Vietnamese Americans living abroad remember 'squid pancakes better than any other specialty'

1. Many people in Saigon say that now, if you go to the market with 2,500 VND, you don't know what to buy. You'll probably get a lollipop. But with that same 2,500 VND, in Ninh Hoa, you can buy a fragrant banh xeo with full flavor of the countryside. Eat it once and you'll never forget it. You'll want to go back and eat it again no matter where you go.

But more specifically, early in the morning, we called each other to go to Doc Let to swim and have breakfast with the most delicious squid pancakes in the world.

Doc Let beach has clear blue water, warm all year round. There are no strong winds, big waves, just gently sloping from the shore, swimming without fear of sinking your feet, slipping and slipping away. The Central region is sunny all year round, especially at the sea. So people often go swimming very early. At only four o'clock, the sea is already full of people. Exercising, soaking in the salty water, relaxing the muscles and bones, all skin and bone diseases gradually recover. When the sun just appears in the East, they get back on the bus, before the sun burns their skin, blackens it.

We went swimming later because we were still worried about sleeping. On the way down, you called to buy two kilos of fresh squid, just caught from the sea. If there was a lot, one kilo was 150,000 VND. When there wasn’t much squid, the price went up to 250,000 VND. They would take the capsules, clean them. You took them to a friend’s banh xeo shop and put them in the fridge. When you finished swimming, you could go back up and have something to eat right away.

After many years away from home, the roadside banh xeo stalls with clay ovens, burning coal, and six iron molds seem to be unchanged over time. The longer the mold is made, the blacker the mold, the more golden the cake becomes. The five-number old rice is soaked until soft, mixed with burnt rice, ground, and mixed with water to make flour. The long-time sellers are very good at mixing the flour. They try to scoop a ladle, hold it up high, then slowly pour it into the basin. Just looking at it is enough to know if the flour is thick, medium, or thin. The flour must be made from old rice that has been left for a long time, the cake will be soft and delicious, because new rice flour will make the cake soggy. Hometown banh xeo does not have turmeric powder, so it is not golden brown, but ivory white, keeping the original color of rice flour. People do not call it pouring or frying the cake, but calling it "duc banh xeo". Just hearing the two familiar words "duc banh" is enough to know that the people of Ninh Hoa are purebred.

Ninh Hoa people eat banh xeo with bean sprouts grown on river or sea sand, skinny and long, with a refreshing taste, not like bean sprouts that are plump and round due to chemical fermentation. To be more luxurious, they eat it with shredded kohlrabi. I still like to mix the two together. It is both sweet and crunchy. They also rarely eat banh xeo with diluted fish sauce and a few pickles, but eat it with fragrant shrimp fish sauce. It has nothing to do with the type of fish sauce eaten with vermicelli and fried tofu in the North, but is cooked with very diluted fish sauce mixed with cold water, mixed with minced pork and shrimp, adding a little shrimp color, seasoning to taste and then cooking.

To make it delicious, you have to eat it with a plate of raw vegetables including lettuce, herbs, white basil, perilla, and sometimes bitter herbs. When eating, they don't break the rice paper into a cabbage leaf and dip it in fish sauce like people in the South, but put the rice paper and vegetable stalks on a plate, pour in the fish sauce, mix it and then stir-fry. Otherwise, mix it with fish sauce, chili, garlic and raw vegetables, roll it in rice paper, wrap it in banana leaves and take it home, and bite while walking.

People here eat banh xeo regardless of morning, noon, evening, or even in the scorching heat of the sun or the endless rain. There are banh xeo shops that have been passed down from grandmother to mother, and now to their children. The stone plates and bowls are still intact. The cast iron bowl that holds the flour is still shiny after many years. The ladle used to scoop the flour is half worn out and the stretcher is shiny from decades of handling it. The beauty of Ninh Hoa shops is that no matter how many years have passed, the taste and smell never change. They have become an unforgettable memory for many people far from home who have once stopped by.

After a good swim in the sea, hungry, we went to sit down. The owner smiled and welcomed us. Your grandmother was almost ninety, hunched over, with white hair, age spots, and trembling limbs, but she still helped her daughter sell cakes. As soon as she saw her nephew, she smiled brightly. She ordered someone to go inside and get the basket of squid. Everyone scooped fish sauce, added chili, scooped up a plate of vegetables, and waited with chopsticks. Because the cakes come with squid, there would be a lot of fat. The price was an extra thousand. But that was okay, three and a half thousand each was cheap as hell. As long as it was delicious, that was fine.

Grandma picked up a few pieces of fat and put them in the mold, flipped them over and over, threw in some fried green onions to make them fragrant, scooped in three or four fresh squids and then scooped in a ladle of batter. It sizzled really well. The older sister added a pinch of bean sprouts and mixed it with the tamarind. Covered the lid. After about two minutes, she took it out. The cake was done. Just looking at it made me swallow my saliva. If you eat it too soft, scoop it out right away. As for me, I wanted it crispy so I waited a little longer.

In the middle of summer, the wind was still. It was early in the morning but it was insanely hot. The corrugated iron roof above could not block the terrible heat. The blazing fire next to it added to the heat. But when the fragrant smell of squid pancakes rose up, my mouth watered, all the heat and heat of the world had to stop. I put the pancake on a plate, poured in the fish sauce, mixed it with chopsticks, added some raw vegetables, brought it up, took a deep breath, then slowly tossed the soft, crispy pancake, letting the richness of the rice flour, the pungency of the onion, the fatty taste of the fat, the richness of the fish sauce, the sweetness of the squid sauce, accompanied by bean sprouts and chewy kohlrabi with the smell of sea sand, mixed with a little spicy taste of chili and garlic and a bunch of fresh green vegetables that lingered forever.

Bite a piece of squid. Squeak. The meat is sweet and fresh.

Don't vomit, don't rush. Eat slowly and leisurely. Don't move your chopsticks around like a common man. Let the delicious taste of the cake permeate every cell of your tongue and lips, slowly flowing down your throat.

The heat seemed to magically spread throughout the body. In an instant, my stomach gradually warmed up, tears and snot all wanted to flow out, in the middle of a hot day. I just realized that the rustic pancake contained so much of the essence of the land, rivers, seas, and fields of this land, mixed with the talent of the mother and daughter of the restaurant owner, making the migrant fall in love, even before leaving, he already felt nostalgic.

I have traveled all over the world, from Asia to Europe, but I have never seen a pancake like the one with fatty pork and fresh squid from my hometown. It is more delicious than any other specialty in this world.

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/viet-kieu-my-doi-thien-di-nho-banh-xeo-muc-ngon-hon-bat-ki-dac-san-nao-1851489115.htm