All the best holidays involve food, am
I right? If it's an occasion worth remembering, it's worth communing with
others around a pile of goodies. Feasting together can trigger deeply
treasured memories from holidays past. Special occasions demand special
meals.
I
believe the above paragraph generally transcends cultures. But what foods are worthy of immortalizing in
time-honored holiday traditions? Ah, that's where the answers splinter into a
kaleidoscope of flavors. Indulging in Thanksgiving pie the past five days, I've
pondered US and Cambodian holidays and the treats that encapsulate them.
The holiday
Cambodia's Pchum Ben holiday is similar to Mexico's Day of the Dead and the Taoist Ghost Festival. It is said that the dead are released from hell for 15 days in the form of hungry ghosts. It's the job of the living to give food and money to various pagodas, satiating the ghosts' hunger and earning merit so their ancestors can graduate from hell to better afterlives. Nowadays, many people are skeptical that their ancestors roam around craving snacks, but they still gather with relatives - often in their family's home village - to share food with each other and with monks at the pagoda.
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| My neighbor and her friends donated food to a pagoda in October (not for Pchum Ben) |
Pchum Ben is similar to American Thanksgiving in that tons of people travel to visit family. For many Cambodians in the city, it's one of two trips home per year. Another parallel is that it's a national holiday, strongly tied to cultural identity, albeit with parallel versions in some neighboring countries. Both holidays have deep historical roots: pilgrims and other settlers in the early 1600s gave thanks through feasts with locals before America was a country, and Pchum Ben probably dates back to around 800 AD.
For both holidays, the religious component is optional. While Pchum Ben has Buddhist and animist roots, other Cambodians also celebrate it minus the pagoda visits, just like Americans of any religious persuasion can chow down on turkey without the pilgrims' desire to thank the God of the Bible. It's worth noting, though, that their religious purposes are nearly opposite: Pchum Ben is all about earning merit to advance your family's spiritual standing, while Thanksgiving celebrates God's grace in giving us good things that we have not earned.
The food and its history
Cambodia - num ansom, num kom
Num is a category of snack food that typically contains rice or flour. Num ansom is boiled and has a fairly mild savory or sweet flavor (depending on the filling), while num kom is steamed with an intensely sweet filling. Unlike other types of num, sold year-round at markets and snack carts, these two are eaten mainly during Pchum Ben and Cambodian New Year. Documents from around 1200 indicate that num ansom represents the Hindu Lord Shiva, while num kom symbolizes his wife Uma, so they were always offered together in religious ceremonies as a symbol of... ahem... unity. That means this pair of treats has been a standard for at least 800 years. Num kom are eaten plain after steaming, whereas you can pan-fry or grill num ansom after boiling them, and the savory ones can be spiced up with sauces. But they're also tasty plain.
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| Num ansom filled with pork and beans: my landlords give them to tenants every year |
US - pecan pie
Was pecan pie present 4 centuries ago at the first Thanksgiving? Not a chance. Pecans don't grow in New England, and the pilgrims didn't even have proper ovens, let alone enjoy sweet pies. They would have been more likely to fill any pastries with meat.
In its defense, reading up on its history, I realized pecan (unlike apple) pie is truly American. The nuts are native to North America, and were cultivated by Native Americans. The first pecan pies recipes came from Texas around 1900. It became popular in the 1920s when advertised on the Karo syrup cans, around the time that sweet pie varieties were rapidly proliferating. It's not as classic as pumpkin or apple for Thanksgiving (pies I've often made before), but it's also not uncommon. You can add whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, but it's plenty rich without them.
Ingredients (in descending order of volume)
Cambodia - num
Ansom (outside) - glutinous rice, coconut milk, black beans, salt
Ansom (filling) - pork and yellow mung beans for savory, or small bananas and palm sugar for sweet
Kom (outside) - glutinous rice flour, water
Kom (filling) - grated coconut, palm sugar, black sesame seeds
Wrapping of both: banana leaves, banana strings
Comments: All of these are fresh, simple, and close to their natural state. Many present-day Cambodians are subsistence rice farmers who'd have most of these ingredients growing on their land.
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| The num kom filling was already cooked over charcoal when we arrived |
US - Pecan pie
Crust - flour, margarine, shortening, kosher salt, sugar, ice water
Filling - pecans, sugar, corn syrup, eggs, margarine, vanilla, salt
Comments: You'll notice this is anything but a health food. I added extra pecans, but there was originally almost a 2:1 ratio of sugar/corn syrup to pecans, not to mention the fat content. I subbed in margarine for butter because my mom is lactose intolerant. But that, shortening, and corn syrup are noteworthy as highly processed 20th-century ingredients that now compete with classics like butter, lard, sugar, and honey. Kosher salt probably wasn't on the pilgrims' menu either. My family's not trendy enough for healthier 21st-century substitutions, but apparently raw vegan chia seed pecan pie is now a thing.
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| The pilgrims were grateful when the Native Americans introduced them to Crisco at their local supermarkets |
For Pchum Ben, I went along with maybe 12 others from my Khmer church to visit someone's parents, an hour from Phnom Penh. I was surprised to hear that many of them had never made these classic num before, even though they'd eaten them their whole lives. We all looked forward to observing the process. But observing is about all that we did, even the three visitors who, like the hostess, already have grown children. We watched her plunge her hands into large basins of water to stir the beans and rice that had soaked all night. We watched her layer filling on rice on vivid green banana leaves, then deftly roll them into cylinders for num ansom. We watched her neatly fold the smaller banana leaves into perfect pyramids around the num kom.
In the 4-hour assembly process, we were allowed to help with just one step in the num ansom: tying the string around the banana leaves wrapping it. For num kom, we were more actively involved forming balls of filling, mixing the flour and hot water for the outside, and folding the banana leaves into pyramids. All of these efforts required her frequent input and supervision. Only she could say when the dough was the perfect consistency. She eventually turned us loose tying up the num ansom but that was a mistake: half of them were too loose, allowing water to seep in and ruin them while boiling. And nobody got the hang of folding up the num kom, even when I took a brief video for us to watch over and over. Whenever someone tried, everyone else would look at it and say, "Nope, that's not right."
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| Is the dough sticky enough? Not yet! |
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| We were so proud of ourselves for tying these - not easy with the brittle string! |
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| Num kom ready to eat |
Making pecan pie is another story. My mom's Betty Crocker cookbook has 8 brief sentences covering all the steps. The last two are "Cool slightly. Serve warm or refrigerate." The previous ones are almost that easy and involve zero guesswork. But if you still feel intimidated, you could watch dozens of videos illustrating the process in as little as 1.5 minutes. The entire pie takes less than 2 hours, mostly waiting for the crust to chill or for the pie to bake. While you can expand it as much as you want, the original recipe makes one pie serving about six people. My family likes to make just one pie of each flavor so we have plenty of variety.
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| Mmm, leftover pie! |
Values
In the US, we celebrate innovation. My search for "pecan pie" showed tons of twists. Our food is more traditional at Thanksgiving than perhaps any other time of year, and even then the newspapers and Internet are bursting with variations to spice up your stuffing or personalize your pies. We're also huge fans of easy, from pre-made crusts to canned filling to pre-ground spices to plain old store-bought pies. The pilgrims' first dinner has become a buttery behemoth, and I wonder what resemblance there will be between my grandparents' Thanksgiving dinners and my grandchildren's as people continue seeking and redefining "progress."
In Cambodia, broadly speaking, they celebrate conservation. Nearly every family makes the same two snacks (and maybe a few others) every Pchum Ben, as their ancestors have done for nearly a millennium. They use low-tech methods and unprocessed ingredients for treats that are delicious and not that bad for you. I'm no food historian, but to me it seems they've done a remarkable job of preserving this tradition, painstakingly recreating these num with excellence.
I was a bit concerned when I realized that none of my fellow visitors knew how to make them, though. I've heard about traditional knowledge and abilities dying out when Grandma never passes on her secrets to future generations. A Cambodian neighbor in her 30's asked me recently to show her how to bake bread, and in return I asked if she could let me watch next time she makes num. "Oh, I never make any - they're too much work." She prefers making Khmer puddings, bang aim.
Num and pie are beloved holiday treats, and as long as there are people needing money, I think there will be people making both. But I wonder how long it will take before they become like croissants, something ordinary folks leave to the professionals. I'd hate to see that happen. Whether num or pie, whether a tradition that stems back 100 years or 1000, whether using purist or pragmatic methods, I find joy in creating and savoring time-honored treats.
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