Cambodia: The Country That Turned Insects Into a Way of Life
- La Rédaction
- 9 hours ago
- 5 min read
From the rice paddies of the Tonlé Sap to the smoking stalls of Skun, all the way to the fine-dining tables of Siem Reap, Cambodia has cultivated a singular relationship with insects for centuries. Neither a sideshow curiosity nor a mere relic of famine, Khmer entomophagy tells a story of resilience, craft and, increasingly, science. A deep dive into a tradition that may yet help feed the future.
A practice far older than the Khmer Rouge
Insect-eating in Cambodia is often, wrongly, traced back to the great famine of the Khmer Rouge years (1975-1979). The image is a persistent one: rural populations, stripped of everything, forced to dig through the earth to survive. That period did indeed act as an accelerant. Around Skun, in Kampong Cham province, starving villagers began digging up the tarantulas that populated burrows in the clay soil, for lack of any other available protein. But local research and testimonies gathered on the ground show that hunting spiders and insects for food and medicine existed well before the Pol Pot regime, with some sources tracing the practice back more than a century. Famine did not invent the custom; it generalised its use and cemented insects firmly into Cambodia's everyday diet, particularly in the countryside, where they were never a marginal category but sit within a broader group of "non-meats" alongside frogs, scorpions and other small wild prey.
Skun, the fried-tarantula capital of the world
An hour's drive north of Phnom Penh, at the junction of National Roads 6 and 7, the small town of Skun (sometimes spelled Skuon) has built a reputation that reaches far beyond Cambodia's borders: that of "Spiderville." At its market, women who have sat at the same tables for generations lay out entire trays of black, hairy tarantulas alongside crickets, grasshoppers, silkworms and giant beetles. The spiders, commonly known as Thai zebra tarantulas, are either gathered from burrows in the surrounding forest or, increasingly, bred in holes dug into the ground, as demand has outstripped the natural supply. Fried with garlic and lightly salted, they offer, regulars say, a crunchy shell that gives way to a softer interior, sometimes compared to crab or chicken. Local traditional medicine also credits them with easing back pain or respiratory trouble — claims never scientifically validated, but firmly rooted in popular culture.
From cheap street snack to serious cuisine
For a long time, Cambodian insects stayed a street-food affair: bought in small bags, eaten standing up, shared with a cold beer. The night markets of Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, as well as the streets around the Royal Palace, still sell them by the kilo alongside frogs and grasshoppers. But from the mid-2010s onward, a new generation of restaurateurs set out to lift insects out of their cheap-and-fried reputation. In Siem Reap, Bugs Café, opened in 2014 by a French expatriate couple working alongside a Khmer chef, became a pioneer, serving spring rolls filled with weaver ants, sweet-potato veloutés topped with bee larvae, and even a burger made from a blended patty of ants, bees, silkworms and crickets. The restaurant left a mark on an entire generation of travellers before closing its doors in 2020, weakened by pandemic-era restrictions; its current status remains uncertain, and it is worth checking whether it has reopened before planning a visit. In its wake, other addresses in Siem Reap have picked up the torch, including Bug Bistro, which carries forward the same ambition of treating insects as a dish in their own right rather than a shock-value tourist gimmick. The stated goal across these establishments remains the same: to show that insects can be cooked with the same rigour as any prized meat, rather than reduced to a thrill-seeking curiosity for travellers chasing a photo opportunity.
Crickets, giant water bugs and silkworms: a living inventory
Cambodia's entomophagic diversity surprises even seasoned travellers. The country is home to several varieties of crickets and mole crickets, silkworm pupae whose cocoons have already been unwound for textile production, giant water bugs prized in sauces for their musky flesh, beetles, grasshoppers, and red weaver ants whose natural acidity brightens many dishes. In rural provinces such as Takeo and Kampong Thom, as well as along the Bassac River in Phnom Penh, catching, preparing and selling these insects supports thousands of families, particularly women, for whom the activity remains an accessible source of income alongside farm work.
What the science says: a genuinely competitive protein
Far from being a mere culinary oddity, entomophagy has drawn close attention from nutritionists and international agencies alike. In its landmark 2013 report, the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) estimated that around two billion people worldwide regularly eat insects, and noted that many edible species meet human requirements for essential amino acids while being rich in mono- and polyunsaturated fats, as well as copper, iron, magnesium, manganese, phosphorus, zinc and certain B vitamins. Crickets, among the most studied species, show a dry-weight protein content that can exceed 60 grams per 100 grams — more than beef, eggs or soy by equivalent weight. More recent research published in the scientific journal Insects (2022) confirms that the digestibility of processed insect proteins can reach 85 to 95 percent, a level comparable to casein or beef, and highlights bioactive compounds with antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties still under study.
Allergies, chitin and precautions worth knowing
This nutritional richness doesn't come without caveats. Insects belong to the same broad phylum as crustaceans and share proteins with them, such as tropomyosin, which can trigger cross-reactions in people allergic to shellfish or dust mites. Chitin, the polymer that makes up their exoskeleton, acts as a beneficial fibre for gut microbiota when properly cooked, but can also limit protein absorption if the insect is poorly prepared. Health authorities also recommend thorough cooking and traceable sourcing: wild-caught insects from polluted areas or treated with pesticides can concentrate contaminants, a point raised both by the FAO and by the most recent academic studies on the subject. This is precisely what is pushing part of Cambodia's supply chain — including tarantula breeders around Skun — to gradually favour controlled burrow-rearing over forest collection alone, a practice increasingly strained by deforestation.
A model for the future of food?
As the global population keeps growing and cattle or pig farming places a heavy strain on water, land and greenhouse-gas budgets, the FAO presents insect farming as one of the most promising avenues for diversifying protein sources worldwide. A cricket needs only about two kilograms of feed to produce one kilogram of body mass, a far better ratio than conventional livestock, and can be raised on organic byproducts. In this context, Cambodia occupies a singular position: it never needed convincing. Its rural tradition, never broken by the westernisation of eating habits, now makes it a living laboratory that researchers, chefs and travellers are watching with growing interest — part heritage to preserve, part model to export.
The bottom line
Far more than a touristic thrill to check off a travel list, Cambodia's relationship with insects carries within it a memory of survival, a craft passed down through generations, and a nutritional relevance now backed by international research. From Skun to the tables of Siem Reap, it continues to write, beneath the crackling shell of a fried tarantula, one of the most remarkable food stories in Southeast Asia.