Mike's Burger House: Inn and Out Knockoff in Phnom Penh, or Why Globalization Is Awesome

Mike's Burger House
Russian Boulevard, in the Sokimex gas station, Tuol Kork
Phnom Penh, Cambodia




An Inn and Out knock-off in the dark heart of Phnom Penh? Believe it. Cambodian owner "Mike" spent much of his adult life in Los Angeles and developed a taste for the indisputably tasty stylings of Inn and Out Burger in California. Upon returning home to Cambodia, he opened Mike's way out of town, on the way to the airport. Globalization is awesome sometimes.



The restaurant's been moved a little closer to the thick of things, into a Sokimex gas station on Russian Boulevard, but the basic concept - cheap, large unapologetically American cheeseburgers alongside a few other US stalwarts - is unchanged. And man, do my boyfriend and I appreciate it.



Sometimes a cheeseburger with fake cheese, fries, and no weird Asian interpretations of such is what our little expat hearts most desire in the world, and that is what Mike's delivers. Even better, we can actually afford it. Cheeseburgers start at $2.50, a plate of fries so big that me and my comically oversized boyfriend can't finish it is $3.99, and you can finish off with an A&W rootbeer float. Man, I'm almost tearing up over ground meat. There's also a counter of US candy, some US grocery products, and a few other random things on offer.



I find these the best, or at least the most intrinsically comforting burgers in Phnom Penh, for a couple of simple reasons.

1. Fake cheese. Most places serving burgers here use real cheese and that is totally off-point. Fake, melty cheese makes a good fast-food burger. So sue me

2. Real sesame buns. Not sure where Mike sources these wonderful things as I haven't seen them elsewhere in town, but they're good. Also, toasted.

3. Special sauce. I don't care if it's actually ketchup, mayo, and mustard with some pickle juice, or whatever, it is of vast and all-encompassing import.

4. Size. Burgers that are actually American-sized are a true rarity here. Actually, I'm pretty sure these burgers are bigger than Inn and Out's stuff. Also, thick, non-frozen beef patties are always nice, especially in The Country of Suspicious Cow Meat.

5. Plenty of crisp iceberg lettuce and, if you ask for them, grilled onions. Grilled onions always make a cheeseburger better. I can actually show you a scientific equation to prove this if you give me an hour notice.



If you're some kind of Hindu or something, you can get a chicken sandwich, though it is by no means any better for you than a cheeseburger. Cheese, chicken breast, special sauce, grilled onions, green grilled chili and lots of lettuce. Pretty good and simple.



It's pretty damn hard to take a sexy photo of a chili burger without some serious cosmetic alterations, but I tried. The chili burger is a very LA sort of thing (well, according to Californians) and this is a worthy effort, though I will and always shall be kind of a chili snob.



Excellent fries, the finishing touch. Some places have good burgers and distinctly mediocre fries, but you'll still eat there - fries are sort of the finishing touch. I think he hand-makes em', which is all the better. They're salty, crispy, and thin-cut, and Jesus Christ there are a lot of them.

It's a hike out here, which means the clientele is mostly expats, Cambodians with a taste for American food, and a whole bunch of missionaries post-church on Sundays. Sometimes crowded, but seats always open up fast, as is the way of fast food giants. There's even serve-your-own condiments. Man, be still my heart. I love you, Mike's Burger House.

Shawarma: One of Lebanon's Better Innovations

Shawarma
Sisowath Quay, near Mao's bar and the Night Market
023 720 011 for delivery
Phnom Penh, Cambodia




Shawarma are a staple of late-night drinking life throughout much of the world - though curious enough, not the USA - and Phnom Penh's barhoppers have taken to these Lebanese pita bread sandwiches in a big way.

Which explains the two PP outposts of Shawarma, specializing in various riffs on the theme, along with a variety of Lebanese snack items, all at delightfully cheap prices. There's chicken, beef, kafta, shish taouk, kebbe, and lamb varieties on offer, as well as whatever specials strike their fancy. There's also hummus, feta cheese salad, falafel, and some phyllo-dough Lebanese pastries on the menu. They also deliver for a buck, which is convenient when you want to eat something incredibly messy at work.



Chicken shawarma with garlic sauce ($3.00) is pretty much my simple-and-good standby, and, as the place is apparently owned by Genuine Lebanese People, it really is good. Fresh pita bread warmed on a griddle with marinated chicken, fried onions, creamy garlic sauce, lettuce, tomato, pickle, and mint. Yum. Shawarmas fall apart within about five seconds of being bitten into in my experience, especially when you're drunk, but they provide plates.



Shawarma also offers excellent fresh hummus, served with pita bread. A drizzle of olive oil and some kalamata olives on top. Definitely satisfies my occasional, profound hummus cravings. Very smooth and not grainy like some efforts around here.



Vegetarians will be happy to know they are adequately provided for here in the Lebanese junk food department. The falafel, as is to be expected, is excellent.

It's a little restaurant with overly bright lighting and some cool paintings on the wall, and you can watch the cheery waitresses make your sandwiches while sipping on an Orangina. Music wise, there's always either Akon singing about how he wants to fucckkk you fucckkk yooouuu in autotune, or sentimental 70's music on in the dining area. It's almost to the Pavlovian point where listening to Akon makes my boyfriend and I really want to eat shawarma.

There's one outlet on Sisowath Quay, open all day and until around 9:00 PM, and another outlet on Street 51, across the street from the Heart of the Darkness, that opens around 9:30 and closes at - sometime really, really late, as I've seen them still putting shawarmas together in the vicnity of 5:00 am. (Admitting freely I have spent time wandering the skeezy environs of Street 51 at unholy hours of night here, but I think that's a rite of passage for new Phnom Penh expats....right?

Food Frippery

photo via the NYTimes.com

Many Summer Internships Going Organic - NYTimes

Kidlets from nice schools are streaming onto organic farms to complete internships in decidely non literary topics - milking cows and rolling cheeses, anyone? The cynic in me finds the prospect of a bunch of Renaissance Literature majors mucking out pig pens to be vastly amusing ("Omigod but it's so dirty!), but the idealist, nice person that lurks somewhere within my soul thinks it's a rather charming trend. I suppose a natural reaction to both the preponderance of technology and economic upheaval is getting back to nature - and liberal arts majors who've read a little too much Romantic poetry are especially prone to acting on their agricultural impulses. I just pity the rough n' ready farmer who has to root an Arabic romantic poetry specialist out of bed at four in the morning. As for me - the archetypical soft and squishy liberal arts major - I can't say I'm lining up to work in the burgeoning field of sheep herding myself. I'll probably regret it very much when the apocalypse comes.

A Leader Looking for a Following - SacBee

The Boon Boon Cafe in Sacramento gets another great review. Has anyone made it out there of late? I've really got to put it on my list. Thai fusion sounds like a lot of fun in my book. I also intend to get to Udupi Cafe for some chaat in the near future.

In regards to Senor Blair Anthony Robertson, who seems to get reamed out fairly regularly on the Bee's always-entertaining comments page: I like the guy. He's a good writer, he's interesting, and although he isn't the wine expert Mike Dunne was, he brings a good voice to the page. Although he does tend to drool on the knee of restaurants he *likes* to an extent I find kinda embarrassing, he can take apart *crappy* restaurants with charming wit and verve. I think we should let him live.

Burgers from Lotteria, South Korea's McDonalds - A Hamburger Today

Robyn Lee of Hamburger Today reviews South Korean's McDonalds equivalant. Those rice bun burgers look totally odd but delicious. As for the squid burger: hell yeah, I'd go there. The bulgogi burger? Beats me why that ain't already on the menu at our Hawaiian BBQ joints. I think someone who is more industrious then I shall ever be should construct a website functioning as a database of world fast food places. I'll try to take a bunch of photos in Spain and Italy. (Italy has GOOD fast food).

Drinking Age in Different Countries - Cognac.com

Ever wonder about the drinking age in Paraguay? Cognac.com has got your back. (It's 20, in case you were curious). America, along with Indonesia and Palau, has the oldest age at 21. Good company to be in, I guess. Of course, you could be in Libya, Sudan, or Iran (among others) where alochol is completely illegal, so perhaps we should stop complaining.

indian street food: chaat

INDIAN STREET FOOD



Perhaps the first advice offered to vistors to India is "Don't eat the street food." You would do well to completely ignore this. Gastric complaints go away (generally.) Happy memories last forever.

India has an incredibly strong street food tradition, putting the roving dirty-water hot dog stands of our own country to considerable shame. This is due to India having less regulations about basically everything, which means both more variety and more opportunity for sorrow and woe. (Life is like that anyway.) You can pick up everything from kebabs to fruit salad to fried fish to chaat on the street, and variations exist in almost every town and region and state. An exhaustive survey of the delicious treats to be found across India would take much more time and patience then I have, so here's what I encountered. Let's begin with chaat.


The chaat stand near my office in Bangalore. Note the bags of pani puris to the left.

- Chaat is the most famous Indian street or fast food, a catchall term meaning "to lick or taste." In common usage, chaat just stands for delicious, savory snacks that are eaten either for lunch or at some time between the usual meals. Chaat is almost always vegetarian and generally comprised of some sort of delicious carbohydrate - common ingredients include chickpeas, yogurt, tamarind and chili sauce, and chopped tomatoes and onions. Chaat masala, a distinctive spice mixture featuring dried green mango (amchoor) is also a major player - I bought a bunch of the stuff back home and enjoy sprinkling it on fruit salad. There are roughly two million different varieties of chaat which vary from city to city, which indicates you should probably try as many kinds as possible if you know what's good for you.



Chaat may be found everywhere from gungy and slightly scary street stalls to fancy expensive restaurants - pretty much everyone adores it. I favor getting my chaat from stalls that are one notch above moveable carts (to avoid picking up a stray amoeba), but you can be a wuss and go to a real sit-down restaurant. I guess.


A fancy-schmancy version of bhel puri served up at San Francisco's commendable Dosa.

What chaat varieties do I recommend? Bhel puri is my absolute favorite chaat dish, composed of puffed rice mixed with sev (fried noodles), potatoes, papri puris (little wheat crackers), along with tomato and onion. Chutney is usually added to the mix: I consider the dark sweet kind, composed of dates and tamarind, to be about on level with crack. I put it on everything. Mumbai is reputed to be the ancestral home of bhel puri and I'd believe it. I ate a lot of bhel puri in Bangalore: I must admit, the simple version dished up from Juice Junction was the best. I have many happy memories of spending my lunch break balancing a plate of bhel puri on one knee and a fruit salad on the other, watching the little punks from the Bishop Cotton boys school across the street order up an after school snack: good times.

Pani puri is also delish and everywhere, composed of puffed fried dough filled with a watery broth of tamarind, chili, and potato. These little suckers are pretty much impossible to miss and usually sold by the piece: a nice way to cool down on a hot day. Try extra hard to avoid the super sketchy stalls with these as there are occasional unfortunate issues with nasty water. Occasional. It's best to eat these in one gulp as there could be spillage. You don't want spillage.


A delicious, delicious bowl of dahi papri. Scuse' me while I lick the screen.

If you're in a dairy sort of mood, it's hard to beat dahi puri, which consists of tangy Indian yogurt seved over crunchy puri rounds, mixed with chutney, sev, and god knows what else. Dahi papri is also delicious, featuring fried wheat crackers broken up into chunks and served with the same delicious yogurt topping. It's sort of like Indian nachos with cheese sauce. Only not really. (The person who successfully markets nachos in India will become incredibly wealthy. I am considering it.)

Pav bhaji is another Mumbai speciality, composed of super-tasty buttery buns (the pav) and a spicy potato and vegetable based curry (the bhaji.) Prepared in giant pans on the street most everywhere in Mumbai, it's a tasty and carbohydrate rich former factory-workers lunch that has earned the love of the Indian populace. I'm trying to learn how to make it at home.


A few of Chowpatty's food stalls.

Any mention of chaat would be remiss without bringing up Chowpatty Beach, Mumbai's near-legendary snack food capital. The beach itself is attractive enough and even moderately clean these days, but the real attraction is the food sellers, who shill just about everything from suprisingly elaborate stalls, working out of an authorized area. It wasn't always like this: selling food on the beach used to be illegal. As my friend Aneesa remembers: "You'd be buying a juice or something and in the middle of making it, someone would spot the cops and they'd just all run away and leave you standing there...it was really quite funny."



Chowpatty Beach is all legal now and the hilarity factor has diminished, but the food is still there: bhel puri and pav bhaji are particular specialities, along with milkshakes, ices, kulfi, and falooda, a kind of Persian ice cream parfait. If you want to get all fancy, you can even sit down on plastic chairs. It is now unlikely your juice seller will run away in the midst of making your drink. Sigh.


Here's some pav bhaji - or rather bhaji bit - waiting to be served up on Chowpatty. The bhaji is prepared beforehand in big, impressive rings.

Chaat is one of India's many unexpected and delightful treats: you must not miss it when you visit. It's almost everywhere and seems to be the nations secondary real-people cuisine. Also, it tastes unspeakably good. You cannot possibly lose.