
Every January and February, I remember the time when I sat at the end of the alley waiting to see if my mother would buy jellyfish when she returned from the afternoon market. In the 1990s, traveling from Tam Lanh to Tam Ky was still difficult, even though the two places were less than thirty kilometers apart.
The whole commune had only one bus, which the locals still called a freight bus. In the early morning, it carried passengers and goods to Tam Ky market, and at noon, it turned around to carry fish, vegetables, household goods, fertilizers, and all sorts of other things back to the commune. At that time, the afternoon market only opened at three or four o'clock. Sometimes the bus was broken down, and the rural market had to be held under the flickering light of oil lamps.
In those years, in the second lunar month, jellyfish was the most anticipated dish by my hometown people from the cargo truck returning from the town. Seeing my mother come back from the market with a bag of jellyfish, my brothers and I immediately rushed to the garden to pick jackfruit, then ran to the water tank to pick Vietnamese coriander and basil.
He had planted a lot of jackfruit in his garden in the past, so in no time he had a basket full of jackfruit pods with tiny green rice seeds. After Tet, the jackfruit began to bloom and produce small clusters of fruit. This was also the time when jellyfish season began. It seemed like a match made in heaven to have a jellyfish mixed with jackfruit that made many Tam Lanh children like me yearn for it.
Making jellyfish salad is quite simple. Mom blanchs the jellyfish, chops it up, and puts it in a large bowl. While Mom slices the jackfruit, my brothers and I wash the herbs, roast peanuts, and buy grilled rice paper.
Mom added jellyfish, thinly sliced pineapple and herbs. On better days, she added some peeled boiled shrimp or shredded boiled pork. Then she poured sweet and sour fish sauce, mixed well, then put it on a plate, sprinkled with roasted peanuts and sliced red chili peppers, which looked very nice.
My mother always asked me to bring my grandparents a plate of jellyfish mixed with rice paper, and then wait for me to come back to serve it for the whole family to eat.
I have no way to describe the deliciousness of the jellyfish mixed with pineapple and jackfruit dish that my mother used to make. The soft, sweet, cool jellyfish meat mixed with the acrid taste of the pineapple and jackfruit, the sweet and sour taste of the chili and garlic fish sauce, the fatty taste of the peanuts that I roasted myself, and the gentle aroma of Vietnamese coriander and basil. I still remember it as if I had just eaten it again this afternoon...
Thirty years passed so quickly. The old carts and afternoon markets in the countryside were also in the past. The jackfruit garden he planted now only had one small jackfruit tree at the beginning of the alley, which he tried to keep as a souvenir.
Tam Lanh Market now meets every morning, sellers bring all kinds of fish and shrimp from the sea. After the second lunar month, jellyfish are also sold regularly. Mom is no longer eager to go to the market to buy jellyfish to mix with pineapple and jackfruit like she used to be. When I called her, she said, "All your friends are gone, who will eat it if you mix it?" The children of the past have left the village for the city, where can they find moments to gather, laugh out loud with dishes filled with memories...
Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/sua-tron-khom-mit-3150697.html
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