Miss the taste of mom's pancakes

When I was little, my sisters and I were always excited whenever my mother said that she would make banh xeo tomorrow. My mother was skillful and could make any cake she made delicious. My favorite was my mother's golden, fragrant banh xeo.

When I was a student, my family was poor, my parents had to work hard to make ends meet and send their two children to school. We had two meals a day, and if there was a little meat or fish, we were happy, but we didn’t get to enjoy cakes and fruits like the children of wealthy families. Occasionally, my mother would make us pancakes. My sister and I, 7 years old and 6 years old, wished our family was rich so we could eat many delicious dishes, especially pancakes.

Banh xeo with shrimp, meat, bean sprouts and cassava.

Then the happy day came, the day my mother made banh xeo to treat the whole family. Early in the morning, my mother measured 4 cans of rice, washed and soaked them, then went to the market to buy shrimp, meat, bean sprouts, and raw vegetables. When my mother came back from the market, the soaked rice in the basin was soft, so she started grinding the flour. I helped my mother grind by scooping each spoonful of rice and water into the grinder.

Once I asked my mother to let me try grinding flour, but no matter how hard I tried, the stone mortar would not budge, while my mother only needed to move her hand for the mortar to turn smoothly. While grinding flour, my mother said to me: “This stone mortar has been around since your grandmother’s time, it is a keepsake that she has kept for more than ten years, it is very heavy, if you don’t know how to do it, you can’t turn it, wait until you grow up and I will show you how to do it.”

The atmosphere when my whole family gathered together to make banh xeo was very happy. I helped my mother grind the flour, my father pick the vegetables, and my younger brother peel the shrimp to make the filling. Every time my mother made banh xeo, she used different ingredients, sometimes shredded cassava with pork belly and silver shrimp, sometimes she used coconut tubers, sometimes fresh shredded bamboo shoots stir-fried, it was delicious. What I liked most was the banh xeo filling with water mimosa flowers. The water mimosa flowers in my hometown often bloom when the water rises, my mother rowed a boat to pick the water mimosa flowers the afternoon before to make the cake the next morning.

This time, Mom made the filling for the pancakes with shrimp, pork belly stir-fried with bean sprouts and cassava. It took her all morning to grind the flour, but she brought the pot of flour into the kitchen, picked the green onions, washed them, chopped them, and added them to the pot of flour. Mom added a little turmeric powder to the pot of flour, saying that doing so would give the pancakes a nice golden color. Shrimp and pork belly were thinly sliced and stir-fried until cooked.

Golden, crispy pancakes with the sweetness of shrimp and the fat of pork belly, served with raw vegetables and sweet and sour fish sauce.

Finally, the preparation was complete, the sweet and sour garlic chili fish sauce was prepared by my mother to eat with the pancakes, all that remained was to pour the pancakes. The first batch of flour poured into the pan was carefully coated by my mother, the sound of the frying batter sizzling loudly, I asked my mother: "Mom, why is it called pancakes?". My mother smiled and said: "Maybe because when pouring the flour into the pan it sizzled, so it is called pancakes". Until now, I still do not understand why the dish is called pancakes. My sisters and I like it best when the first pancakes come out of the oven. My mother said that the pancakes are delicious when you pour them, so my sisters and I gathered around the kitchen, my mother was constantly pouring pancakes while my younger brother and I ate and exclaimed: "So delicious, mom".

Afraid that the hot cake would burn my hands, my mother put the cake on a plate. We rolled the cake, put vegetables in it, and dipped it in fish sauce. The cake my mother made was always golden brown and crispy, with the sweetness of shrimp and the fatty taste of pork belly. There was nothing better than eating it with raw vegetables and dipping it in sweet and sour fish sauce. From the familiar taste of the galangal leaves to the astringent, sour taste of the mango and coc shoots that lingered on the tip of the tongue, the flavor of the banh xeo was unforgettable. My mother looked at me and smiled, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Just like that, my sisters and I ate banh xeo until we were full.

Time passed, my sisters and I grew up, had stable jobs, and lived up to our parents' ambition of becoming useful people for society. This afternoon it was raining, passing by the banh xeo shop, I missed home, craving my mother's banh xeo, suddenly my eyes were stinging because now all my sisters and I have to work far from home, and cannot be near our parents.

Every time I return home, my mother makes me banh xeo to eat. It has been more than twenty years, and my mother's banh xeo is still as delicious as anywhere else. Because for me, banh xeo is not only a food that appeals to the taste buds but also a dish that evokes nostalgia. Somewhere in my memory, there is the dear image of my parents, the bond between my sisters and I during the poor years. That place is home, a solid spiritual support, a motivation for me to live happily and do good deeds.

Article and photos: CAM TU

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