When I was a child, every time the rainy season came, my father would start setting eel traps to improve our family meals. Around our house, right at the foot of the hill, there was a small stream that carried water into the muddy rice fields.
Here, the rice planting season is very hard work, but this land is a breeding ground for eels. I remember once, my father only set a few eel traps, and by morning he had a basin full of glistening golden eels.
My mother said that if eels aren't cooked properly, they'll have a very unpleasant fishy smell, so whenever my father catches them, he always uses wood ash to remove all the slime. Then, he washes them thoroughly and boils them until they just start to boil vigorously, then takes them out and drains them in a colander.
It felt wonderful sitting next to my dad, watching him cook and listening to his instructions. He said, "Daughters should learn to cook so they can cook for their husbands and children someday."
My father looked at us, smiling as he meticulously instructed us. He said that if the eel was boiled until just cooked, it wouldn't become mushy or fall apart when you removed the meat. But if it wasn't cooked thoroughly, it would be difficult to remove the meat.
My father's three fingers gripped tightly, separating the eel meat into delicious chunks. While he was preparing the eel, my mother had just finished grinding the spices. There was the spiciness of chili, the aroma of shallots, and especially the pungent taste of turmeric. My mother said that eel wouldn't be delicious without turmeric. She also thinly sliced a plate of turmeric leaves; we children usually didn't use the leaves because we didn't like that strong, pungent taste.
What we loved most was the sizzling sound when Mom fried the eel in hot peanut oil, the spices and meat blending together, filling the air with a wonderful aroma. Everyone's stomachs were rumbling with anticipation for the taste.
After stir-frying the eel until it was richly flavored, my mother would add it to the pre-cooked rice porridge and stir well. Steam rose in thick plumes, filling the air with a fragrant aroma. Outside, dawn was breaking. And so, my sisters and I had a delicious and nutritious breakfast.
Everyone experiences many breakfasts with their parents throughout their lives. But for me, the feeling of sitting together with my siblings and parents on cold winter days, enjoying a simple bowl of porridge, remains the happiest.
Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/to-chao-luon-ngay-mua-3146394.html
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