Anyone craving for a tasty burger (like me) in the Penh is most likely going to end up at Mike’s Burger House along Russian Boulevard. I’ve been hearing about it since forever but, despite living in the same district, I haven’t been there yet.
The other week, by a stroke of pure coincidence, my friend and I found ourselves in close proximity with the burger house so we agreed to have a quick lunch there. We didn’t get there as fast as we wished because of the barriers; so we circled around the block to get on the correct lane only to find ourselves pulled over by a traffic police for apparently violating the no entry (or was it a one-way street) sign. My friend and I were sure that no such sign was visible but mister police officer insisted there was one there… where? There, pointing with his mouth. Needless to say, an amount was paid as per mister police’s advise in return for letting us get off the hook and avoid the annoying bureaucracy in reclaiming the license. Luckily, my friend didn’t carry a lot of cash in her wallet but I still felt awful and sorry for her who had to experience this for the first time and with me. I asked myself how could I, a four-eyed person, have missed the sign. Except when there was really no sign in sight in the first place. Now, I have to admit that encounters with uniformed men scare me to death. This stemmed from a previous encounter for a similar offence with an aggressive officer who emptied my husband’s wallet himself. That officer had the gall to fish out the money from the wallet and dropped it on my husband’s lap like it was a hot potato. Merde!
Some fun we had, eh? All in the name of burger!
After a few moments of regaining our composure and some nervous giggles, we giggled some more at the sign that greeted us at the doorstep:
I’m no expert when it comes to food but I love food and I love my burger. I ordered a sloppy joe and it was oh-so-glorious. Definitely a love at first bite. The chili con carne that was smothered all over the patty made it messy to eat but all those goodies made for a tasty, finger-lickin’ meal! Little stuff like the gherkin and mustard spelled all the difference to me, too.
Hopefully next time I’ll have the guts to order the 12-inch crazy burger. Imagine two patties, two fried eggs, two slices of cheese, bacon, lettuce, and a host of other components of a regular burger. Who’s coming with me?