4 days ago
- General
- South China Morning Post
Why Cambodian-American chefs want to share their cuisine and stop talking about the past
Chef Phila Lorn was not necessarily aiming for authentic Cambodian food when he opened Mawn in Philadelphia, the US city where he was born, two years ago. So when he approached some Cambodian teen patrons he braced himself for questioning.
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'Someone's going to say something like, 'That's not how my mom makes her oxtail soup',' Lorn says. 'So I walk up to the table. I'm like, 'How is everything?' And the kid looks up at me and he goes, 'It doesn't even matter, dude. So glad you're here'.'
It was at that moment that Lorn realised Mawn – the phonetic spelling of the Khmer word for 'chicken' – was more than a noodle shop. It meant representation.
In June, he will be representing his dual cultures – Cambodian and Philly – at his first James Beard Awards as a nominee for best emerging chef. In the food world, it is akin to getting nominated for the Academy Awards.
Phila Lorn and Rachel Lorn opened Mawn restaurant in Philadelphia two years ago. Photo: AP
Cambodian restaurants are not as common in the United States as Chinese takeaways or sushi spots. Cambodian food is often lazily lumped in with its Southeast Asian neighbours, despite distinct differences. But in recent years, enterprising Cambodian American chefs have come into their own, introducing traditional dishes or putting their own twist on them.
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Many of them were raised in families who fled the Khmer Rouge's reign of terror, which began 50 years ago and killed about 1.7 million people. Since then, the Cambodian community in the US has grown and put down roots.
