A summer siesta

Hanh Minh Nguyen
Aug 26, 2017 · 3 min read

I only figured out this one little thing after about two months moving to Saigon from a northern town. Back there, many things we do differently than “they” do here in the South. But there’s this one thing, this one little thing, when it dawned on me I felt like an epiphany: this city seems to never sleep, at noon.

I bet there are many Saigonese who take a nap, but in the air you can always hear some sounds: the dog barking, some woman calling her kids, or just motorbikes constantly roaming past your house. The vibrant life is present in every single minute on this land. Hey, I love Saigon for how it is, like a dreamer falling in love with a dreamer. But then, I also miss this about my little hometown: the priceless silence at noon, when everyone seems to be falling deep in siesta, and time seems to just stop. The alleys are clear of traffic; people who walk past your house would intentionally lower their voices for fear of waking up the whole street; even the butterflies would stop flapping for a good one hour of holy mid-day break. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but you get my point: Hanoi takes a nap, while Saigon doesn’t.

Saigon, moreover, actually has no summer. When you wake up every-single-day to a sunny day, embraced by the warm air, how would a summer make a difference? Back in the North, the first day of summer was always something special. It’s when summer breezes replace the drizzling rain; when the fresh, earthy scent caresses my olfaction; and then the most distinctive sign of all: my mom would come home from the market with tossa jute — the summer-has-come combo is officially complete.

I believe you have not tasted Vietnamese summer if you haven’t tasted the jute leaves soup with crabs. The soup is kind of slick, which would slip right down your throat with little effort to swallow — that is how the heat of summer is cooled down, replaced by a satisfying feeling that is hard to describe. Complimented for the soup are the sweet-salty sauté pork, and then the light sourness from pickled garden eggs. I could already picture my dad bringing the smoking hot pot from the stove to the dine table, proudly presenting to the whole family the fabulous hot soup; and then we would be in deep silence for a good ten minutes, for everyone would be so engrossed in enjoying the summer treat.

And now, as we’re finished, we’re all set for a long, peaceful siesta. Something I never thought would be a luxury when I grow out of childhood, and leave home. But at least, I could bring this classic summer lunch with me.

Origin: North

Popularity: 5/5

Season: Summer

Home-cooked or Restaurant: Home-cooked is much, much better. Some restaurants can pull off the feels and chills to a degree, but at a much higher cost than it should be.

Places to try: Mâm Bạc in Ho Chi Minh City.

(Restaurant recommendations are based on my own experience; and I don’t eat out for Vietnamese food much, so please leave your own recommendations, I would really appreciate!)


Originally published at http://eatlikeavietnamese.wordpress.com on August 26, 2017.

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Hanh Minh Nguyen

Written by

I am a dreamer struggling in a world full of people lacking imagination.

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