Tamarind in Angkor Village Cuisine: From Zhou Daguan's Memoirs to Today

This research draws from Zhou Daguan's Memoirs on Angkorian society at the end of the 13th century and their contribution to social and cultural anthropology.

The author thus places several remarks made by the Chinese traveler on the culinary culture of Angkor's people in perspective with practices he was able to observe in family settings in the Siem Reap region today. This note particularly focuses on the place of tamarind in the preparation of sauces and condiments in Cambodian cuisine.

Context and Sources

This article aims to put current seasoning practices in the Siem Reap region into perspective with two short passages from the famous "Memoirs" of Zhou Daguan (Tcheou Ta-Kouan) on Angkor and its inhabitants, the only document of some substance known about the daily life of the Khmers toward the end of the 13th century. The passages in question relate the absence in Cambodia of two sauces known as essential in Chinese cuisine: soy sauce and vinegar. In no case, within the framework of this reading note, is it a matter of any attempt to reconstruct the culinary practices of those times, although such an enterprise is not entirely impossible a priori, through true historical ethnology.

Publications in Western languages on Zhou Daguan and his writing on ancient Cambodia include at least two authoritative ones: that of the great sinologist Paul Pelliot dating from 1951 and that of Peter Harris published in 2007. These two authors have each warned readers and invited caution regarding deformations, missing or truncated passages or chapters, or more or less deliberate additions in this essential source. Refer to their respective works.

I will simply recall here the structure of the text as it appears in a 16th-century version, the oldest known, which precedes the forever lost original by almost three centuries. It begins with a general introduction followed by forty rubrics of unequal lengths, whose progression or arrangement does not always obey an immediately discernible logic. Almost the entire ensemble consists of ethnographic descriptions or remarks on the life of the city of Angkor and its inhabitants.

Research Background

For some time now, I have been conducting research in culinary sociology on today's Angkor villages. The study covers six essentially rural villages, three villages that could be quickly qualified as peri-urban, and several extra-village culinary situations.

Uncovering a historical depth or dimension, in the strong sense of the term, from current practices was neither part of the initial objective nor the investigative approach. It was only during the research that certain field data proved interesting to compare with the rare available historical testimonies. I will add, on one hand, that Zhou Daguan's approximate one-year stay is limited to the Angkor region; on the other hand, my assertions concern only the Angkor villages I studied and do not prejudge the evolution of future culinary habits.

Soy Sauce Absence

Let the Chinese observer speak, somewhat reversing the order of the passages' progression: "The natives also do not know how to prepare soy, for lack of barley and beans."

In the area covered, or more precisely, in all the households and various situations in my study, I never once encountered the use or even the presence of soy sauce in the kitchen.

This shows how, on this precise point, Zhou Daguan's observation remains relevant today. I hasten to specify, however, that the study concerns daily meals, primarily domestic and secondarily those prepared and eaten communally in various Angkor monument restoration work sites, but always outside commercial contexts. Consequently, meals and snacks served in restaurants or village stalls are excluded, where, indeed, the non-daily in the strict sense is offered.

That said, it goes without saying that in urban areas, or even merely semi-urbanized ones, soy sauce is quite frequently used in kitchens. Many brands are even manufactured in Cambodia itself. Its use seems to have been anchored in urban culinary habits for a long time.

One can even imagine that quite early on, soy penetrated the countryside along the banks of the Great River and its tributaries, where Chinese immigrants of various ethnicities preferably settled. This is, however, only a general idea, as it would obviously be imprudent to conjecture further. Let us simply note that Zhou Daguan several times implies that, in his time, Chinese people were already numerous in Angkor, and that Chinese products were negotiable there. Some, like the low table, outright introduced a new "body technique" among the Khmers of the era. Yet soy sauce – returning to our subject – was still unknown according to Zhou Daguan's testimony.

Vinegar and Tamarind

He adds about another condiment, this time carrying not salty but acidic flavor: "The natives do not know how to make vinegar. If they want to make a sauce acidic, they add leaves from the hien-p'ing tree (? Tamarind). If the tree is budding, they use the buds; if the tree is in seed, they use the seeds."

Although incomplete regarding the use of natural acidic elements, the above assertion rings true. In the framework of this note, I will try to quickly confront it with the already presented field data.

It is known that vinegar is well-known and quite widely used by Cambodians today. Unlike soy sauce, which is always manufactured, vinegar, of which there is great variety, is often made individually for household needs. In other words, its production is relatively easy. In the countryside, it is quite common to make it from palm juice.

And yet, not once did I encounter it during my research (meaning: in the region covered by it). For acidic taste, people resort to a multitude of leaves and fruits whose complete list I cannot produce. In this range, as Zhou Daguan indicates, tamarind (ampil) obviously features: its young leaves, its fruits at different stages of growth.

Tamarind in Khmer Dishes

What are the Khmer preparations where acidity plays a particularly marked flavor role? Roughly, they fall into two categories of dishes and sauces in general. The first category is that of "liquid dishes" (mhaup teuk) whose dominant flavor tends toward acidity: the samlâ mchou. The second type, from the "solid dishes" (mhaup kôk) group, is represented by the bok category, "pounded (dish)." As accompaniment to certain dishes – for example, grilled fish – most sauces or condiments include an acidic component.

Concretely, let us now see the use made of tamarind, since it is mentioned in Zhou Daguan. The following examples all come from the single area bordering the Roluoh market, the most "urbanized" compared to the rest of the studied zone. It was chosen deliberately for its relatively outward-facing character. In principle, in such a milieu – but this remains an a priori – environmental resources become either poorer or little exploited. The house vegetable garden often appears less vital than in open countryside, and daily domestic economy relies more on commercial transactions. Let us place the noted examples in the monsoon cycle, as it governs that of vegetation, particularly from the culinary exploitation viewpoint.

Young Tamarind (Fruit)

The first example illustrates the use of young tamarind fruits – tamarind. Several tamarind trees grow on the large plot of the house in question, without it having a truly worthy vegetable garden. We are toward the end of August, the monsoon has been installed for a little over three months. A grilled andèng fish is one of the two dishes prepared for this evening's meal. Of course, a condiment is needed to accompany it.

In town, not to mention restaurants where the reflex is almost automatic, one would readily use teuk trei. Such a sauce would be enhanced with various ingredients, including some acidic fruit – and why not tamarind – as long as the very salty teuk trei commands the general taste. This is not the case here, where the sought dominant taste must be, at least, balanced between salty and acidic, if not rather pulled toward acidic.

A nearly complete view of the ingredients used for this dry, pounded condiment: young tamarinds, onion, garlic, m-âm aromatic herb, chilies

The salty element will be salt. With some effort, one can distinguish grains emerging from the mortar's bottom

The quantity of finished product put in the small bowl will suffice for this single grilled fish

Young Tamarind Leaves

We are in mid-September, still in full summer monsoon. The remaining fruits from the same tamarind tree have somewhat thinned out and above all become ripe.

But what interests our cook is the young, all-green leaves, abundant, of which she picks a certain quantity. Indeed, the evening meal's liquid dish is a samlâ mchou with crabs.

It must be said that crab, in the rainy season, although relatively easy to find, is less appreciated than in the dry season when it must indeed be laboriously dug out with a shovel from its hole, about 80 cm in very hard soil, but the reward is that, having remained in estivation for months, it becomes very fatty.

The main ingredients are (photo above) tamarind leaves, lemongrass arranged in a bundle, which is left only to infuse for its olfactory qualities before being removed from the finished product, galangal (rumdéng), indispensable to many dishes, garlic, prahok (salted and fermented fish paste) and coarse salt for salty taste, palm sugar, sacred basil (mreah preou) to be added last, when everything is ready.

Whole crabs (flesh and shell) vigorously pounded, only the juice diluted in a small amount of water is kept

The garlic, galangal sliced into pieces, and tamarind leaves are then also pounded.

The mreah preou leaves, whose Khmers, despite being "Indianized," know nothing of their sacred and religious dimension in India, finish enhancing the samlâ's taste

Mature Tamarind

We are in another household in the same Roluoh Lech village. A particular dish is being prepared there, halfway between a true dish and an appetizer, a kind of side dish eaten outside meals: a bok l-hong known as "papaya salad." It should be recalled here that a Khmer bok l-hong, prepared outside commerce, is very different from Thai som tam or Lao tam mak houng. The use of prahok instead of kapi (Thai shrimp paste) or padèk (Lao) is one of its characteristics.

The banana leaf envelope enclosed in a bamboo steamer placed some distance from the embers contains prahok

One also sees a whole phtuok fish being cooked the same way, whose cooked flesh is then pounded with all the ingredients. Another remarkable trait: for Khmer salad, lime is not indispensable and systematic as for its Thai and Lao counterparts. It is often sought to replace it with another acidic element that is not too neutral. In our case, tamarind is resorted to. Young fruits would be ideal, but it is impossible to obtain them at the beginning of January. One must settle for mature fruits, as some remain, although most have already reached maturity. The preparation is not so simple.

It must first, with a knife, remove the skin, then slice each peeled fruit lengthwise to finally rid them of seeds.

The ingredients in the mortar are pounded first, before mixing them, still in the same mortar

The ingredients in the mortar are pounded first, before mixing them, still in the same mortar, with the crumbled flesh of the grilled fish, then finally with the grated papaya. The whole will be served with peanuts and a set of vegetables, some from the vegetable garden, like the papaya itself.

It is not inopportune to return briefly to the first household to see, at the same time of year, another form of tamarind use at the same growth stage. One of the meal's dishes is ph-âk kreum tonsay, that is, tiny fermented fish of a certain kind. Among the accompanying vegetables, slices of tamarind not rid of either bark or seeds are noted. Thus, it is the taste of this fruit in its entirety that is sought here, the astringency and hint of bitterness of the seeds correcting the pulp's acidity…

Ripe Tamarind

We have seen that ripe tamarind can be found here and there, in small quantities during the full rainy season. But it is in the hot dry season that it reigns supreme on the trees. Its appearance and constitution change drastically: the cortex comes off almost by itself, in any case without difficulty, the seeds become very hard and are no longer used. Only the pulp is used, presenting a different but equally appreciated taste as when younger. The advantage is that it can be kept for a long time, and thus available year-round. Without a tamarind tree at home or neighbors', one only has to buy it in any village shop. The price is quite modest.

The village of Ta Prak adjoins the Roluoh market, which is expanding and modernizing day by day. Located in an urbanized zone, the household in question nevertheless retains a rural lifestyle barely disturbed. The vegetable garden offers a large variety of fruit trees and culinary plants.

The two papayas, only one of which will be used, come from the vegetable garden

For this evening, one of the meal's dishes is a very simple samlâ mchou of papaya. Two phtuok fish were bought at the nearby market this morning. The two papayas, only one of which will be used, come from the vegetable garden. Successively put in the pot on the fire: a bundle of lemongrass and a piece of crushed galangal (left only to infuse), chopped garlic, sugar, salt, and a piece of prahok.

From the first boils, flat slices of green papaya are incorporated, followed by pieces of fish. Only then is the mchou (acidic element) attended to, in this case ripe tamarind.

In a little hot water taken from the pot itself, the whole pods, nevertheless rid of bark, are soaked, pressing them with a spoon to extract the acidic juice from the pulp

All the liquid is then poured into the pot

The operation is repeated several times to extract the maximum from the tamarind. Then all coarse matter is discarded. Thus, the finished product can deceive the eye under the appearance of a rather poor dish.

Here are some examples of current tamarind use that show how the second passage from Zhou Daguan already cited remains relevant. It must be said and repeated that the Chinese envoy's intention was not to speak of tamarind, but to inform his compatriots in China that in Cambodia there was neither soy sauce nor vinegar. The detail is important for the Chinese because these are two absolutely indispensable sauces or condiments in their cuisine.

From this gloss or commentary on tamarind, reflection should, in a subsequent step, turn to the influence that Chinese cuisine (still weak? or even nil?) might have exerted on Khmer cuisine in the 13th century. Given the quite frequent current use of these two sauces in urban settings, we are beginning to have a diachronic view, timid it is true. On the other side of the balance, but this time synchronically, we have just seen that in Angkor today, even in relatively urbanized settings, tamarind continues to be resorted to at its different growth stages.

Of course, it would be out of the question to draw a definitive conclusion from a single example. Tamarind, moreover, is only one ingredient in the vast range of those providing acidity: krasaing, tromoung, pongro, sandan, mkak (cultivated or wild), kralanh, thnoeng, kréng, green mango, and many other plants I ignore. Not only are plants resorted to for their acidity, but also, very often, ângkrâng, large red ants that make their nests on tree branches. If the description is extended to all these ingredients, an important part of rural Khmer cuisine will have been addressed, namely culinary sauces and condiments. Thus, one will better understand the different degrees of penetration of foreign culinary elements and styles into Cambodia, according to regions and types of srok ("country").

By Ang Chouléan - Ethnologist, Royal University of Fine Arts (Phnom Penh), advisor to the APSARA authority, and founder of the Yosothor association.