When they arrived in the new land, my parents didn’t have much money, only hard work and determination to build a new life. Almost every meal in those days consisted of fish sauce, pickles and eggplant.
During the dry season, my mother would display baskets of melons, eggplants, and papayas in the backyard, then wash them, drain them, and cut them into bite-sized pieces. Once they were done, she would put them in a basket and shake them until they were dry. My mother said that no matter what the ingredients were, the more carefully they were prepared, the longer they would last when mixed with fish sauce. After saying that, my mother spread the drained vegetables out on a bamboo basket to dry in the sun.
The pickles were dried until they were just wilted enough to absorb the fish sauce flavor. The jars of pickles were sealed tightly and used gradually over five to seven days. Whenever they ran out, my mother would make a new batch.
I still remember the image of my parents' bicycle with two jars of pickled vegetables hanging from it every time they went to the fields. On the red dirt road, the laughter of my grandparents blended with the sound of the highland wind.
During the rainy months, the landscape around the house was covered in a cold gray. The cold seeped through the walls of the shed, into the kitchen, and caused the papaya tree in the backyard to drop many fruits. Mom picked the papayas and processed them as usual.
I hurriedly scraped out the melon seeds, peeled the garlic, crushed the chili peppers, or got out the sugar jars and fish sauce jars. It rained all day, the fields were full of mud, and the work in the fields came to a halt.
During those cold days, my mother’s pickled cucumber and fish sauce was even more precious. It was the dish that helped my family cope with the pouring rain. Just a bowl of hot rice with pickled cucumber and fish sauce was enough to warm our hearts.
Every time she made fish sauce, my mother told me about her hometown in Quang Nam, where my grandparents were from. Gifts from the countryside such as a can of fish sauce, a melon or a can of malt were extremely precious to my parents.
There were not many vehicles at that time, and traveling between the Central Highlands and Quang Nam was not easy. Every time we received gifts from our hometown, the whole family was both happy and moved. Hometown food helped children living far away to ease their nostalgia for their homeland.
Time passed, and it was also the time when I left my small house in the Central Highlands to pursue my dreams. Every time I returned home, smelling the fish sauce and pickled vegetables, I felt indescribable emotions. It was not just the food, but also the memories. They made me grateful for the hard days, taught me how to save and appreciate what I had.
Watching my mother make fish sauce, I see the image of the past. Memories of the hot sunny seasons, the endless rains, my parents' hard work and the jars of fish sauce hanging on the old bicycle, are still intact.
Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/mam-dua-ca-man-ma-tinh-me-3146396.html
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