Miss the vegetable soup my mother cooked

The rustling sound of raindrops touching the edge of the mountain and rolling down the leaves, my heart seems to be lost in the peaceful melodies of my homeland. Even though I have been away from home for so many years, the images of my childhood with my family on a warm rainy afternoon meal are still deeply engraved in my memory.

Missing my hometown is something I always have in my heart. My hometown in the past was a simple thatched-roofed hamlet located on a sandy slope with many wild grasses growing wildly, mixed with lush green depending on the seasons of the year. That place contains so much affection and sweet memories of the countryside. It is an indispensable part of my life with a memorable childhood. The most memorable are the simple meals with simple dishes that I can never forget - that is the vegetable soup cooked by my mother.

Vegetable soup is a simple dish but full of the taste of the countryside. My mother often picked vegetables from the garden early in the morning, so they were fresh and delicious with a natural, refreshing taste. Sometimes she went behind the house to pick a basket of wild Indian gooseberry leaves growing on the sandbank, they crawled all over the young, lush bushes, and then cooked them with a bunch of young silver shrimps from fresh snakehead fish. Sometimes she stripped a few handfuls of wild bo ngot leaves growing along the fence, cut a few young luffa fruits from the trellis planted on the edge of the ditch, and cooked them with snakehead fish at night. The broth was sweet and clear, and a spoonful of soup soaked into the tip of the tongue. It was eaten with goby fish braised with pepper and rice cooked on a wood stove, and yet it was so delicious that it filled the stomach until the pot was empty without me realizing it.

When I was young, in the countryside, for daily meals, few families went to the market to buy vegetables, tubers, meat and fish to prepare like now. Mostly, we foraged around the house, eating whatever was available. My family often had to go to the back of the house before meals to pick some vegetables to cook soup. From picking longan shoots, sweet potato shoots, to Malabar spinach, amaranth… all grew naturally in the home garden.

Growing up, I worked far away, every time I returned to my mother's house, a familiar and intimate taste of the countryside, perhaps there was no dish more delicious than the vegetable soup that my mother picked from the garden and cooked. Vegetable soup is not only a daily dish in a rustic meal, but it is also the love of the countryside where I was born. It always gives me a warm feeling filled with sweet memories.

Nowadays, living in the city, our meals have less and less vegetable soups like in the countryside. But sometimes my family goes to the market and buys fresh vegetables to cook. But the taste is not like the vegetable soup that my mother cooked in the countryside. Every time we eat rice with vegetable soup, memories suddenly come back to remind me and my family to appreciate the things that nature has given us, to nourish us and give us a beautiful and frugal life.

Even though I have been away from home for a long time, I still cannot forget the vegetable soup my mother cooked. That simple dish has become a symbol of family love and warmth, always reminding me of beautiful memories of my hometown and childhood.

Every time I think of my hometown with that vegetable soup, I feel like I am returning to the warm memories filled with happiness in my hometown. Vegetable soup is not only a dish but also a beautiful memory of my hometown filled with family affection. The delicious taste of vegetable soup still exists in my soul, something I will keep forever.

On a rainy afternoon, I remember the vegetable soup my mother cooked, and I feel the warmth of family love. The vegetable soup has made the memories precious.

TRAN VAN THAI

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