Everybody, meet my friends, The Pestle and Mortar

I grew up without a blender and food processor. Those items were just props on Full House in the endless hours of time I spent watching Uncle Joey cook. The pestle and mortar, on the other hand, was my kind of normal and I was shocked to find out that a lot of households didn’t even own one. Of course, I grew up, learned the ins and outs of the kitchen and realized I was the weird one with a batch of stones as normal cookware.

When I thought the grass was greener on the more technological advanced side of things, I put down the pestle and mortar for a shiny new blender and processor in hopes of getting with the program. Little did I realize, nothing could ever replace the magic of my former sous chefs. Maybe it was how finely the pestle hit the mortar in its goal of finely combining the spices for the soup, or how perfectly the two were able to mince together the perfect consistency of fishball but nothing can compare to how much the quality of my meals increased because of the duo.

The picture boasts a shelf full of mortars and pestles at a market. My grandma currently uses a pretty sturdy stone one. The same one she’s had for nearly 30 years since coming to America. I realize that this will be the same one passed down to me when times permits. No matter what new gizmo and gadget comes out in the future, it can’t compete against it’s ancient and jaded predecessor.

And this little piggy went to the market

If it’s one thing I hate more than trying to find parking in a crowded Asian market, it’s the idea of shopping in one. Let’s face it, I had my fair share of elbows pushed to my sides, rude service, and lets not forget the odor of miles and miles of fresh fish. The markets around my house are usually concentrated with produce from the northern Asian countries so finding actual Cambodian ingredients is quite the struggle.

So what do we do in dire times as these? With the help of cultural enclaves, my grandma insists on going to every Cambodian’s home away from home: Long Beach.

There are a few markets that my grandma prefers to shop at while in Long Beach, each specializing in their own imports and goods.

On this day, she decides to go to “Kon Heng” supermarket, also methodically called KH Supermarket.

What usually makes a Cambodian market unique is the plethora of food, ingredients, and items that you wouldn’t find elsewhere.

A medley of nameless vegetables (The shoppers here know what they want).

Miles and miles of fish

Fresh Butchers meat

...And more fish!

...And fish heads!

Delicious cookies and treats in flavors you didn't even knew existed.

We don’t come down here much, so when we do, it’s a Costco field day. My grandma usually stalks down every aisle clearing the shelves of her homeland goods hungrily grabbing from the deli section as well.

At the end of her market sprees, my grandma is usually short on her bill by a five or so dollars but today, she under calculated a thirty dollar excess. Of course my broke college self has to pay for it, but the cost of making my grandma happy is priceless.