There's a Red House Over Yonder

I’m not sure yet, but this could be the first in a series of Phnom Penh dining establishments that we: frequent; have long wanted to try; or have some particular interest in.

At the corner of our fairly quiet residential block there’s a Singaporean restaurant called the Red House. As the name suggests it is literally a red house, though more of a maroon or blood red than bright red. On the bright yellow and blue neon sign at its exterior it says that it’s known for seafood. Every night, it is absolutely packed. There are cars (mostly Lexus, Mercedes, or Toyota Landcruisers, often with “state”, “police”, or “Royal Cambodian Armed Forces” license plates) lining every block in every direction. From our terrace, we can see the commotion as the parking attendants try in vain to assist the restaurant’s patrons with parallel parking. Traffic often backs up in all directions for a few blocks.

Every time we notice how busy Red House is, we remark that we should eat there. We’ve even spoken to the other barang (foreigners) on the block about how we should organize a group outing to the popular spot. As of a week ago, however, the expedition still had not happened.

And then along comes Chapman, one of Shanti’s friends and high school teachers. He was a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer to the layman) in Nepal and after returning to his Nepali village for the first time in over twenty years, made a trip through Phnom Penh to see Shanti. Convinced that he had to take us out to dinner (even though he stayed at a guesthouse a few blocks away and not in our guest room), he suggested a meal at the popular Red House restaurant.

On Wednesday, after work and after a delightful hour-long massage, we made our way over to the mysterious Red House. The parking attendants – I hesitate to call them valets because they don’t actually park cars, just assist the owners in parking – smiled as we entered the glass double doors. To our right were a variety of aquariums and bins filled with water and various creatures from the sea (i.e. dinner). We immediately got the sense that this was not a place that foreigners frequent; the bright and open restaurant, though not packed, was busy with well-dressed Asian businessmen, families, and government officials. Needless to say we felt a bit out of place in our cargo shorts and t-shirts.

We sat down and were immediately brought a wooden bowl of roasted, salted peanuts (an appetizer perfected by Cambodia). After ordering a few beers, we took a look at the extensive menu. The specialties were clearly seafood and we were shocked to see the prices of the fare. Although all dishes had three sizes – small, medium, and large – the cheapest item on the menu was about $6, usually enough for a nice two-person meal or several meals off the street. Lucky for us, Chapman was treating.

With beer in hand, we settled on a medium order of garlic and chili prawns and a medium order of BBQ Guinness spare ribs. When the food came, we were surprised at how small the portions looked, especially for the cost. However, everything was spicy and delicious and more filling that expected. I’m not sure we would go back though, especially since the meal cost what Shanti and I usually spend on a week’s worth of food. Red House clearly caters to a more upscale local crowd. That said, we broke the mystery of the Red House over yonder.