The season changes from drying bananas on trays.

The bananas are drying in the sun until crispy.

Every year at the beginning of December, my mother would go to the garden to check on the banana bunches, carefully cutting them into individual clusters to place on the altar. The incense smoke would swirl around them, ripening them quickly, and within a few days they would be a vibrant yellow. Eating them all the time would get boring, and leaving them for too long would spoil them, so my mother would cut the bananas into two or three slices lengthwise and place them on a tray to dry in the sun.

Unlike in many places, my mother simply sun-dried the bananas, without adding any spices or sugar. Her sun-dried bananas were born simple and unadulterated, just like the woman herself.

Bananas used for drying are usually the unripe variety. Dried bananas aren't picky about the type, but the perfectly balanced sweetness from the sun-dried unripe bananas is what children love most.

My mother wanted to instill in us meticulousness and patience, so she often assigned us the task of peeling bananas and putting them in a basin. This job seemed simple, but it required careful handling. Ripe bananas were quite soft, so peeling them required gentle hands to avoid bruising them, and skillful hands to prevent the bananas from breaking in half. At first, the children were eager to try, but after a while, they became restless.

After peeling the bananas, my mother cut them into moderately sized slices, lengthwise, and arranged them evenly on a round tin tray. If a slice was too thick, she would flatten it to help it dry faster, but the ends of the banana slices had to be thin enough to prevent them from sticking to the tray.

My mother placed the tray of bananas on a tall wooden stool, then put it out to dry in the bright sunshine. After each day of drying, she would turn the bananas over so that both sides dried evenly.

Back then, we used to sneak out to peek at the tray of dried bananas, and if we saw any that looked a little dry, we'd secretly grab a few slices to eat. For some reason, eating them right there was more appealing than eating them after they'd been dried. Perhaps, as some people joked, eating "for free" from the kitchen was tastier than eating them at the table. Every time Mom came to check on them and saw a few empty spots on the tray, she knew immediately that a few "little kittens" had been sneaking a few bites.

After drying the bananas in strong sunlight for about 4-5 days, they're ready. My mother puts them in a sealed glass jar and stores it in a cool, airy place to eat gradually. When Tet (Vietnamese New Year) arrives, she arranges the dried bananas in boxes used for sweets and preserves, then sets them on the table to offer to guests who come to wish her a happy new year. Brewing a cup of hot tea, savoring a piece of the chewy, sweet dried banana, and sharing stories of the new year – that's how Tet feels complete.

Last year was tough, and with Tet (Lunar New Year) approaching, I was still struggling to make a living in the city. My mother stayed home, diligently drying bananas, packing them into boxes, and sending them to the city by bus. When I opened the styrofoam box I received from the bus station, besides a bunch of vegetables, chili peppers, or a dozen chicken eggs, the box of dried bananas was what brought tears to my eyes. Eating a piece of dried banana, I felt a lump in my throat, overwhelmed by nostalgia for home!

Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/mua-chuyen-tu-mam-chuoi-phoi-3145942.html