The Flavors of Tet

(Baonghean) - It's unclear when exactly the Lunar New Year, with its distinctive flavors, became ingrained in the Vietnamese psyche. These include the taste of pickled onions, the crispy, fragrant eggplant cakes made by the women of Hung Tan commune (Hung Nguyen district), or the exquisite pork terrine prepared by grandmothers, infused with love and care... These delicious dishes contribute to the rich flavor of the rural New Year, reminding those far from home to return for family reunions…

Members of the Cooperative in Hamlet 3 (Hung Tan, Hung Nguyen) making eggplant cakes. Photo: P. Ngan

Fragrant herbs, Hung Tan rice cakes

When the peach blossoms begin to bud, a visit to Hung Tan commune (Hung Nguyen district) will reveal a bustling and joyful atmosphere of welcoming the Spring in every home and every alleyway. Generations of grandparents, children, and neighbors gather together to make rice cakes and brew sticky rice wine. The fragrant aroma of rice cakes permeates from one end of the village to the other.

Ms. Nguyen Thi Dung, head of the women's association in Hamlet 3 and also the head of the hamlet's rice cake cooperative, warmly welcomed and treated guests to rice cakes and glutinous rice wine that she herself made. Taking a bite of the crispy, fragrant, rich, golden-yellow rice cake, followed by a sip of green tea, one feels the arrival of spring and reunion. Ms. Dung happily shared that, with readily available ingredients, Hung Tan is famous for its traditional craft of making glutinous rice wine and rice cakes…

No one knows exactly when Hung Tan's eggplant cake first appeared. All that is known is that for a very long time, around Tet (Lunar New Year), the women of Hung Tan have been preparing this special local treat for their families. As Tet approaches, everyone starts gathering the ingredients. From students to the elderly, young people and women alike roll up their sleeves, each doing a task, working in a kind of assembly line fashion – some beating eggs, others kneading dough… until the trays are filled with small, round, pretty candy pieces.

Mrs. Ho Thi Hoa, 74 years old, from Hamlet 2, was making "ca" cakes with her children and grandchildren, chatting that her "years" in making these cakes are almost as long as her life. She said that each time she makes "ca" cakes, she feels like she's pouring the love and soul of her rural hometown into each cake. I laughed, saying she was being poetic, but upon reflection, I realized she was right. Because "ca" cakes are made from glutinous rice – the essence of the countryside and village fields – plus eggs from free-range hens... All of this is kneaded by the hands of farmers... According to Mrs. Hoa, making "ca" cakes isn't difficult, but it requires skill and meticulousness in every step. The cakes are made from three main ingredients: glutinous rice flour, chicken eggs, and white sugar. Perhaps because each cake is small and pretty like a small eggplant, the locals named it "ca" cake. To make a batch of delicious, crispy, fluffy, and bright "ca" cakes, the baker must mix the ingredients in the correct proportions, knead thoroughly until smooth and pliable, and let it rest for the right amount of time. Before making the cakes, the glutinous rice must be ground into a very fine flour, then mixed with eggs in a ratio of 8-10 eggs per 1 kg of flour. The cakes must be rolled into perfectly round balls so that they cook evenly when fried. Making these cakes requires great concentration; when coating them with sugar to make them crispy, golden brown, and prevent the sugar from clumping, a consistent red flame is essential. High-quality cakes are those that offer a rich, subtly fragrant flavor, making you want to keep eating them without getting tired of them.

To maintain and develop the traditional craft, every year on the 3rd day of the Lunar New Year, the commune organizes a rice cake making competition, inviting guests to participate. The competition aims to find skilled and delicious cake makers, and especially to market and attract investment. Thanks to this, Hung Tan rice cakes have become a trusted source for consumers. After a period of familiarity, word spread about the village's fragrant, high-quality rice cakes, leading to orders from customers near and far. Hung Tan rice cakes are now available throughout Vietnam, both in the South and the North. Especially during the end of the year, the entire village works all day to meet pre-orders. Hung Tan rice cakes are also supplied to hotels and restaurants.

Today, the market offers an abundance of ready-made confectionery with attractive designs, many of which are both delicious and beautiful. However, the traditional rice cake still holds a special place in the hearts of people from the countryside and villages – the birthplace of this fragrant, rustic treat.

I remember my grandmother's pork head terrine.

For every person living far from home, the greatest longing during these last days of the year is to return home and reunite with family for a warm and loving New Year's meal. In my hometown, even though life is still lacking in many ways, every family tries to prepare a full, attractive, and delicious New Year's meal with traditional dishes such as braised sea fish with honey, chicken with lime leaves, braised pork, or pickled onions and cucumbers... But my favorite is the simple pork head terrine that my grandmother makes herself.

I remember back then, every year after the 23rd day of the 12th lunar month, when we bid farewell to the Kitchen God, the following afternoon I would see my grandmother hunched over in the kitchen, busily preparing pork head terrine. She would wash the pig's ears thoroughly with boiling water and a little salt, then put them in a pot with some crushed ginger and simmer over low heat. Once the pig's ears were cooked, she would slice them into thin strips and mix them with stir-fried wood ear mushrooms, roasted rice flour, cinnamon powder, and a few other prepared spices. She would then wrap them tightly in fresh green banana leaves, like small sticky rice cakes. In my hometown, the spring weather was still cold, but after a long night, these lovely pork head terrines would solidify, becoming firm and substantial.

My family's Tet feast became more abundant and rich thanks to my grandmother's homemade pork head terrine. The smooth, thinly sliced ​​pieces of terrine, neatly arranged on a porcelain plate, looked so appetizing! During the Tet holidays, I ate the terrine endlessly without getting tired of it. Dipping each smooth slice in chili sauce and eating it with some fresh herbs from our garden was simply wonderful. The crunchy, chewy sounds in my mouth were delightful. The rich, savory flavor lingered on my tongue. My grandmother watched me eat with such affection in her eyes. Each small slice of terrine contained all of her hard work and kind heart. Because she was old and her teeth were too weak to eat the terrine she had prepared herself, she smiled and said, "Seeing my children and grandchildren enjoy it so much makes me happy!" Suddenly, my eyes welled up with tears…

Then my grandmother passed away on a warm, sunny late spring day. When I returned from over two thousand kilometers away, she was already resting peacefully beneath the embrace of the soil of my homeland. I remember that before I left for the city to study, she was ill for several days. But when I asked her why, she tenderly held my hand and gently said, "It's just a minor illness. Don't worry, go to school. When you come home for Tet, I'll make you some pork sausage again." But that promise has now turned to green on the grass…

Almost a year has passed since my grandmother left me. On the 28th of Tet (Lunar New Year), I returned to my hometown. The village was joyfully welcoming the spring, yet my chest ached with a suffocating tightness. Stepping onto the moss-covered square tiles, I gazed towards the kitchen and suddenly longed for my grandmother's embrace. But all that remained was a memory. That afternoon, I took my mother to the market to shop for Tet. As we passed the meat stall, I whispered in her ear, "Mom, remember to buy an extra pound of pig's ears." My mother softly murmured "yes," her eyes, etched with the wrinkles of time, welling up with tears. That evening, revisiting those memories, I imitated my grandmother and diligently made pork head terrine.

On New Year's Eve, the pork head terrine I made solidified just like the one my grandmother used to make. Carefully slicing it into very thin pieces, I tenderly placed them on a blue glazed ceramic plate and offered them to my grandmother's altar: "Grandma, this is the pork head terrine I made myself. You're the first to taste it. If it's not to your liking, please don't criticize me, Grandma!" Suddenly, I saw in her photograph that she was smiling at me, kind and benevolent…

Pham Ngan - Phan Duc Loc