A fairy tale about a dish

*Ingredients for braised young jackfruit with mackerel. Photo: Archival material.*

This dish has found its way into folk songs, gentle as a lullaby yet profound as the earth's veins, becoming a call from home to countless people from Quang Nam who have left their homeland. Anyone who has once tasted the mildly astringent flavor of young jackfruit blended with the flesh of the flying fish will understand that the ancient song is not just a romantic verse, but also a strong bond connecting mountains to the sea, connecting hearts to hearts.

Quang Nam province has two rivers that serve as the lifeblood of the land: the Vu Gia and the Thu Bon. The rivers carry as much water as they carry the essence of the land. Since the founding of villages, these two rivers have silently carried the harvests, nurtured the dreams of the inhabitants, and deposited alluvial soil on the riverbanks, sustaining generations. The Thu Bon is not just water, but also the memory of the nation.

The river once reflected the image of the large, bulging boats cutting through the waves towards the Hoi An estuary. These boats, with their wide, bulging hulls and sails billowing in the southerly wind, carried fish sauce, salt, pottery, rice, and fabrics—and the sweat and skill of countless artisans from Kim Bong, Thanh Chau, and Cam Pho. These boats were not only a means of trade but also a symbol of the spirit of the Quang Nam people: resilient, tenacious, living amidst the sea winds while maintaining their original essence.

The Vu Gia River is as gentle as a mother's arm, embracing the fields, irrigating the banks, and carefully collecting every grain of silt to nourish the villagers through countless droughts. That river silently sustains villages like Giao Thuy, Ai Nghia, Quang Hue , Ha Nha, and Kiem Lam. Wherever the Vu Gia and Thu Bon rivers have passed, there are rice paddies in full bloom, lush green alluvial plains, the sound of roosters crowing at dawn, and rustic meals where young jackfruit stewed with barracuda is always the heart of the feast.

For the people of Quang Nam, young jackfruit and flying fish are not just two ingredients, but two realms of memory. Young jackfruit from the hills of the highlands, flying fish from the sea of the lowlands. These two, brought together in a steaming clay pot, represent the harmonious blend of terrain, climate, and the soul of the land. The young jackfruit, sliced thickly, is sweet and delicate, carrying the scent of fresh sap from the hillside sun. The green flying fish, shimmering like the back of a seabird, has firm flesh and the savory aroma of the sea during the humid season.

In Quang Nam province, braised flying fish must be made with ground turmeric, bird's eye chili, garlic, shallots, and rich anchovy fish sauce. The pot is simmered over a low fire for many hours, the young jackfruit is tender but not mushy, the flying fish absorbs the flavors without dissolving, and the sauce thickens into a golden-brown color, a blend of earth and sunshine. Pick up a piece of young jackfruit and you'll feel the scent of the countryside unfold; pick up a piece of flying fish and you'll hear the whisper of the sea. It's not just a dish; it's a story of mountains and sea, a mother's message to her child, a memory of the lean season and the moonlit nights, a harmony between the two souls of the people of Quang Nam.

Our generation grew up when the country had just entered the cooperative era. Memories are of meals mixed with corn, potatoes, cassava, and unripe bananas; a single grain of rice carrying three or four slices of dried cassava. Memories of Thursday classes where we couldn't hear a single word because our stomachs were rumbling with hunger. Memories of ripped pants patched twice, and faded white shirts stained with rice porridge. Memories of collecting scrap paper for small projects, only to receive yellowed, recycled notebooks a few months later, cherishing them like treasures.

Those hardships shaped the character of Quang Nam: resilient, straightforward, and deeply committed to loyalty and affection. The village, the river, the road, the banyan tree by the water, the bamboo bridge, the meal of cassava mixed with mackerel stewed with young jackfruit… all are like pieces that make up the soul of the homeland, flowing with every person from Quang Nam who travels far away.

Therefore, braised young jackfruit with flying fish is not just food, but a source of nostalgia. It's a call from our ancestors' hearths of the past. It's a reminder that no matter where people from Quang Nam go, through countless seasons of hardship, a single folk song is enough to draw them back home.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of a foreign land, this morning I looked through old photos, and just seeing a plate of braised mackerel with unripe jackfruit brought tears to my eyes, as if the sound of the Vu Gia River echoed back, as if the scent of the Thu Bon River's alluvial soil touched my memory.

I've gone far away, but the rivers of my homeland still flow tirelessly towards the Han and Doi estuaries to merge with the vast ocean. From the headwaters, young jackfruit is still sent down, and from the river's end, flying fish are still sent up.

Source: https://baodanang.vn/co-tich-mot-mon-an-3311013.html