Cambodian Manna

I knew that I liked food. But I didn’t know that I liked it this much. The events of this morning confirm that I am in fact crazy about food and will, in this case, do anything for a round piece of sesame bread.

So let’s dispel any notions that sesame bread is bland and somehow unworthy of being the object of my morning's madness. Sesame bread, in Cambodia, is one of the most delicious foods I have tasted. Admittedly, I’m not sesame’s biggest fan, but this bread is heavenly. It’s round and hollow like a beignet but with sweetened sesame seeds on top. It’s more doughy than flaky, more thick than thin. I have only had it twice, so imagine how bad my cravings must have been as I embarked on my pilgrimage to the market this morning to track it down for breakfast.

I love the market here. It’s busy, alive, and overflowing with fresh fruits, vegetables, and breads. It’s chaotic and smelly and best of all, I get to ride my bike around and put all my purchases in my little bike basket. If knowing that it’s finally Friday wasn’t enough to make me get out of bed this morning, then the promise of riding my bike to purchase sesame bread surely was. Let’s just say that I was excited and may or may not have been singing to myself in the bathroom this morning. I’m telling you, this bread makes me go crazy.

So I get to the market, park my bike near a curb, and begin my search. Now, I have never bought this bread for myself before. It always seems to just appear in front of me. Once I had it at a restaurant where it was the complimentary bread; another time my boss, Som, bought it for us on her morning walk. That’s another reason why the bread is heavenly – it just appears out of thin air, not that different from Manna. Thus, knowing that this bread is rather elusive, I’m on my A game. My eyes are peeled and my money is out. My stomach is growling and ready to pounce on that sweet baked goodness when I spot it.

Imagine my slight confusion when the bread is nowhere to be found. There is French bread, garlic bread, rolls, and buns…but nothing resembling my manna. I walk nervously back and forth, up and down all the stalls of the market. Nothing. I walk to a fruit stand where I know the vendor speaks decent English. I describe my bread, curving my hands into a round shape and pretending to take a bite. I was on a mission, and words were not enough. I needed hand motions. She understands me, laughs, and points down the street to the gas station. I thank her, hop on my bike, and already feel better knowing that the bread exists…just not in the market.

Dodging all the motos and chickens and ox carts was difficult in the morning traffic, but I swear I was more confident on that bike, knowing that bread was soon to be bought. I ride down to the gas station with a smile on my face. I pull up, but there are no vendors. In fact, there is no food anywhere. Not even a restaurant. My confusion turns to frustration as I begin to realize that this bread hunt is turning into just that…a hunt. It is no longer a lazy morning stroll through the market, it is a full on scramble to FIND THAT BREAD before I have to head to work.

I ride down to the bank. Nothing. I pop into a café. Even more nothing. I talk to a few people on the street, relying on my hand motions again. No one knows where to find it. At this point, I say a desperate prayer to the God of Manna that this bread will begin to rain from above and fill the streets with its sweetness. When my prayer goes unanswered (because that is definitely how God works), I start to get mad, thinking that this town is full of a bunch of nothing! If there is no sesame bread, then why is the world even still spinning!? These thoughts, among others that are more colorful, go through my head as I imagine heading to work breadless and breakfast-less.

I resolve to end the search, after one last hurrah. I head back to the hotel, recalling that I have seen sesame bread on their menu before. I walk in, head straight to the waitress that speaks the best English, and, as politely as I can muster, order sesame bread. She nods and takes my money. I wait.

A dreadfully long time later, she returns with a to-go bag. A rush of relief washes over me, until I realize that my sesame bread has been taken captive by a loaf of French bread! What? Where did it go? I don’t want French bread! I want sesame bread! This must be some kind of mistake! After getting yet another confused look as to why this other bread simply won’t do, I call it a day and ask for my money back. I sulk out of the hotel to head to work, thinking that the world is just not a good place this morning.

I walk into work with a look of defeat on my face. And in this case, defeat could be acting as a synonym for rage (Ask Brekke what I said when she asked if I found my bread. It was a touchy subject, okay? It was just too soon). I walk down to my friend Nith’s office to vent about the bread, seeing as how he was the one that told me I could find it at the market. After telling me that I had actually been looking on the wrong side of the market, God enters his body and speaks to me directly: “I’ll send a driver to get it for you. One piece or two?” The world becomes a better place in that moment, as I jump up and down screaming “Two! Two!”

As the God of the Old Testament says, referring to manna, “… in the morning you shall be filled with bread; then you shall know that I am The Lord your God” (Exodus 16:12). I guess it is only appropriate that, try as I may, I couldn’t provide the bread for myself.