The taste of a broken banana bunch

Green bananas can be used to make many delicious dishes.

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In a land of much rain and much sun, Quang people worry about their meals until… the next year’s flood season. On sunny days, my father went around the neighborhood to dig up a few banana trees to plant. So that next year’s flood season would have something to cook for his children. The children giggled at their father’s worries. Little did they know that worries filled their father’s eyes and bent their mother’s figure.

I still remember the great flood in 1999, after the water receded, the fields and gardens were devastated. There was a bunch of broken bananas left, my mother chopped them up and put them in the corner of the kitchen. The wet wood and the acrid smoke filled the kitchen.

Mom went to the well, scooped water into an aluminum basin, added a pinch of salt and stirred until dissolved. Cut a few ripe bananas, peeled the skin and soaked them in a basin of diluted salt water to prevent the bananas from turning black during cooking. Washed the bananas and sliced ​​them thinly. Mom put a pan of peanut oil on the stove, sauteed some shallots, then added the bananas and stirred well, added a little water, covered the pot and simmered over low heat.

Taking advantage of this moment, my mother went to the well to see if there were any remaining betel leaves, picked them, washed them, and cut them into strips. In about ten minutes, the bananas were ripe, soft, and fragrant. My mother seasoned them to taste, sprinkled in the betel leaves, and took them down. The meal after the flood, there were no vegetables or meat, the stir-fried banana dish was simple but warm after several days of living in the flooded attic.

Now that I live in the city, whenever I go to the market I often look around for a vegetable stall that sells ripe bananas, but they are very rare. Occasionally, I buy a bunch of green bananas, and I stir-fry them with betel leaves.

Smell of memory

The smell of nostalgia is as humid as the changing seasons. Father has gone to the land of white clouds, the old garden no longer has the sound of rain pattering on banana leaves. The old mother knows that her children far from home miss their homeland, so when the opportunity comes, she cooks snails stewed with banana.

Strong flavor of braised snakehead fish with banana.

The field in front of the house had no black snails, only yellow snails remained. Mom bought a bunch of snails, soaked them in rice water overnight, then scrubbed them clean, took out the meat inside and removed the intestines. Mom carefully washed the snail meat with salt to remove the slime, then drained it. She cut the green bananas into pieces. Then Mom went to the garden to dig up the turmeric bushes, picked betel leaves, perilla, and picked a handful of chili peppers to wash.

Seeing my mother rummaging through the garden to pick spices and coriander, I love the delicious food from the elderly even more.

Mom said this dish needs turmeric to have a strong aroma and the snails won't have a fishy smell. The snails are marinated with shallots, fresh turmeric, crushed onions, seasoning powder, fish sauce, MSG, and pepper.

Put peanut oil in the pan, saute the garlic, add the snails and stir-fry until fragrant, then add a little boiling water and simmer over low heat, add bananas and cook until done, sprinkle with coriander, remove from heat and ladle into a bowl. Apple snails stewed with bananas are delicious with hot rice or noodles. One day, my father caught a snakehead fish, and my mother cooked a dish of stewed fish with bananas that was also very flavorful.

The rainy season has come again. Storms and floods no longer follow a fixed pattern in the strip of land that stretches towards the sea. For generations, for years, experiences in running away from floods and storms have been accumulated little by little, like the way my father planted a banana tree in the backyard on sunny days.

The day I heard the call “any anchovies?” from an acquaintance from Duy Hai, my mother hurriedly brought a basket to buy a few kilos to salt. The jar of salted fish sauce was saved for the rainy season.

The rains began to pass through the streets. From a familiar shop, Ngoc Lan’s voice was plaintive: “ Winter is coming to the city/ The afternoon is cold/ The cool breeze blows/ Stepping into the small attic/ Looking down at the park ”… (Winter is coming to the city - Duc Huy). In me, the taste of the broken banana bunch rose again. Worrying about the rainy season spares no one in this country…

Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/vi-cua-buong-chuoi-gay-3141934.html