My house is located in a valley, and it's never without storms and heavy rains. Knowing this, around the beginning of March, my father starts planting white yams, a lifesaver when food is scarce and the villagers are isolated. Yams are easy to cook, so my grandmother always says, "Cooking yams helps those who are clumsy in the kitchen." As if to repay the host, large clusters of tubers lie nestled underground, waiting to be dug up. Understanding this, the diggers must be careful not to scratch the tubers.
Peel and wash the taro, then cut it into finger-sized pieces. Heat peanut oil in a pan, sauté the shallots until golden brown, then add the taro and stir-fry. Add a little water, cover, and simmer over low heat for about 10 minutes. At this point, the taro slices will begin to loosen, becoming soft and bubbling. The entire space will be filled with the rich aroma of peanut oil, turmeric, and shallots, blended with the unique flavor of taro.
After taking the pot of soup off the stove, my mother stirred it well, ladled it into bowls, and sprinkled it with a handful of chopped mint, turmeric, parsley, or ginger leaves, then gathered around to enjoy it in sweet happiness.
As was his habit, during the winter months, my father would venture out to the fields to set traps and catch fish to improve our family meals. The snakehead fish were about the size of a thumb but very strong. Their flesh was firm, fragrant, chewy, and exceptionally sweet.
Scale and clean the fish, then drain. To enhance the flavor, marinate the fish with a little salt, pound it with other spices, and mix well by hand. Next, pierce the fish with a sharpened bamboo stick and grill it over glowing charcoal.
The process of grilling the fish is also done very meticulously. The charcoal must be hot enough to cook the fish thoroughly, inside and out, without burning. Watching the fish gradually curl as it grills, along with the intoxicating aroma, made my 5-year-old son restless with anticipation.
When the fish is crispy, it's separated from the grill and marinated in Mrs. Mai's fish sauce at Thom Market – nothing compares. Diners not only enjoy the subtle, balanced flavors but also sense the aroma of straw and wood smoke from the countryside.
When my grandfather was alive, he also divided up land for tea cultivation. Following family tradition, in the early morning mist, I would stroll out to the garden to pick tea leaves to brew, adding a few slices of fresh ginger to create a delicious drink with a unique aroma.
What greater happiness could there be than, on cold winter days, the whole family gathered in the kitchen around a warm meal, a pot of green tea, and composing a poem: "Eating fish in the fields when it rains / Calling those far from home to return quickly / Keeping our vows true / Our homeland and roots will never fade away."
Source: https://baodanang.vn/thom-ngon-vi-que-3311007.html
