Neal refers to a cake-making tool called NomNeal (Neal Cake). In some parts of Cambodia, this cake is an annual tradition associated with the ascension (Neak Ta) of the villagers near the Sambor Prei Kuk temple complex in Kampong Thom province. Every month, the locals prepare to make offerings to their Neak Ta, which is associated with the entire archeological site. There are two Neak Ta who are closely related to each other, the "gatekeeper or Neak Ta Tvear" and another one is “Neak Ta” who looks over the entire temples’ complex. In every house, the locals make cakes to donate for any ritual ceremonies.\n To make this cake, they need to mix white rice with some sticky rice and pound it together until it turns into powder. Then add a little bit of sugar and salt to make it taste salty and sweet. Before they start cooking, they boil water in a clay pot and put a coconut shell with a hole on the bottom on top of it. They put the rice flour around the edge of the clay pot so that no steam can come out of the mouth of the pot. They take two long banana leaves and put them on the bottom of the pot before pouring the flour into it. For this powder, they mix them with water to make it sticks together and becomes a paste and then cover it with two or three banana leaves before putting the lid on the pot and pressing it on for about 5 to 10 minutes. When the cake is ready, they remove the cover and touch the leaves. Peel a squash, grate it and squeeze the cake out of the Neal.\n

In the rugged landscapes of Timor-Leste, where dry seasons can stretch long and food insecurity remains a reality for many, the people have long relied on their deep knowledge of wild, resilient crops. Among them is Koto-Tisi—a hard, dark wild bean that offers vital sustenance but must be carefully prepared to remove its natural toxins. What might appear at first glance to be just another seed is, in fact, a symbol of survival, ecological wisdom, and ancestral resilience.\n\nThe bean is typically found growing on hardy, thorny shrubs or climbing vines in semi-wild areas. It is gathered primarily by women, who know when the pods are ready to be picked and how to handle them safely. The challenge lies not in harvesting but in transforming Koto-Tisi into something edible—an intricate cooking process that has been passed down through generations.\n\nPreparation begins with repeated boiling and rinsing, sometimes up to five or six times. Each round helps to leach out the toxic compounds present in the bean. The water must be discarded each time, and the beans carefully watched to ensure that they soften without disintegrating. After boiling, the beans are often sun-dried and stored for later use, to be boiled again before eating or ground into a starchy paste.\n\nThe process is labor-intensive and demands both patience and precision. Elders in the community emphasize that the knowledge of how to process Koto-Tisi is not written in books—it lives in memory, movement, and the rhythms of daily life. To rush the process or ignore the sequence could lead to poisoning. For this reason, children are taught to observe closely, assisting their mothers or grandmothers and gradually learning the delicate balance between danger and nourishment.\n\nIn times of drought, scarcity, or natural disaster, Koto-Tisi becomes a lifeline. Its ability to grow in harsh conditions, with little water or care, makes it a dependable fallback when cultivated crops fail. But it is more than a survival food—it is also a testament to how culture and ecology intertwine. The knowledge required to use it safely reflects a deep respect for the land, a skillset honed through centuries of careful experimentation and oral transmission.\n\nToday, as dietary patterns change and imported food becomes more available, the practice of preparing Koto-Tisi is fading in some areas. But in others, it remains a respected tradition—especially among elders who see it not only as food but as a story, a ritual, and a reminder of community strength in the face of adversity.

Chewing bua-malus—a combination of areca nut (bua) and betel pepper leaf (malus)—is a widespread and deeply symbolic cultural practice throughout Timor-Leste. While it is often seen as a daily habit, its role goes far beyond oral tradition and personal enjoyment. Bua-malus is inseparable from the fabric of Timorese life, marking every major social, spiritual, and ceremonial moment with its presence.\n\nAt its simplest, the practice involves chewing pieces of areca nut wrapped in a fresh green betel leaf, often accompanied by a pinch of slaked lime (ahu) to release the active compounds and deepen the flavor. The mixture produces a distinctive red juice and is known for its mildly stimulating effects. But in cultural terms, bua-malus acts as a form of communication—an offering, a blessing, a welcome, and a bridge between generations.\n\nIn marriage ceremonies (barlake), bua-malus plays a key ritual role in exchanges between families. During funerals, it may be offered to the deceased or distributed among mourners as a sign of shared respect and continuity. When sacred houses (uma lulik) are built or restored, or when a newborn baby undergoes a fase-matan (eye-opening) ritual, elders may gently rub a paste of bua-malus onto the baby’s eyelids and forehead to protect them and spiritually anchor their life.\n\nElders and ritual leaders (lia-nain) often carry small pouches filled with the ingredients and use them to open or conclude negotiations, calm disputes, or honor guests. Offering bua-malus is a profound gesture of hospitality and peace—it signals trust, respect, and the intention to share one’s truth openly. Refusing it, in some contexts, may even be considered a subtle social offense.\n\nThe act of chewing is often done communally, accompanied by conversation, storytelling, or silence. The red-stained lips and relaxed posture of those gathered in a shaded courtyard or under a tree reflect a rhythm of life tied to land, time, and relationship. Many communities regard bua-malus not just as a habit but as a living heritage—something that must be handed down with care and intention.\n\nDespite its enduring presence, the practice is evolving. Urbanization, health concerns, and shifting social norms have altered how and where people chew bua-malus. Younger generations may engage with it more selectively, and some of the ritual meanings risk being diluted or forgotten.\n\nNonetheless, the cultural power of bua-malus remains strong. Whether offered to welcome a guest, seal an agreement, or bless a new life, this humble bundle of nut, leaf, and lime carries the weight of centuries of wisdom. It connects people not only to each other but to their ancestors, their land, and the values that continue to guide communal life in Timor-Leste.

Nom Banhchok, a type of locally made rice noodle, is a very popular food that can be found all over Cambodia. The noodle can be served with different kinds of sauces or soup, from a simple mix of salt and chilly or a mix of fermented fish paste and chilly and herbs to the red curry, or the most popular one, the samlor proheur or also known samlor Khmer (fish lemongrass soup). The last is generally served with fresh vegetables including cucumbers, long beans, bean sprouts, banana flowers, water lily stems, and so on. Although popular, it is not a staple food like cooked rice. It is eaten once in a while or on a special festival with a large gathering of people.