Taste of home: Waiting for the anchovy season to arrive.

My house is right by the Sa Huỳnh seaport (Quảng Ngãi). The locals here are used to counting months and years by the fishing season. The sea has warmed up again in the last few weeks, and the anchovy season has arrived. So, Tet (Vietnamese New Year) and spring are not far away anymore.

I remember when I was little I asked my grandfather, "Why are they called anchovies, Grandpa?" He laughed and said, "Because they're as gentle as rice." I liked his explanation. The fish are like small, familiar grains of rice, so small that you wouldn't dare stare at them for fear they'd... melt away.

Rice paper with anchovies

PHOTO: TRAN CAO DUYEN

At the dock, anchovies are stacked in shallow bamboo baskets to be transported to distant markets. In the village market, however, the anchovies are neatly arranged in aluminum basins, their skin glistening with freshness. When sold, the anchovies are lightly measured with a small cup, poured into a funnel made from fresh banana leaves, and then wrapped. This fish sells very quickly because it's fresh, delicious, nutritious, and inexpensive.

My villagers are bustling with joy as the fragrant anchovy season returns. There are many variations of anchovy dishes. Grilled sun-dried anchovies retain their sea aroma. Sun-dried anchovies are used to make crispy fried anchovies. Anchovies are used in tomato soup. Boiled anchovies are eaten with rice paper rolls and fresh vegetables. Anchovies are battered and fried. Anchovies are used in egg patties. Anchovies with their heads removed are used to make porridge for a late-night snack… A journalist from the province came to Sa Huỳnh intending to write a report about large fish, but the tiny anchovies "forced" her to change her topic. She said, "After only two days, I… grasped the essence of anchovies."

I suspect that anchovies, though small, have contributed to raising countless poor children in the coastal villages. Watching their children eat heartily, the mothers and grandmothers would often say, "Eat as much as you want, child. Anchovies are plentiful; as long as there's rice, there's anchovy." The toothless neighbor would rhyme, "It's as simple as a lump of clay, Bờm / Mackerel shakes, anchovies laugh." Therefore, in the kitchens of these coastal villages, the aroma of braised anchovies in salty sauce is indispensable during the season. I remember my mother once telling my sister, "Salt is fine, but don't forget a few spoonfuls of anchovy fish sauce, my child." I believe that the "essence" of the old season's fish meets the fish of the current season; what did the previous generation "say" to this generation that makes the pot of fish stew so delicious forever?

My mother rarely used turmeric powder when cooking fish. We had a few old turmeric bushes in the backyard. I would pull them up, peel them, and grind them finely for her to use as a seasoning. I was a very grateful child, often saying during meals, "The fish is fragrant, delicious, and has a beautiful yellow color thanks to turmeric," just to hear the warm laughter of my parents and my dear sister.

As long as the sea is calm, fish will come to the harbor every day. There are many kinds of fish, but the people in my hometown still choose anchovies as the name for the season - the anchovy season. This afternoon, my sister and her husband from the city came to visit. My sister went down to the kitchen to braise anchovies, a favorite dish from her pre-marriage days. I went to the backyard to pull up some turmeric roots. My brother (a teacher) whispered: "This dish is best served with rice paper, my friend. The anchovies are sweet and tender, and the rice paper is crispy. You and I are getting old with time. Only anchovies are always new, no matter the season..."

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/huong-vi-que-huong-doi-mua-ca-com-ve-185260111173657978.htm