Sesame salt and aroma of the stove
(Baonghean) - From the countryside to Hanoi to study, besides money, the things that his mother sent him every time he came home or when his acquaintances came back were still simple foods. Among them, there was always a bag of sesame salt that his mother had prepared.
During the rainy and flooded days, when my mother was busy with something and could not go to the market, for my family, the sesame salt mortar was still a familiar, delicious and convenient food. My mother kept the sesame seeds carefully in a barrel, after cutting them, she dried them and cracked the seeds. Over the years, the sesame salt mortar has been with me, with memories, joys and sorrows,...
Going back a little further in time, I was a small, skinny boy, following my father to the field, following my mother to the kitchen. When the afternoon winds blew away the smoke from the kitchen, the cold began to creep into my thin shirt. After a long, rotten rain, my mother stayed home to cook rice, boil water and clean up, I followed my father to the field, with a newly whittled string. The water had flooded the fields, even the sweet potato beds. My father and I followed the banks and ditches to look for crickets that had just lost their burrows and hidden in the grass. After wandering around for about an hour, we had a long string of crickets for dinner.
When I got home, it was just dusk. October gets dark quickly. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I immediately smelled the familiar aroma of roasted sesame. Mom was roasting a batch of sesame on the stove. Perhaps for the rest of my life, I will never forget that fragrant, fatty sesame smell. It was gentle and familiar. Leaving Dad alone with the cricket skewers and stir-fried crickets, I clung to Mom's roasted sesame until it was put into the mortar and pounded. I often busily pounded sesame salt. The sesame seeds themselves were already small and delicious, so there was no need to pound them. But pounding them a little, the sesame seeds gave off a fragrant aroma...
Add a little salt, a little sugar after pounding, the sesame salt mortar becomes a rich dish. I take a handful of sesame salt and put it in my mouth, chew slowly to feel the salty taste of salt, the sweet taste of sugar, the fragrant taste of roasted sesame mixed together. Mom looks at me, usually just smiles, doesn't say anything. Although the pleasure of eating first is not good, it has followed me throughout my childhood. The wood fire crackles, the smoke blows against the wind into Mom's eyes, my eyes sting. But my heart in those days seems to know no worries. Just struggling with the sesame salt mortar, with the stories about the fields that Mom tells by the fire. Outside, the rain and wind still rush in...
My sisters and I grew up with the hardships of our family, but perhaps the most precious thing that not everyone has is the love of our parents, the joy of being with sweet potatoes, cassava, with familiar, salty, familiar dishes. With a bowl of sesame salt on a cold rainy afternoon, it seems to carry the soul of the farming village in it. Then, its characteristic aroma fills my soul with sweet memories... That aroma reminds me of a warm home, of the love my parents have given me, of constantly trying to improve but not losing my own value.
Another rainy season has come, my mother still makes sesame salt like every other rainy season. It is not as difficult as before, but my mother still insists on cooking dinner with a wood stove. Perhaps that is the luck of my life. When most of the surrounding houses have completely switched to gas stoves and electric stoves. Modern life forces people to adapt to new things that are more convenient and less time-consuming. The sesame salt mortar for many people in my neighborhood is now a memory deep in the past. But for my family, the red fire stove in the evening and the sesame salt mortar in the cold day meal are still preserved...
Nguyen Thanh Giang(CTV)
