It's a Pineapple in Cambodia

I went to Cambodia in 1997. In those days you could only fly into Phnom Penn and then exit via their only land border crossing into Vietnam. The trains were prohibited to foreigners but the first three carriages were free to locals as explosives were often placed along the tracks by the Khmer Rouge. So if your economic status was such that you couldn't afford a ticket, you got to be the mine sweeper. It was my first experience of abject poverty - entire families living on a mound of rubbish. I gave money to a beggar in the Russian market and was surrounded in seconds by twenty other beggars, all obvious victims of land mines and missing legs or arms or horrifically disfigured from burns. It was completely overwhelming and very humbling.






I had of course promised my Mum and Dad that I wouldn't go to Cambodia. But when I made that promise I hadn't met the guy who wrote the Lonely Planet Guide to Cambodia and said that I had to see the temples of Angkor Wat. He was so convincing and they are incredible, I was extremely lucky to see them when there was only a handful of tourists at each site. So I rang my best friend Nat and told her I was going and then told her if I hadn't got in contact with her by three weeks to ring the embassy and Mum and Dad. She told me later, understandably, never to do that to her again.

I was so naive. In my guidebook it said that there was a place called Bertie Books with a great selection of books to exchange. I was in need of a new read, so I headed there. When I got there the sign said, "Room with fan, - one hour, five dollars," "Room with fan - eight hours, eight dollars," "Room with fan - twenty four hours, twelve dollars." In a moment of genius, I thought, I'll save some money here - I'll just tell them I only used the fan for one hour. It wasn't until the guy behind the counter did the universal hip thrusting movement for copulation that I twigged - oh, okay, got you, this is a brothel as well as a bookshop (that didn't actually have any books either.)

I had met a couple of German guys in the market and had arranged to go and play cards with them that night. We went for a walk around their hostel when a red sight light (you know the red dot in the movies that means a sniper is going to take you out) rested on us. I didn't even notice, the German guy, Goran, who had just been telling me how he wanted to open up a bar in Ghana saw the light and just screamed "Run." We sprinted down around the corner, and stopped when we heard two little boys convulsing with laughter. They probably did it to every tourist in town. I couldn't help but think that if my brother had been Cambodian he would have been doing exactly the same thing! I did get a postcard from Goran a couple of years later, sent from Ghana - he did open his bar.

It was the next day while walking that a rickshaw stopped and asked me if I needed a ride. I really didn't, but a taxi driver told me that his life had improved so much since driving a car. Before when he was motorbike taxi, no girls were interested. He said the rickshaw drivers didn't stand a chance of getting a girlfriend. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I made a promise to myself that in the name of love I would only use rickshaws wherever possible. It was a rickshaw driver who stopped at a small stand on the side of the road where they sold pineapple - freshly cut pineapple with chili, salt, sugar and lime juice. It was simple, delicious and perfect.

Here's a relish that is very similar, except the pineapple is cooked. It's delicious with roasted meats or ham. And it will keep for three to four days in the refrigerator.

Pineapple Relish

2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger
2 cloves of garlic roughly chopped
2 red chilies medium hot, deseeded and finely chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 pineapple
1 lime, juiced

Heat only tablespoon of peanut oil and fry the ginger and garlic until they are golden brown.

Transfer them to a mortar and pestle, grind the ginger, garlic, salt, sugar and chili to a fine paste.




Skin the pineapple and cut into quarter length ways, making sure you remove the hard central core. Then cut into slices.

Heat the remaining oil and fry the pineapple on each side until golden.


Drain on paper towel, then chop into small pieces and place in a bowl where you can mix in the garlic/chili mixture and the lime juice.



Check your seasoning, adjust with sea salt and a good grind of freshly cracked black pepper. It should have a balance of hot, sweet, salty and sour.