I remember when we were searching for clams in the sand.

My maternal grandparents' house was situated right beside the river in my hometown, its waters a beautiful blue all year round. It seemed that the people of this river learned from a young age to read the ebb and flow of the tides to make a living. Even after leaving her hometown to marry into a family in the town, and with her hair now gray from the passage of time, my mother could never forget the days of her childhood nurtured by the river.

Sweet river clams

Around this time of year in my hometown, on sunny days, everyone waits for the tide to go low and takes advantage of the opportunity to search for clams. During the season, river clams are usually found under a layer of mud and sand in the shallow water along the riverbank. My grandmother would often tie a bamboo basket to herself and wade slowly into the chest-deep water, diving down to search for clams. The feeling of her hands touching the rough clam shells immediately transformed from anticipation to joy. For generations, the river in my hometown has always lovingly bestowed countless gifts upon the people.

Occasionally, by chance, my grandmother's hands would stumble upon shards of pottery, sharp objects, or fish spines, causing cuts and bleeding. My mother said that diving in the river wasn't easy; you needed to be strong, resilient, and have long stamina to endure being immersed in the cold water all day under the scorching sun of Central Vietnam. Even with nature's bounty, the struggle for survival was incredibly arduous. In return, the more clams they caught, the better their meals and the more money they could buy supplies.

River clams are only about three fingers long, with two sturdy, yellowish-brown or dark brown shells. Thanks to the sweet, nourishing waters of their hometown rivers, these river clams have plump, juicy meat and a sweeter, more delicious flavor than sea clams. Clams caught cannot be cooked immediately; they must be soaked in rice water with a few crushed chili peppers for about half a day to release all the mud and sand. Only then can they be thoroughly washed and prepared into many delicious, rustic dishes that you'll remember forever.

My grandmother often went to the garden to pick tender sweet potato leaves, cooking a light and refreshing clam soup for a hot summer afternoon. For a change of pace, she'd cook clam soup with tomatoes and starfruit, a sweet, sour, and slightly spicy flavor that was incredibly appetizing. Boiled or steamed clams with lemongrass were even more appealing. The chewy, succulent clam meat dipped in a bowl of fish sauce with chili and garlic was simply delicious. Or, after hours of soaking in the river until her hands and feet were numb, her lips dry and her face pale, slurping down a steaming bowl of fragrant clam porridge would melt away all her fatigue, making her immensely grateful for her hometown river.

I looked at my mother's wrinkled hands, the calluses from a time spent gathering clams gone. But the traces of cherished memories remained deeply etched in her heart. It seemed she was missing my grandmother, her stories flowing endlessly. She sat there before me, and it felt as if she were transported back in time to our old house by the gentle river in our hometown. My grandmother's bamboo basket of clams seemed to sway precariously in my mother's eyes.

My grandmother is now gone, and my mother no longer has the strength to personally reach the riverbed to search for clams. Eating a bowl of clam porridge is much easier than it used to be; there are stalls everywhere. But the taste can never be the same as the porridge my grandmother lovingly seasoned with her whole life.

NY AN

Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/nho-khi-mo-cat-bat-ngheu-post798595.html