The answer to Cambodian cravings

Let the lovers of that stinky, gray, gloppy fish paste called prahok rejoice. Boston (well, Allston) has a new Cambodian restaurant, and it's not afraid to use this odorous but tasty Cambodian foodstuff that all adventurous eaters should try.

But those looking for more familiar flavors need not shy away, Suvarnabhumi Kiri also offers an epic selection of sushi and Thai in a pretty space with a reasonable beer, wine, and sake list. It's enough to make my heart race.

Until now, if you craved inexpensive, authentic Cambodian cooking (and you should), you had to make the trek to Lowell, Lynn, or Revere. There you'll find scruffy little storefronts that cook the best local versions of this fabulously herby, bright, flavorful cuisine.

Those mom-and-pop joints are worth the trip, but they keep odd hours and don't serve alcohol. So the prospect of cutting the commute, eating after dark, and washing down a yummy plate of caramelized beef loc lac with a nice, cool Singha Light, well, that's a good thing.

When we settled into the spacious dining room dotted with dark, glossy tables, we flipped past the Thai and sushi pages and headed to the back of the menu. There we found about two dozen Cambodian choices, and it turns out there's more to come: Later this month, the Khmer section of the menu is going to grow.

We went straight for the prahok. Like the addictive fish sauce used in Thai and Vietnamese cuisine, only more intense, this fermented fish is used as a seasoning in Cambodia. Think of it as going from a standard brie cheese to a superbly stinky Camembert de Normandie.

The paste was in its full glory in the prahok katee ($12.95), adding a rich, salty undertone to this spicy dip of ground pork, creamy coconut milk, tasty Thai basil, and one of the world's greatest seasonings: intensely aromatic Kaffir lime leaves. The dip was ringed by crisp, fresh vegetables, and we couldn't stop dipping. It's an entrée, but it's more fun as a shared appetizer.

Three soups proved the Khmer cooks in the kitchen (who work alongside the Thai cooks) really know how to brew and stew. Cambodian chicken soup (s'nao namgnou, $4.25) looked like a simple broth flecked with scallion and lime leaf, but one sip revealed a seemingly endless roll call of flavors. The cook seasons this soup by the cup, smashing and swishing lemongrass, cilantro-like sawtooth herb, Asian mint, and more in the broth before scooping it all out.

A delicate sweet and sour stew (somlar machu youn, best with shrimp, $10.95) - swimming with crunchy lotus root, soft chunks of papaya, and toasty fried garlic - also had a complex, addictive broth. A thick garden stew (samlor kako, $12.95) with chicken was a tasty tangle of spinach, beans, Asian pumpkin, and squash in a dusky, prahok-tweaked brew.

Other Khmer classics, such as juicy beef loc lac, which you douse with a thimble of tangy lime-pepper sauce ($11.95), and a light, homemade, green curry (samlor katee, $12.95) tossed over super-fresh vegetables, were just as satisfying.

Meanwhile, a brief sampling of the Thai and sushi menus turned up some very good Thai and some gorgeous but average-tasting sushi that we expect will improve under the guidance of co-owner Nathan Chhour, who spent 10 years as a sushi chef at Jae's Café.

But it's the Cambodian flavors that got us most excited, because life's simply too short for yet another plate of pad Thai.