My grandmother's stone mill

Speaking of stone mills, almost everyone who lived in the old villages knew about them. It was a tool used to grind flour, made from a natural monolithic stone, in a cylindrical shape, consisting of two overlapping boards. The upper board had two square protruding ears, opposite each other, each side was drilled with a hole to attach a handle for convenience when turning, in the middle of the mouth of the mill was also drilled a hole so that rice or grains could flow down when needed to be ground. The lower board, in addition to the cylindrical part similar to the upper board, was drilled with serrated lines, also had a trough running around to catch the ground flour flowing down. The mill could grind both dry and wet flour. In order to keep the mill always in balance, people connected the lower board and the upper board with a wooden pillar, also called a prong. Mortar shafts are usually made from old guava or star apple trees - types of trees that are not only durable and slow to wear, but also don't matter if the wood powder is ground off a little when the mortar rotates, because these are non-toxic trees, and on the contrary, are good for health.

In the past, my grandparents' house used to have such a mill, I heard that they bought it when they first got married because she loved making cakes. I remember that the mill was placed on a stone pedestal under the porch, next to the kitchen, near the yard with a jackfruit tree that always provided shade, a location that was both airy and convenient for grinding flour. That item was very familiar to me, and it was it that contributed to the growth of my siblings and I with cakes from the hands of my grandmother and mother.

In addition to Banh In which had to be ground dry, the rest of the cakes such as Banh Xeo, Banh Beo, Banh Duc, Banh Gio, Banh It... made by my grandmother and mother at that time were all ground with water flour. Until now, I still have not forgotten the feeling of joy when one morning, my grandmother suddenly scooped rice into a basin to soak and then announced that in the afternoon the whole family would be eating Banh Xeo. In the countryside, when life was still difficult, many meals had to be mixed with cassava and sweet potatoes, but every now and then we had Banh Xeo, everyone in the family was very happy. My mother was told by my grandmother to go to the market to buy bean sprouts, pork belly and shrimp, my father was assigned to break a banana stem in the backyard so that my grandmother could make raw vegetables mixed with things like basil, cinnamon, purple basil... available at the end of the garden, while my second sister and I ground the flour. Holding the wooden stick on the stone mortar, turning it round and round, is not without its fatigue, but for me, everything becomes lighter when I think that in just a short time, I will be sitting in front of a plate of golden, fragrant, fatty banh xeo.

During the harvest season, sometimes to invite the ladies who helped plant rice for a mid-morning meal, we were also assigned to grind flour for my grandmother to make banh duc. The banh duc my grandmother made was dipped in soy sauce, and everyone who ate it praised it as delicious, because in addition to choosing lime to filter the water to soak the rice, she also used fried pork fat soaked in squash leaves, spread it on the bottom and around the hot cast iron pot before pouring the flour in, stirring well. When the flour was cooked, she poured it into several trays lined with banana leaves, then sprinkled a layer of dried shrimp powder that had been fried in oil with chives on top.

Not only making cakes to eat, sometimes my mother and grandmother also made Banh It La Gai, Banh It Tran with shrimp and meat filling... to offer on death anniversaries, or as gifts for neighbors. Not everyone had money to buy a mill, so some families in the neighborhood, whenever they wanted flour, brought rice and sticky rice to my house to grind. Many times, when a family in the neighborhood made Banh Xeo, other families followed suit. The mill seemed to contribute to connecting family and neighborhood relationships. One day, knowing that we liked Banh Beo, my grandmother and mother soaked rice at noon and told us to grind it. In the afternoon, when the bowls of steamed Banh Beo were filled on several baskets, my house suddenly had four guests. They were some uncles in the village, who had made an appointment to meet my father to discuss the village worshiping ceremony the following month. When they saw the Banh Beo, everyone was amazed. Being hospitable, my grandmother invited them right away, and the uncles did not refuse. At that moment, looking at us kids, realizing that everyone’s face was a little sad, she immediately understood, called everyone down to the kitchen, and whispered: “You guys invite each other to visit the houses in the neighborhood. I’ll treat the guests to some banh beo, and later, I’ll catch a chicken to cook porridge to compensate!”. Hearing her say that, we invited each other to go out and play. That night was a happier night for us than eating banh beo, because it’s not easy for grandma to catch a hen about to crow, butcher it…

There are so many stories associated with my grandmother's flour mill during the peaceful days in my hometown, whether it was raining or sunny; whether it was idle or busy. But then the war became more and more fierce. My hometown was severely destroyed by American bombs because the enemy considered it a "white zone". Houses burned down. Some families fled into the forest, the rest evacuated to other places to live. My grandmother's flour mill was buried somewhere underground by bombs. When peace came , we returned to our hometown - which at that time was just a wasteland full of grass and reeds. After the war, there were many difficulties, but then life gradually revived, and we grew up and entered the world.

Last Sunday I went to Dien Khanh to play, a friend invited me to a coffee shop to chat. The shop is small, but in the lobby the owner has created a pretty, quite impressive miniature landscape, because next to the jackfruit tree that shakes the fruit, there is a stone flour mill along with some jars, clay pots, cast iron pots and some baking tools that people used in the past. Everything looks so familiar, it revives a memory in me. When I was a child, with the same flour mill, preparing to help my grandmother and mother make cakes, I scooped up ladlefuls of soaked rice, poured it into the mouth of the mill, then held the wooden stick and turned it around and around, until the rice was soft and flowed down like a smooth white stream of milk...

HOANG NHAT TUYEN

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/nhung-vung-ky-uc/202408/chiec-coi-da-xay-bot-cua-ba-toi-7f97a2d/