Braised anchovies with firm flesh

As the last rains of the season gradually end and the Hau River's water loses its reddish-brown color from the silt, the canals and streams here become the habitat of swarms of minnows.

The water rippled constantly as fish surfaced to feed. The children cut bamboo to make fishing rods, immersing themselves in the simple pleasures of rural life. As soon as the hook touched the water's surface, they pulled up a fish the size of their little finger, slender and flat, with shimmering silver scales, wriggling in the sunlight. They cast their lines, jerked them, and caught fish in rapid succession.

To make those firm, chewy anchovies, my mother cleaned them thoroughly and marinated them with plenty of sugar. She put the fish in a pot over a fire, added good quality fish sauce. When the fish sauce boiled down, she added a spoonful of lard or cooking oil, removed it from the heat, and sprinkled pepper powder evenly over it. Just smelling the aroma of the braised fish emanating from the stove made my stomach rumble.

Like many people living along the Hau River, my mother loved fried anchovies, either fresh or battered. She marinated them in good fish sauce before dropping them into a pan of boiling oil. Freshly fried anchovies were delicious, but battered ones were even more elegant when wrapped in vermicelli with fresh vegetables and cucumber, dipped in a fish sauce, vinegar, garlic, and chili sauce. It was a memorable dish because the firm, sweet anchovy meat blended perfectly with the flavors of the vegetables and fruits from our garden.

I can never forget those days in October of the lunar calendar in Phong Dien ( Can Tho ). The locals used traps like bird traps or small-mesh nets to block one end of the canal. Then they threw handfuls of mud into the traps, causing the water to ripple, and the small fish would frantically rush into the "traps." It wasn't just one family, but the whole village would gather to catch these small fish, it was like a festival. Each family would harvest about ten kilograms of small fish. They would bring the fish home, cut off the heads, gut them, scale them, and marinate them with fish sauce, salt, and other spices before spreading them out on trays to dry in the sun. A good day in the sun would make these fish, full of flavor, shrivel up into unique dried fish.

Dried anchovies are often eaten with pickled mustard greens. To make pickled mustard greens, people in Phong Dien wash the greens thoroughly, dry them in the sun for three days, and wash them again before marinating them with salt and sugar. After the greens are prepared and placed in jars, they pour in a brine solution of salt and sugar boiled with river water (specifically Phong Dien river water). Once boiled and cooled, the brine is poured into the jars. Unlike in many other places where it takes only three days, to enjoy the delicious Phong Dien pickled mustard greens, you have to wait for 6-7 days. That's when the pickled mustard greens are "ripe," turning a beautiful turmeric yellow color, with a mild sourness and a crisp, crunchy texture. Enjoying fried dried anchovies with pickled mustard greens, and a glass of authentic Phong Dien rice wine – a wine whose flavor is truly captivating and intoxicating – reveals the rich and intoxicating taste of the Mekong Delta's rivers and waterways!

Text and photos : Phuong Kieu

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/ca-long-tong-kho-cung-minh-185631626.htm