Crab noodle soup on a rainy day in Bien Hoa street corner

In May, after long days of scorching sun, in the afternoon, dark clouds rolled in, the sky darkened. A cool breeze blew. At first, it was just a few drops falling on the eaves, but a few minutes later, it was pouring rain. The muddy water carried away the bubbles that bulged on the road. Outside, people were busy driving their vehicles as if racing against the first rain of the season.

Illustration: Heng Xuan

I hurried to take shelter from the rain under the awning on Vo Thi Sau Street, next to the crab noodle shop owned by a woman, whose eyes were deeply marked with crow’s feet, bearing the marks of hardships in making a living. The shop was nestled under an old awning, nestled among high-rise buildings and luxurious restaurants and cafes. It was called a shop but in reality there was only a cart, on top was a pot of boiling broth, below was a red-hot charcoal stove. The shop had a few tables and a few chairs, worn out over the years.

I parked my bike, went to the restaurant, pulled up a chair, sat down and ordered a bowl of crab noodle soup. The owner of the restaurant warmly welcomed me with a bright smile, her face flushed with the steaming pot of broth, her hands quickly swirling the broth. She brought the small noodles into the pot to blanch, put the noodles into the bowl then used a large ladle to scoop the broth skillfully. She asked me if I wanted boiled or raw vegetables. Hearing her accent, I guessed she wasn’t from this place so I blurted out: “Where are you from?”

Bien Hoa - the place that helps many people turn their sparkling dreams into reality.

Her eyes lit up with surprise, and she smiled as she replied: “You are so perceptive. I live in Thanh Son commune, Dinh Quan district. My son studies at Dong Nai University, Faculty of Education, so my husband and I decided to come here to find more work.” She sighed and said: “It’s easier to make money in the city.”

She told me: after helping her push the cart from 3pm, her husband took the opportunity to run a few motorbike taxi rides. The couple stayed in a rented house next to the railway. Every day, she sold about 200 bowls of noodles. On busy days, she could go home early to rest. But today it was raining, the restaurant was empty, and the pot of broth was not much less.

She smiled gently and said optimistically: even though the sales were slow, at 8pm she would push the cart back to the boarding house and give each person in the neighborhood a bowl. Whoever paid whatever amount they wanted to pay, they could pay, and if they didn’t pay, it was fine, they were all poor workers who came to the city to make a living. When their child finished college, she and her husband would return to the fields and gardens.

Listening to her story, I felt a stinging in my nose. I was born in a poor countryside, going to university was the only way for us to reach our dreams. During the days of studying in the city, the burden of earning a living weighed heavily on the shoulders of our parents. There were many students from the poor countryside who went to the city with ambitions. Besides them, many parents temporarily left their beloved home, far away from the neighbors who helped each other out in the dark, temporarily left the peaceful rice fields to follow their children to the city to find more work. The money soaked in sweat was used to support their children's education with the hope that their future life would be less difficult. I saw in her the hard-working appearance of my mother back then.

The bowl of vermicelli soup with crab was placed in front of me, steaming hot. Outside, the rain was getting heavier. I slowly enjoyed the taste of the vermicelli soup with crab. The sweet taste of the bone broth, the rich taste of crab soup mixed with minced meat; in the bowl of vermicelli, there was pig's blood, pork sausage, and pork skin. The crab soup was pressed into a thick, firm cake, mixed with a little egg yolk and minced meat, so the layer of crab soup was thick. Biting into a piece of fried tofu, I could feel the sweet and fatty taste, the fatty crab fat, the crunchy pork skin, the vermicelli noodles were chewy but not mushy. The accompanying vegetables were a plate of water spinach, split into neat, crispy, sweet pieces, accompanied by bitter herbs, banana blossoms, and basil. The shrimp paste was thick and fragrant. A wonderful blend of the rich flavor of the broth, the spicy taste of the chili, the fatty taste of crab soup, and the sweetness of the vegetables created an irresistible perfection. Enjoying a bowl of vermicelli soup with crab in a small corner of Bien Hoa on a rainy day, I miss my poor hometown, where in the afternoon the whole family gathers around my mother's pot of vermicelli soup, all the fatigue of the day suddenly disappears.

Slurping down a bowl of vermicelli soup on a rainy day is really enjoyable. The rain has stopped, the streetlights cast a faint yellow hue onto the road. I stood up to pay, startled by a full bowl of vermicelli, but at a reasonable price, 35,000 VND. With that small amount of money, she is trying to save up to help her son dream of becoming a teacher. One day, he will be like me, leaving the poor countryside and settling in the open city.

Nguyen Tham

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/dong-nai-cuoi-tuan/202505/bun-rieu-cua-noi-goc-pho-bien-hoa-ngay-mua-3ed1e4c/