The soul of traditional Khmer cuisine resides in a barrel of pungent fermented fish paste whose signature aroma is loved by most Cambodians as much as it is loathed by most foreigners. Prahok, a concoction of crushed and salted fish left to ferment until it acquires its potent distinction, is a versatile condiment served with nearly every meal.

Produced each year between December and March when thousands of trey riel, a type of small mud carp, swarm into Cambodia’s rivers, prahok originated as a way of preserving fish for the leaner months in villages where even today refrigeration is uncommon.

But its production cycle – involving murky water, rotting fish mash and crude processing techniques – leaves a whole lot that can go wrong. And given prahok’s odiferous qualities, telling the difference between a good batch and one that has “gone off” can prove challenging.

To protect consumers – and to open the door for exports – the government has drawn up the first-ever industry standard for Cambodian prahok producers. The new standard, introduced in September, defines the characteristics of traditional prahok, including its accepted colour, odour and preparation process, while setting limits on chemical additives and pathogen counts. Samples of the product must be analysed in licensed laboratories before receiving certification...

hanno wrote:

Babble wrote:I love the taste, but those pictures make me vomit and I will struggle too eat again until that vision has left my brain.

I hate the stuff and just this week I found a jar in my fridge