Go back to your mother…

My mother was a hardworking peasant woman who never knew what a birthday was like, never received a romantic rose on a holiday, and probably never even worn a brand-new dress to celebrate Tet (Vietnamese New Year). Her life was a continuous series of hardships as she raised us to be decent people.

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With a large family and a life of hardship in the past, my mother had to save every penny. Money was even tighter, and we relied solely on the coffee harvest for the entire year, so there were several lean seasons each year. My mother would go to the market with just a few coins in her hand, but she had to struggle to feed a dozen mouths. As a result, our food mainly consisted of vegetables she grew herself in the garden and wild ones in the coffee plantation, whatever was in season. However, sweet potato leaves and chili peppers were always well cared for by my mother, and we almost never lacked them.

The meal included boiled sweet potato shoots served with a bowl of fish sauce mixed with chili peppers, which became a family tradition. It was a poor family dish, but the children in the house never got tired of eating it.

My mother used to say, "Boiled sweet potato leaves look easy, but they're very sensitive to heat. If the heat is too high or uneven, the leaves will easily turn black and become tough. If you overcook them, they'll become mushy and have a bitter taste. Only when boiled over just the right heat will they be sweet and flavorful." I noticed that whenever the water boiled vigorously and she added the sweet potato leaves, she would sprinkle a little salt and add a little cooking oil to keep them green and crisp, and to give them a sweet taste.

When we got tired of boiled sweet potato leaves, Mom would switch to stir-fried sweet potato leaves with garlic, then sweet potato leaves in soup with a little minced meat. In general, our whole family got to enjoy Mom's "all-around sweet potato leaf" dishes. Dad added, "Eating sweet potato leaves is good for your bowels, very good for your health, kids." Only Mom would laugh it off, saying, "Eat vegetables when you're hungry, take medicine when you're sick. I'd love to change things up, but..."

Another "specialty" dish that my siblings and I can never forget is our mother's chili leaf soup. Usually, it's not meat, not shrimp, and not fancy at all; just a few young chili shoots freshly picked from the plant added to a pot of boiling water, with a touch of our mother's loving "seasoning." Yet, throughout our childhood, it became the dish we craved most whenever it rained.

If sweet potato leaves, as my father said, "help with bowel movements," then chili leaf soup eaten in the afternoon would... expel worms from the stomach. Back then, with many siblings and a poor family, our parents didn't think about buying deworming medication regularly, but a pot of chili leaf soup was our "soup substitute for medicine." I don't know if that's true, but the hot soup, with its spicy kick and sweet broth, was incredibly delicious. On better days, my mother would add some beef, and the sweetness was indescribable; the children were overjoyed every time they encountered a piece of beef.

The hot soup, poured over rice, has a sweet taste and the distinctive aroma of young chili shoots. Occasionally, biting into a spicy chili pepper just beginning to open in the leaf axil reveals a pungent, intensely flavorful core that melts in your mouth, leaving everyone in the family with a light sweat, enjoying the meal both for its deliciousness and its spiciness.

Besides our signature dish: sweet potato leaves with chili peppers, fermented fish sauce and chili peppers are two condiments that are always readily available at home. My mother is from Central Vietnam, so almost everything she cooks is spicy. We always have a jar of pickled chili peppers to eat on rainy days. Especially to neutralize the fishy taste of the fermented fish sauce and to add a more enjoyable flavor to the meal, chili peppers are essential.

We kids from farming families all knew how to eat spicy food from a young age. But actually, everyone in the family understood: Eating chili peppers was just to trick the tongue, to deceive the taste buds, to forget the hardships of poverty!

The hardships of the past eventually passed. My mother's sweet potato leaves and chili peppers nourished us as we grew up. My father often laughed and said, "Those sweet potato leaves, chili peppers, and jars of fish sauce that your mother used to 'carry'... six university degrees."

But by the time the six graduates started working, the image of their mother diligently cooking simple, humble meals by the fire was gone.

My mother is gone, but the simple, humble dishes of our home will always remain in my heart. The longing is ever-present, never fading.

As time passed and we started our own families, we never stopped reminiscing about those days, remembering the flavors we felt when our mother was still alive. Occasionally, we try to find the ingredients and cook a meal with boiled sweet potato leaves, chili leaf soup, and a bowl of fermented fish sauce... just to feel like we're back with her.

These weren't gourmet dishes, but simple, rustic meals, cooked with the care and love of our peasant mothers. They were culinary masterpieces in the hearts of every child of a farming family.

...This October, with its relentless rain, I suddenly find myself missing my mother's cooking, missing the meals she waited for me to eat. Truly, the greatest blessing in life is still having my mother...

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