In the cold of the city, the delicious dish that wakes me up is a bowl of hot porridge. The ingredients are easy to buy, the cooking method is not complicated, my mother often cooks porridge for breakfast so that the children can get to school on time.
My house is near Ms. Bong’s pork stall. Early in the morning, carrying a basket across the village road, my mother can buy some fresh pig intestines and a piece of pig cheek to cook porridge.
Mom opened the jar, scooped up some fragrant sticky rice, mixed it with seasonal rice to make the porridge fragrant and sticky. After washing the intestines thoroughly with salt and lemon, Mom put them into the pot of boiling water on the wood stove. Mom took advantage of the opportunity to go to the corner of the well to pick some Vietnamese coriander, pick a few green bananas, dig up some ginger, pick some red and green chilies and wash them.
Mom crushed a piece of fresh ginger, opened the lid and dropped it into the boiling pot of offal to make it fragrant. When the offal was cooked, she took it out and drained it. The porridge pot had also expanded, Mom added a bit of turmeric and seasoned it to taste.
The dipping sauce also had to be done properly. Mom told me that without ginger, the spiciness of the chili, or the sweet and sour taste of the lemon and sugar, the taste would not be complete. Use whatever coriander is available from the garden. On a day when the banana bunch is still green, cut a few of them to eat with it, it would be delicious.
The days I followed my mother to the market, in the sweet cold of the rainy season, and was treated to a hot bowl of porridge by my mother, I was filled with longing and longing. The corner of the rural market thus became memorable to the people living in the city.
This afternoon the weather turned windy, sent a picture of a bowl of warm chili ginger dipping sauce with a bowl of porridge, someone exclaimed with nostalgia. “My maternal family has been selling porridge for decades in the midland market. When I was very young, I also followed my mother to the market to help sell porridge.
The shop has a thatched roof and bamboo poles, but things have changed over time. The little girl who used to wait on tables and serve hot porridge has now left the countryside for the city. Oh my, I miss that rustic dish from the corner of the market!
My sisters and I used to carry rice porridge to the fields to help our mother harvest rice. Before going to the fields, our mother would cook a pot of porridge early in the morning, cover it with ashes and leave it on the stove.
The night before, my mother told my sisters and I to wait for the right time to carry the porridge down to the fields. The rice field road was low and high, so I don’t know how, but the pot of porridge, though tilted by our small footsteps, was still intact for the aunts and uncles to exchange for their work harvesting the rice.
Looking for the old taste, thinking about it is also a lot of work. In the cold of the changing seasons, I stopped by the porridge shop at Nam Phuoc intersection. The shop only opens in the afternoon, located between the houses of the town, but customers come and go busily. You have to go early, if you are late you will return empty-handed, the owner said. Looking at the porridge served, diners know she is not exaggerating. The blood porridge is smooth, the dish of offal with dipping sauce and vegetables is really pleasing to the eye.
The cuisine of the countryside is truly impressive. Whether it is in a small alley, a simple stall at the corner of the market or a neat restaurant, the chef still prepares dishes based on his years of cooking.
Like the porridge in front of me, the colors of cuisine create a special attraction. Not in a fancy restaurant, but in the rustic dishes, mixed in life, that take root and spread branches.
And then somewhere in the conversation about hometown, "Does Mrs. Nam still sell porridge in the market?", "It's raining, I wonder if Mrs. Bay still makes spring rolls to sell?", "It's so cold, but I want a hot cup of sweet soup in the summer"...
Hometown, not far away. We have a meal and sit down to tell about old dishes, then look at each other and crave and remember...
Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/dan-da-chao-long-cho-que-3144013.html
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