Inside the lively, bustling Phnom Penh Noodle House dining room, Diane Le gestures for me to sit down at the table where her husband, Vinh, and their young twin sons are waiting. Dianeâs older sister and co-manager of Phnom Penh, Dawn Ung, continues running the restaurant as we eat, as she has done in the years since her father and founder of Phnom Penh, Sam Ung, retired and moved back to Cambodia.
I inhale the scent of something delicious, and my attention snaps back to the table because the first appetizer is here: Phnom Penh's signature chicken wings, glazed in honey-garlic sauce, sprinkled in green onions and jalapeño, and topped off by a dusting of black pepper. Oh, and they are goodâsimultaneously crunchy and tender, sweet with a light zing, flavorful but not over-spiced.
In between bites and family conversation, a Cambodian-American oral history of this family and their restaurant rises above the aromas of home-style cooking. It fills the room with a different kind of warmth and I swiftly realize that I have not just been invited to a meal, but to a family dinner. And at family dinners, you talk about everythingâthe good and bad.
âItâs sad to be closing this door,â said Le of the restaurantâs impending close on May 28. âBut it will allow us time to focus on the family [Dawnâs son, Devin Cropp, was hit by a car in September of last year and experienced significant brain damage, among other severe injuries to his neck, back, and spinal cord]. Itâs sad because youâre closing this chapter, but should we really be closing this chapter? Will another door ever open? Will we see our family members that visit us every weekend again? Weâll definitely miss all those interactions. Itâs bittersweet.â
Phnom Penhâs family of customers and community supporters began with one man, and Le relates stories about her father, Sam Ung.
âMy dad built the business with the lens of always giving back to the community,â she continues. âHe was very humble, but he knew that his success did not come about on his own. He had the support of so many to make it happen, so as a business owner and operator in the community, he was always doing whatever he could to give back whenever he could. Volunteering his time, donating or leading cooking classes, helping out with the [Wing Luke] museum⊠he did whatever he couldâŠ. we hope to be remembered as a friend, a family member who gave themselves to what they loved.â
Le tells me how Ung immigrated to the States from Cambodia in 1980, fleeing the Khmer Rouge. Ungâs dream was to have his own restaurant (his parents had one in Cambodia), and so he started working, juggling two jobs (Ivarâs Acres of Clams and the Rainier Club) for seven years before opening Phnom Penh in 1987 with then-wife Kim and his two daughters.
âMy dad used to always say, 'You girls always complain about working here, but you donât realize that you are learning life-long skills,'â said Diane. âAnd of course you donât realize anything that your parents teach you until youâre an adult, and thatâs true. Now that I am a mother, I donât know how they did it. How did we go on vacations every year? It is truly amazing, it is a story about refugees coming to the States and trying to make that American dream happen, and he did it, and heâs tired, and now he is back in Cambodia.â
The inside of Phnom Penh is a mix of cultures, lineages, and histories. In the same restaurant adorned with traditional and contemporary Cambodian art lies a unique wall that was Ungâs pride and joyâa collection of photographs and news stories about the various celebrities and people of renown that have visited the restaurant.
âHe is SO proud of that wall! It is pretty amazing,â said Le. âAt the Rainier Club, he cooked for Al Gore and Bill Clinton, and here he had the celebrity wall with the picture frames of everyone who has come by.â
However, Ung was not satisfied with only having a wall: âHe made a shirt out of it!â Said Le. âHe used to wear [the shirts] as a part of his uniform at the restaurant, it was so funny!â
Le searches through a box for the t-shirt while retrieving some of the numerous possessions that have been collected over the years at Phnom Penh: menus, cards, pictures. For the woman who grew up in the International District and helped run an iconic Cambodian family restaurant for over 30 years, this feels like leaving home.
âIt was our neighborhood,â said Le. âWe were just little girls running around and growing up in Chinatown. For a while, my grandmother lived in the Bush Hotel, my other grandmother lived in the other apartment buildingâit wasnât just businesses, it was truly a neighborhood with residents.â
However, there may soon be a time where Phnom Penh is a part of the neighborhood again: âIf and when our next idea comes up for the future of Phnom Penh,â said Le, âwe will look around at Kickstarter or a fundraiser that gets our fans engaged again. We hope it will be just a âsee-you later,â but there are so many things that we need to work on in order for it to happen. We are definitely trying, but if all the puzzles work together, then we wonât be gone for too long. We want to stay true to what my dad started with the core seven [dishes from when the restaurant first opened], but then also add a twist to our generation, of what it is like to eat out and bring in the new Cambodian experience.â
Normal Phnom Penh hours are 9 am - 8 pm (closed Wednesdays). Phnom Penh's dining room opens for the last time on May 28. Its closing celebration happens later that evening, from 4 to 7 pm.