Grilled Rice Cakes’ Kingdom

Where is the “kingdom” of grilled rice cakes?

Grilled Rice Cakes’ Story

I am a mixed-race child: my mother is Cham, my father is Kinh. Now, before you get too curious, let me clarify. My mother is a clay oven made in the renowned Bau Truc Cham pottery village in Ninh Thuan province, while I am a beloved dish of the Kinh people in Vietnam. Confused? Let me explain.

My hypothesis is that the first Kinh people to think of us were the Phan Rang folks living near Bau Truc. They looked at the Cham clay ovens and thought, “Why not try pouring our Kinh’s pancake batter into these clay molds instead of the usual cast iron ones?” The Kinh people collaborated with the Cham artisans to create the clay ovens and molds, then used the batter to make us. To top it all off, they served us with scallion oil and fish sauce, creating a perfect harmony of flavors. So, in a way, we are a delicious representation of cultural fusion and culinary creativity. 

Therefore, my name “bánh căn” stands out from other Vietnamese cakes. Some believe that I was originally called “căng” (meaning puffy), and over time, the letter “g” was lost, leaving “căn.” But I don’t buy that theory. I think my name comes from the Cham language. When the Cham people saw the Kinh making me, they commented that I looked like the moon and puffed up a lot. In Cham, both “moon” and “puffing” are pronounced “can” (read as “căn”) (Cham-Vietnamese Dictionary, Khoa hoc Xa Hoi Publishing House 1995, p. 46). The Kinh people liked the sound of it and decided to call me “bánh căn.”

From my hometown of Ninh Thuan, I began exploring the neighboring provinces of Khanh Hoa, Binh Thuan, and Lam Dong. My “kingdom” are these four provinces, and within my kingdom, I am a favorite. But when I ventured beyond my “kingdom,” few people knew who I was. They only recognized my brother Bánh Khọt (Vietnamese mini pancake). Bánh Khọt is fried in oil in a cast iron mold, completely different from me, as I am grilled without oil in a clay mold. In the 21st century, with the rise of the Internet and frequent travel, I am fortunate to be more widely known than before.

However, you can still distinguish my “long-time fans” from my “new fans” by listening to how they order. If they ask for “pieces” instead of “pairs,” they’re definitely not from my “kingdom”. In the past, we always came in pairs, although now, people often leave me on my own. Additionally, locals only enjoy us in the morning or afternoon, rarely at lunch.

To craft perfect Vietnamese grilled rice cakes, the secret lies in two things: batter and fire. First, you need to choose old, puffy rice. Soak the rice overnight and grind it, ideally with an old-fashioned stone hand-mill. Don’t forget to add some cooked rice before grinding. The batter shouldn’t be too thin or too thick – too thin and the cake will be soft and mushy, too thick and it will be hard.

I can only be made with a charcoal fire, and it must be good charcoal, burning long and strong. The charcoal, red hot at just the right temperature, will produce a batch of crispy, spongy, and delightfully puffy grilled rice cakes.

Our mother was quite big. She is a large, round clay oven, with a surface made of terracotta dotted with many holes for molds. Small ovens used in homes usually had 6 to 10 molds, while large ovens in eateries boasted up to 16 molds. The molds were black, shiny saucers after many days of being friends with flour and fire. The lids were also made of terracotta, round and protruding like little domes. The tricky “aunt” who often “plucked” us from our mother’s arms was a long, thin bamboo stick or stainless steel bar with a wide end and a thin blade, perfect for prying us cakes apart.

The batter is quickly scooped into the molds, each shallow mold only holding a little bit. Then our close friends arrive: some of us cradle chicken eggs, others hug quail eggs, whole tiny squids, or shrimps. Sometimes, even beef and minced meat make an appearance. This is all a 21st-century development but back in the 20th century, during tougher times, we didn’t have these fancy companions. Once everyone’s settled in, the lid is put on. The fire crackles in the oven, promising an exciting magic show.

And we were back – plump with white skin dotted with tiny holes, and a crispy golden crust that smelled delightful. Our “aunt” just needed to make one round and we would fly off our mother and onto the plate, ready for the eaters. The proper way to enjoy Vietnamese grilled rice cakes is to dip the entire cake into the sauce, letting it soak in, then chew and slurp some sauce. Therefore, our dipping sauces are usually less salty but always packed with flavor. Eggs, shrimps, and squids, combined with our dipping sauce and shredded mango – we’re a flavor-packed combo, poised to dazzle even the pickiest of food critics!

Although my “kingdom” consists of only four provinces, each province has its own unique way of enjoying grilled rice cakes. You have to pay close attention to notice the differences.

From Phan Rang to Da Lat

At my birthplace, Phan Rang, I am paired with sweet fish sauce, peanut sauce, and the broth of braised tuna with young melon. Only in Phan Rang can you find peanut sauce made from roasted peanuts and mashed pumpkin. I overheard some old customers reminiscing about the days when pumpkin was a key ingredient, but now people use only peanuts. The peanut sauce is light and rich, and when combined with us – chewy and spongy grilled rice cakes, it’s absolutely delicious.

Furthermore, only Phan Rang has braised tuna with young melon to accompany us. The braising pot simmers on the stove, the smoke rising with the fragrant smell of garlic and chili and the sweetness of young melon. Scoop a bowl of fish broth with a few pieces of braised tuna and young melon, dip the golden cake into the bowl, and eat. Do you find the flavors of fish, melon, and grilled rice cakes so harmonious and enchanting that it’s almost mind-blowing?

When traveling to the misty highlands of Da Lat, my mother and I become a source of comfort and warmth for travelers in the cold weather. Next to the red-hot oven radiating cozy heat, there’s a pot of delicious Vietnamese meatballs glistening with fat. Our outer layer is crispier than those from other provinces, so even after being submerged in the dipping sauce, we remain chewy and crispy.

To Khanh Hoa and Binh Thuan

There was a time when I thought I was born in Khanh Hoa because, before 2000, almost every family here had an oven making grilled rice cakes. My mother always occupied a humble place in the kitchen corner, but she was never covered in dust. Whenever friends or family gathered, my mother was taken out and cleaned carefully. From children to adults, everyone loved me because I was good, easy to eat, cheap, and delicious.

Besides the sweet fish sauce mixed with chili, garlic, lemon, and sugar, the sauce of fermented fish in Khanh Hoa is electrified with the sweet and sour taste of pineapple. The scallion oil used to be made from good pork fat. Now, pork fat has been replaced by cooking oil, making the scallion oil much less delicious. Furthermore, scallion oil used to be spread on the grilled rice cakes, making me fragrant with the smell of fat and scallion. Now that the scallion oil is kept separate, I don’t get that delightful aroma anymore. What a pity!

Khanh Hoa was probably the first place to pair shredded mangoes with me, likely thanks to the abundant supply of four-season mangoes from Suoi Tan commune. This initiative was embraced by eaters and has spread far and wide. Now, every eatery in the “kingdom of grilled rice cakes” serves mangoes with us. Four-season mangoes are crispy and slightly sour, excelling in their role as a stimulant to make everything else more delicious.

Binh Thuan is also a place that I love very much. In the old days, it was just us with crushed chili and garlic mixed with sugar, lemon juice, fish sauce and warm water. Or a broth of braised fish sauce made from mackerel, silver pomfret, tuna, or any cheap yet delicious fish. Each time an eater enjoyed one of us, they’d slurp some sauce. Nowadays, Phan Thiet’s dipping sauce has been upgraded, featuring meatballs, boiled eggs, pork skin, and more. We are also bustling with shrimp, squid, and eggs, just like in other places.

I live happily in my “kingdom” and now sometimes even “travel abroad” to other provinces. I consider myself quite lucky compared to some other traditional cakes because I am still living a healthy, happy life, not just a nostalgic memory. Therefore, I accept all changes and learn to adapt, even though I don’t always like those changes. 

Thank you for listening to my story, and welcome to our “grilled rice cakes’ kingdom.” We look forward to seeing you!

mlefood – Minh Lê