinary adventure.