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More than a quarter of a century ago, I made many trips along the coast of Phu Vang in the summer. It wasn't just the golden hues of ripening rice scattered along the village roads and alleys; summer was also a time of abundant chili pepper fields, their vibrant red color stretching along the village roads and staining the vast drying yards of the cooperatives. The best-preserved dried chilies were exported to Eastern Europe, exchanged for a few industrial product vouchers, rice, and clothes for their children. The second-grade chilies were carefully crushed and pressed in woven bamboo containers to extract the juice, which was then mixed with coarse salt and boiled to make chili sauce. Sometimes, staying at a villager's house, I would roll up my sleeves and help pound the chilies, enjoying the pungent aroma and wiping away tears from the spiciness.
Coastal people consider chili sauce a cherished part of their culinary culture, an aesthetically pleasing treat even in humble circumstances. On misty, rainy afternoons or cold winter days, simply scooping up a bowl of perfectly cooked white rice, steaming hot, and lightly drizzling a few spoonfuls of chili sauce creates a truly delicious dish. The dark red, thick sauce, upon touching the hot rice grains, releases a rich, intoxicating aroma that awakens all the senses. Eating a bite of rice drizzled with chili sauce, the salty taste of the sea salt and the pungent spiciness of the chili, yet with a lingering sweetness, blend seamlessly, permeating the mouth, running down the spine, and warming the stomach, comforting the heart through the cold winter days.
The most famous chili sauce undoubtedly comes from the Vinh Xuan region, possessing a special power in complementing local dishes. When mixed with Phu Thuan fish sauce as a dipping sauce for tender, juicy boiled pork slices or tart fig salad, the chili sauce suddenly becomes a catalyst, enhancing the richness and savory flavors with a blend of spiciness and astringency. Adding a few drops to the fish sauce served with banh loc or banh beo (types of Vietnamese rice cakes) doesn't dilute the taste but dissolves evenly, creating a delicate pinkish-orange hue and a deeply penetrating spiciness, making the dipping experience even more enjoyable. Or simply adding a spoonful of chili sauce to a pot of braised fish instantly gives the dish a vibrant red color, eliminates the fishy smell, and releases an unmistakable, intense aroma…
The presence of chili plants and chili sauce in the salty sands is like a destiny of survival, a profound philosophy of the interdependence between a harsh land and the character of the people of Hue 's coastal region. Coastal sandy soil is inherently the most "unfaithful" soil; in the dry season it's scorching hot, and in the rainy season the soil is eroded and exposed to salt by the sea breeze. On this impoverished white sand, the burning sun and the pungent saltiness of the ocean become catalysts for the chili plants to take root, carefully absorbing every precious drop of groundwater to accumulate their pungent essence. The poor sand nourishes the chili peppers, remembering the shore after crossing the river, through the sun and rain. The hardship of the land has created a spiciness that penetrates the very core, yet leaves a sweet, delicate aftertaste, much like the arduous but loyal lives of the people of this sandy land. It's also worth mentioning that to have abundant harvests of fruit, farmers must diligently collect seaweed from ponds and swamps, using ox carts to transport it to the fields to mulch the chili plants.
Coastal sand is porous and easily blown away by the wind, yet it retains heat deeply after sunset. The people of the sandy region are similar; outwardly straightforward and arid like wild pineapple bushes, but inwardly possessing a warm and loyal heart. The chili sauce, too, can endure countless seasons of rain and sunshine without losing its flavor, much like the unwavering loyalty of the people of the coast who have chosen to stay with the land. No matter how life's currents may change, the pungent spiciness of the chili remains intact in their minds, like a sacred fire burning deep within the earth and sand.
Source: https://huengaynay.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/nong-nan-tu-trong-cat-man-166842.html
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