Fish sauce hotpot and a memory of the West

There are dishes that not only fill the stomach but also connect the soul with dear memories. For me, Western fish hotpot is not simply a simple meal but the taste of drizzling rains, of warm human affection and cozy afternoons by the fire in my hometown.

That was the first time I visited my university friend’s hometown – a short trip but left a lasting impression on me. My friend invited me to eat the “famous” fish sauce hotpot of his hometown, talking excitedly about linh fish sauce, snakehead fish sauce, wild vegetables… I was both curious and a little hesitant, because since childhood I was afraid of the “unpleasant” smell of fish sauce.

That afternoon, it rained. The persistent rain in the West made the whole space seem to freeze. In the small kitchen, the fish sauce hotpot on the stove began to boil, steam rising, carrying a characteristic aroma, not strong but rich, salty, with a hint of spicy lemongrass, a bit of the richness of the fish sauce cooked with coconut water. While tending the fire, your mother said: “The hotpot broth is the soul of the fish sauce pot, my child. The fish sauce must be of good quality - linh fish, fresh red snakehead fish, filtered carefully, only the broth, removing all the bones and residue. Cooked with coconut water for natural sweetness, add crushed lemongrass for fragrance. Only then will the hotpot broth be rich, mild, fragrant but not harsh. Salty like the land of the West.”

I looked at the pot of hot pot broth, light, with the characteristic brown color, and the faint aroma of lemongrass, chili, and fish sauce, as if there was something very strange yet very familiar.

Fish sauce hotpot - a unique culinary culture of the Western people.

On the round tray, the side dishes were fully displayed: crispy golden-brown roasted pork; goby fish, freshwater shrimp, squid, fresh octopus; eggplant, straw mushrooms... But what I enjoyed the most was the basket of wild vegetables - the way Westerners call rustic wild vegetables such as: purple water lily, water mimosa, bitter vegetables, sesban flowers, chives... Each vegetable has a flavor: slightly sour, crunchy, slightly bitter, sweet, gathering the whole West in a basket of rustic vegetables.

Seeing that I was still hesitant, my friend smiled: "In the past, I was also afraid of fish sauce, but now I love it. When I was studying in Hanoi , I craved it so much that I asked my mom to send me fish sauce." I laughed, then tried to pick up goby fish and a bunch of water lilies and dip them into the boiling pot of water. The aroma wafted from the kitchen, strong, spicy, with hints of lemongrass and fish sauce. The first bite into my mouth, the fish was soft, not fishy; the vegetables were crispy, fresh; the rich fish sauce taste slowly melted in my mouth, not strong but sweet, with a bit of spicy warmth on the tip of my tongue. I exclaimed and picked up more, suddenly feeling strangely warm inside.

Outside, the rain was still falling steadily. Inside, the fire was smoldering, laughter was bustling around the dinner table. The smell of the fish sauce hotpot seemed to awaken not only the taste buds but also a region of dormant memories of peaceful countryside afternoons, of family love and unspoken bonds. My friend’s mother looked at me with gentle eyes: “Fish sauce is the soul of the West, my child. Without fish sauce, it would not be called home. This dish is not just for eating, but for remembering, for gathering.”

From that time, I understood more about the land, the sincere and affectionate people of the West and the rustic dishes full of affection. Fish sauce hotpot - a seemingly ordinary dish but encapsulating the aroma of the fields and wind, the kindness and sincerity of the villagers. A dish that not only makes people remember the taste but also the people and places they have been to.

According to the People's Army

Source: https://baoangiang.com.vn/lau-mam-va-mot-mien-ky-uc-mien-tay-a424878.html