My house is located in a valley, where storms never let up. Knowing this, around the beginning of March, my father started planting white yams, which were a lifesaver when food was scarce and the villagers were isolated. The yams were easy to prepare, so my grandmother always said, “cook yams to help the clumsy.” As if to repay the homeowner, large clusters of tubers hugged each other and lay underground, waiting for people to dig them up. Understanding, the diggers also had to be careful not to scratch the yams.
Peel the potatoes, wash them, and cut them into finger-sized pieces. Heat a pan of peanut oil on the stove, fry the taro until golden brown, then add the potatoes and stir-fry. Then add a little water, cover the pot, and simmer for about 10 minutes. At this point, each slice of potato begins to fall apart, become plump, and boil. At that moment, the whole space is filled with the fragrant smell of peanut oil, turmeric, and taro mixed with the unique flavor of the taro, spreading everywhere.
Taking the pot of soup off the stove, mom stirs it evenly, ladles it into a bowl, sprinkles on a handful of chopped chives, turmeric leaves, parsley, or ginger leaves, and gathers around to enjoy it in sweet happiness.
As a habit, on winter days, my father would wade out to the fields to set traps to catch fish to improve the family's meals. The snakehead fish were as big as a thumb but very strong. Their meat was firm, fragrant, chewy, and especially sweet.
Scale the fish, wash it and drain it. To make the fish more flavorful, season it with a little crushed salt and other spices and knead it with your hands. Next, take a pointed bamboo stick and pierce it horizontally through the fish and grill it over red-hot charcoal.
Grilling the fish is also done very meticulously. The coals must be very hot so that the fish is cooked from the inside out, without being burnt. Watching the fish gradually curl up while grilling and the fragrant aroma wafting out made my 5-year-old son restless.
When the fish is crispy, they are separated from the grill and then marinated with Mrs. Mai's fish sauce at Thom market, there is nothing like it. Diners not only enjoy the delicate, balanced flavors but also feel the smell of straw and smoke from the countryside.
When he was alive, my grandfather also divided the land to grow tea. Following the family tradition, early in the morning, I walked out to the garden to pick tea leaves to steep in water and add a few slices of fresh ginger to have a delicious drink, retaining its unique aroma.
What could be happier than on cold winter days, in the kitchen, the whole family gathers around a hot meal, a pot of green tea and composes a poem: "Fish eaten in the rain/ Calling on those far away to come back quickly/ Wholeheartedly keeping the oath/ The homeland and roots are hard to fade away".
Source: https://baodanang.vn/thom-ngon-vi-que-3311007.html
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