My childhood was spent in the countryside of Northern Vietnam, where simple dishes were made from the very rice grains of our homeland. In my memories, rice cakes (bánh đúc) were the most familiar treat. Not something bought from the market, but a dish made by my mother's own hands after each harvest. I remember the days when the rice had just been harvested, the yard smelled of straw, and my mother would be busy preparing rice cakes. Back then, life was still full of hardships. Our meals throughout the year mainly consisted of vegetables, freshwater fish, and other treats made from rice. Yet, every time my mother made rice cakes, my siblings and I would eagerly anticipate eating a rare delicacy.
From early morning, my mother would wash the rice, soak it in water, and then grind it. The mill would turn steadily under her hands, calloused from working in the fields. My grandmother always said that making rice cakes seemed simple, but making a delicious batch was a secret passed down from generation to generation. The rice had to be of a type that was both sticky and fragrant. The lime water had to be mixed just right; too much would make the cakes smell strongly of lime, too little would make them soft and mushy, lacking crispness.
Perhaps that's why, every time she made rice cakes, my mother put so much care into it, as if pouring all her skill and love into it. A pot of opaque white batter sat on the fire, and she continuously stirred it with chopsticks. The heat made her face glisten with sweat. My sisters and I sat around the stove, our eyes glued to the pot as the batter gradually thickened. When the cakes were cooked, she added fragrant roasted peanuts, mixed them in, and poured them into bowls or sieves lined with green banana leaves. The scent of banana leaves mingled with the aroma of fresh rice filled the small kitchen.
My mother's rice cake was creamy white, soft, smooth, and refreshing. But what made it truly special was the bowl of Bần soy sauce placed beside it. The soy sauce was made from soybeans and glutinous rice from our hometown, carefully fermented in earthenware jars. Just dipping a piece of rice cake into the sauce and bringing it to your mouth was enough to experience the soft, cool texture of the cake blending with the sweet, savory, and rich flavor of the sauce. It's a taste I still can't forget to this day.
During my formative years, I went to school and then worked far from home. Modern life brought so many new and exciting foods. But sometimes, amidst the bustling city, just spotting a basket of rice cakes at a market corner or catching a whiff of familiar soy sauce, my heart is filled with nostalgia for home. I remember my mother hunched over the fire. I remember the rattling sound of the rice mill on summer afternoons. I remember us children waiting for the cakes to cool so we could have the first bite. And most of all, I remember the silent love my mother poured into each bowl of cakes.
Nowadays, rice cakes come in many variations. There are hot rice cakes, rice cakes with crab stew, rice cakes with meat filling... Each type has its own unique flavor. But in my memory, the best is still the creamy white rice cake my mother made from fresh rice, eaten with rich, savory Bần soy sauce. It's not just a dish, but also a part of my childhood, a part of my homeland.
My mother is older now. Deep wrinkles have formed around her eyes, and much of her hair has turned gray. But every time her children and grandchildren return home, she still busily prepares the familiar dishes of the past. And in that small kitchen, her pot of rice cakes still retains its original flavor. Each time I enjoy it, I feel like I'm transported back to my childhood, back to my mother and the most peaceful days of my life. There are flavors that not only nurture people but also cherish memories. For me, my mother's rice cakes are one such flavor.
Source: https://baohungyen.vn/nho-thuong-banh-duc-3196711.html
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