Grandma's ginger jam

As usual, whenever I visited my grandmother's house at the end of the year, I always saw the ginger patch. Carefully fertilized with ash, the ginger grew lush and green. My grandmother was amazing; she always kept that ginger variety. She kept praising it: "This ginger is so delicious, so spicy!" I'm afraid of spicy food, so I frowned: "So spicy, how can it be delicious, Grandma?" My grandmother chuckled: "Oh, you silly boy, ginger has to be spicy to be delicious! What kind of ginger is it if it's not spicy?"

My grandmother would wait until the 15th day of the 12th lunar month to harvest the ginger, leaving a small amount for the next season. She would peel the ginger, boil it in a pot, then use a sharp knife to thinly slice it and soak it in cold water before making candied ginger. She did all that herself; she was so diligent! When I was little and had free time, I would often run home in the 12th lunar month to watch my grandmother make candied ginger. After soaking the ginger for the required amount of time, she would drain it in a basket, then mix the ginger and sugar in a pan. She would let the mixture sit in the pan for about half a day to allow the ginger to absorb the sugar, then she would put the pan on a charcoal stove, lighting a low flame to let the sugar slowly melt. Once the pan was hot, she would wait for the sugar crystals to completely dissolve into liquid, then stir briefly with chopsticks to let the ginger absorb the sugar syrup again. When the sugar was about to boil, she would skillfully use chopsticks to scoop and stack the ginger in the middle of the pan on top of the ginger around the sides. She would scoop and stack until the edge of the pan formed a "dike" of ginger, rising high and encircling the empty space in the middle like a deep "well," sucking up to the bottom of the pan! When the pan of jam started steaming and emitting a fragrant ginger aroma, Grandma would drop whatever she was doing to "watch over the pan." Using a medium-sized ladle, she would regularly scoop up the sugar syrup from the "well" and pour it evenly over the ginger "dike" surrounding the jam. She would pour it again and again until the water gradually evaporated and dried, turning into white sugar crystals that coated each piece of jam evenly. She would then remove some of the ash so that the fire in the stove remained slightly warm, allowing the jam in the pan to dry completely. Only when she dipped her chopsticks into the pan and heard the crackling sound of the dry jam slices hitting the bottom would she smile brightly, put down her chopsticks, and wipe away the sweat streaming down her face…

Every year, my grandmother would share a handful of her homemade, "loved-after" ginger jam with each of her children to enjoy during Tet (Lunar New Year). Of course, ginger jam was always a must-have for guests at the beginning of the year. Seeing her squint as she looked at the plate of jam, her hand carefully picking up a piece of the dried, curled jam, biting into it, savoring the aroma, and then nodding and raving about its sweet, spicy, and fragrant taste before offering a second piece to a guest, I truly understood how much she loved this traditional New Year's treat. Guests could tell it was delicious even before they tasted it. And it must have been, because except for guests… who were afraid of the spiciness like me, most of them nodded in agreement after tasting my grandmother's ginger jam! My grandmother always said, "Tet without ginger jam isn't Tet!" Once, I tried to argue, but my father glared at me. When we got home, he explained, "Grandma is old; ginger jam is her passion, and if you can't eat it, you shouldn't object and make her sad…"

This year my grandmother turned ninety. I visited her in December and saw the plot of land in front of her house was empty. Surprised, I asked, "Why aren't you planting ginger, Grandma?" She replied sadly, "I still have the seeds, but my hands are too shaky to plant them. Your uncles said, 'Why bother planting them? Just buy them at the market…'"

On the 29th of Tet, I went home and saw my mother making candied ginger. I asked, "But nobody in our family eats candied ginger, why are you making it, Mom?" My mother said, "I found some good ginger at the market, so I bought some to make a plate for your grandmother to eat during Tet..."

Essays by Y Nguyen

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