My mother's scent of Tet.

Every time Tet (Vietnamese New Year) comes around, I remember my mother's pickled onions as if it were a part of the soul of a past spring, as if it were the scent of Tet from my mother's time. The glossy brown ceramic jar, slightly bulging in body, its mouth tightly sealed with banana leaves and straw string, always stood silently in the corner of the kitchen. But just opening the lid of the jar would unleash a whole realm of fragrant memories.

My mother's pickled onions and shallots, a traditional New Year's dish, are like a haven of memories that will never fade.

My mother's method of pickling onions is as meticulous as carefully preparing a gift for spring. She selects onions that are medium-sized, round, firm, and still have their root ends intact; they soak them overnight in wood ash water to remove the pungent taste.

My mother said that to make delicious pickled onions, you have to peel them very carefully: only peel off the outermost, tough layer, leaving the tender layers intact so that the onions remain white and plump after pickling. If you peel too deeply, the onions will easily get "burned," absorb water, and spoil quickly.

After peeling the onions, my mother washed them thoroughly and let them air dry. Meanwhile, she prepared the brine: just salty enough, not too cold, and not too hot. To give the onions a milder fermentation and a subtly sweet flavor, she added a few pieces of peeled sugarcane to the jar; this gave the pickled onions a natural sweetness and a fragrant aroma of the earth. Adding a few sprigs of red chili peppers and some crushed garlic cloves, she used a bamboo sieve to cover the jar so the onions were evenly submerged in the brine; everything blended together, resting peacefully in the earthenware jar, as if waiting for the moment of transition from the old year to the new.

About two weeks later, just by lifting the lid of the jar, a light, gentle aroma of pickled onions wafts up, subtly reminiscent of Tet (Vietnamese New Year). The onions are pristine white, with slightly purple tips, crisp and crunchy, their flavor a blend of tangy sourness, sweetness from sugarcane, spiciness from chili, and just the right amount of saltiness. My mother uses a clean ladle to scoop the glossy white and purple onions onto a small, pretty plate. Alongside plates of boiled chicken, jellied meat, sticky rice cakes, and pork sausage, this humble pickled onion dish brightens up the entire meal, stimulating all the taste buds.

Just pick up an onion, bite into it gently, and hear the delightful "crunch"; the tangy sourness on the tongue, a touch of salt, a hint of spiciness, a hint of sweetness—all blending together to make even the fatty meat or cold ham taste more complete. A plate of pickled onions is therefore indispensable on the Tet holiday table, like a note completing the symphony of spring cuisine .

It's no coincidence that when talking about Tet (Vietnamese New Year), everyone remembers the saying: "Fatty pork, pickled onions, red couplets / New Year's pole, firecrackers, green sticky rice cake." In the traditional Tet scene, pickled onions stand alongside fatty pork, sticky rice cake, and couplets as symbols of reunion and prosperity. Pickled onions balance the richness, making the Tet meal more harmonious and refreshing, like a highlight that maintains a sense of simplicity amidst the family gathering. For Vietnamese people, a plate of pickled onions is not just a dish, but also a symbol of Tet, a way to remember the season of reunion.

Every time I see pickled onions, my heart swells with emotion. I remember those cold, windy days at the end of the year, when my mother sat on the porch peeling each onion, her hands numb with cold, but her face always radiant with a smile. I remember the sugarcane she peeled while telling old stories. I remember the gentle sound of the knife touching the cutting board, and the faint aroma of onions carried on the breeze through the kitchen.

Now, amidst years of being far away, Tet sometimes arrives only through the calendar, not through its scent. But whenever I catch a whiff of the gentle sourness of pickled onions, my heart is drawn back to my small hometown: where my mother toiled beside her brown earthenware pot, where laughter and firecrackers echoed in my memories. It was there that I had a simple yet wonderfully warm childhood.

For me, my mother's pickled onions and shallots during Tet (Vietnamese New Year) are like a haven of memories, evoking the scent of Tet, preserving the flavors of the holiday, my childhood, and the enduring love for my homeland.

Ngoc Mai

Source: https://baotuyenquang.com.vn/van-hoa/202602/mui-tet-cua-me-9e032ea/