Forever remembering the bowl of cabbage soup with perch and ginger during the evacuation
When I was a child, I followed my mother to evacuate to my hometown by the Day River, staying at Uncle Nghien's house. On the first rainy days of the season, perch from the pond swam up to the dirt yard - Uncle Nghien, my mother's older sister, urged her cousins to follow the children in the village to bring baskets to catch perch to cook perch soup with ginger.
I am a girl and have sharp eyes, so whenever I see water, I point it out to the boys to catch. The boys catch small perch with black backs and sharp fins and put them in bamboo baskets tied across their waists. I also get a share and wear the basket like the country children, happily carrying it home to cook soup.
Ba Nghien poured the basket of perch we brought home. Ba washed the fish, tossed it with salt, then clamped it with bamboo and grilled it on a straw stove until it sizzled, filling the kitchen with a fragrant aroma. When the fish was done, he scaled it, removed the meat and set it aside. The bones were crushed, and the broth was filtered. Then Ba went out into the garden in the rain to pick a large head of mustard greens, and added a fragrant piece of ginger. A few minutes later, the pot of perch and mustard green soup was boiling, the smell of grilled fish, fresh mustard greens, and crushed ginger mixed together, making the hungry children swallow their saliva.
That day, there was no fish sauce, no MSG. There was only coarse salt, green cabbage, tilapia and a piece of ginger. Yet the pot of soup was surprisingly delicious. The deliciousness of a time of hardship, of expectation, of Mr. Nghien's hand.
Back in the city, my mother and then my wife often cooked the cabbage and perch soup with ginger. Both of them cleaned it thoroughly, meticulously, and made every step with precision - but I still remember the pot of perch soup that rainy day that year.
That's why last month, a group of university friends, each going their separate ways, had the opportunity to gather in Hanoi . After a lively greeting, everyone decided on the menu, and the traditional dish of perch soup with ginger was chosen.
But the restaurant brought up a bowl of tilapia soup with ginger. After taking a spoonful, everyone frowned because the fish meat was soft, smelled of mud, and tasted like MSG. They probably used industrially raised tilapia, pre-processed, stored in the refrigerator... and cooked when a customer ordered. The ginger was big and not as fragrant as our ginger...
Later, a new friend told me that the meat of industrial tilapia is not as fragrant as wild tilapia. That is because: The dense farming environment, the use of industrial feed and possibly growth stimulants - makes the fish meat more fishy and tasteless than wild fish.
Similarly, old Vietnamese ginger (also known as ginger) is inherently more delicious than hybrid ginger due to many factors, including the variety, planting method, and preservation. Vietnamese ginger is rich in essential oils and aromatic compounds - and is not crossbred to increase productivity like hybrid ginger. Vietnamese ginger is grown in suitable land, in a temperate climate, and cared for using traditional methods - so the flavor accumulates naturally. After harvest, Vietnamese ginger is preserved manually to retain its characteristic aroma.
In addition, the taste depends on each person's taste, but tilapia and ginger are still popular. In short, the deliciousness of tilapia and ginger depends on the way they are raised, grown, and preserved - and also on the user's perception.
Once, listening to Ms. Vu Thi Tuyet Nhung - Admin of Ha Thanh Huong Xua Vi Cu - sharing a dish of cabbage soup with perch and ginger, Hanoians are meticulous in their eating habits. Among the sophisticated and strange Chinese and Western dishes - they still feel warm in a bowl of rustic soup imbued with mother's love and hometown's love. A delicious dish is not only about the right ingredients, but also about the way people take care of and cherish that dish. A pot of rustic soup cooked with love, with memories - a package of frozen tilapia and a spoonful of MSG poured in hastily cannot compare:
Catfish soup with ginger and cabbage
If it's not good, don't criticize it...
That song, like a gentle declaration: this dish is memory, is homeland, is the heart of Vietnamese women. Therefore, if you criticize this simple dish - then criticize very gently. Because, in it there is childhood, there is love, and memories that are difficult to name...
A pot of perch soup on a rainy day makes people remember it forever. Photo from the internet
My mother's old recipe for ginger and perch soup
Ingredients for ginger and perch soup:
Perch: 500g (or clean, non-fishy tilapia);
Mustard greens: 1 large bunch (best is Mo mustard greens or Lang mustard greens)
Ginger: 1 small branch
Spices: salt, fish sauce, ground pepper.
How to make ginger and perch soup:
Prepare fish: Shake fish with coarse salt, leave for 10 minutes to release slime. Remove scales, gut, wash thoroughly.
Boil fish: Boil water, add a little salt and then put fish in. When fish is cooked, remove and drain.
Filter the fish meat: Remove the meat and fish eggs (if any), being careful not to crush them. Crush the fish bones, filter with the fish broth to get the broth.
Marinate fish meat: Mix fish meat with a little fish sauce and ground pepper.
Prepare vegetables: Pick young leaves from cabbage, wash, cut into bite-sized pieces. Crush ginger.
Cook soup: Boil the filtered broth, add the vegetables first. When the vegetables are just cooked, add the ginger. Finally, add the marinated fish meat into the pot. Season with a spoonful of good fish sauce. Remove the pot of soup from the heat and serve hot.
Source: https://giadinh.suckhoedoisong.vn/cach-nau-canh-cai-ca-ro-voi-gung-khong-tanh-lai-het-mui-bun-mon-xua-dam-da-tinh-me-tinh-que-trong-toi-172250714161740272.htm
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