Cá Kèo Congee and Its Hearty Trio

Try cá kèo congee and two amazing fish varieties!

Fish and congee unite in a delightful dance of flavors throughout Vietnamese cuisine. Among many variations, three standout fish congees from different regions hold a special place in my heart: cháo ám, brown rice congee, and cá kèo congee.

Cháo Ám

A thin wisp of smoke gently rises from the pot of congee simmering on the stove. Small bubbles pop and dissolve on its smooth surface. The fragrant aroma of shallot and pepper blends with the earthy scent of rice and the faint sweetness of fish. Water celery, dill, and green mustard are clustered into small bundles by white, blanched shallot heads. Boiled pork belly, a perfect mix of lean meat and clear fat, adds to the delightful medley. Poached white fish patiently waits to meet the vibrant purple shrimp paste, enhanced with lemon, chili, and the unique essence of giant water bug.

The vivid picture above emerges from the instructions on how to cook cháo ám in the book Ẩm Thực Tu Tri, published in Hanoi in 1930 by Tan Dan Publishing House (p. 90). Author Vương thị Thu Hương meticulously describes the preparation and enjoyment of this congee, indicating it must have been highly esteemed at that time.

Nguyễn Tố, a student of the renowned gourmet and poet Tản Đà, mentioned that Tản Đà enjoyed eating cháo ám during the cold season and only used carp or emperor bream, as he disliked snakehead. Tan Da would leisurely pick up a piece of poached fish, dip it in shrimp paste, savor it with blanched vegetables, and then take a spoonful of hot congee. (Tan Da’s Food, Duy Tan Thu Xa Publishing House 1943, pp. 38-39)

Vũ Bằng, another gourmet, was even more particular: he preferred the semilabeo notabilis or cá anh vũ in Vietnamese for his cháo ám. Instead of shrimp paste, he favored high-quality fish sauce. He describes cháo ám in a way that makes our taste buds tingle: “Mix some toothpicks of pure giant water bug’s essence you’ve extracted yourself into good fish sauce with lemon juice and chili. Dip the fish in the sauce and savor it with a roll of water celery, dill, shallot, and congee. The deliciousness is so divine that even gods and demons can’t resist it. If they try a bowl, they’ll surely ask for another.” (Thương nhớ Mười Hai, Van Hoc Publishing House 1993, p. 36)

Meanwhile, in the South, author R.P.N. described cá ám in the Annamese Cookbook printed in Saigon. The fish head and tail are simmered in the congee, while the boneless middle piece, marinated with spices, shallots, sesame, lemongrass, chili, fish sauce, and peanuts, is tied in taro leaves and added to the pot. The congee includes a mix of rice, glutinous rice, and mung beans, seasoned with fish sauce, shallots, and pepper. Once cooked, the fish is scooped out and enjoyed with rice noodles, rice papers, and fresh herbs. The dipping sauce is fermented fish mixed with chili, vinegar, and shallots. Finally, savor the congee. (Tin Duc Thu Xa Publishing House 1929, p. 1)

Although cá ám is flavorful, few people cook it in the South today. However, in Tra Vinh, a congee called cháo ám has been popular since the early 20th century. The creamy, hot congee is poured over fragrant coriander and yellow ginger in the bowl. Pink squid and red dried shrimp are faintly visible. Boiled snakehead lies separately on the plate. Shrimp paste with lemon juice and chili has an alluring aroma, while the yellow fish sauce shimmers with bright red chili. The lush green vegetables include green mustard, water celery, bitter herb, bean sprouts, or pennywort in the summer. Especially notable are the additions of fermented soybean paste and roasted peanuts.

Finally, why does this congee have “ám” in its name? Tra Vinh locals humorously explain that mothers-in-law often challenge their daughters-in-law to cook this dish after marriage. Since it’s a tricky dish to master, it becomes a “nightmare” or “ám ảnh” for the girls, hence the name “ám.” Đại Nam Quấc Âm Tự Vị records “ám” as a Sino-Vietnamese word, defining it as “nấu ám: cook the whole fish thoroughly, in one piece, and cover with a lid.” (Huynh Tinh Cua, Rey, Curiol & Cie. Publishing House, 1895) This definition sounds like a more reasonable explanation for the word “ám” to me, and at least it spares future daughters-in-law from culinary nightmares.

Hue’s Brown Rice Congee 

If Tra Vinh mothers-in-law challenge their daughters-in-law with cháo ám, then Hue mothers-in-law are sure to test them with brown rice congee with braised sand goby. It’s a humble dish, not fancy, but cooking it well requires both love and patience.

It starts with good local rice, grounded just enough to remove husk, leaving a layer of nutritious dark red bran. This bran is quite tough, so brown rice congee must be gently simmered for about three hours. To Hue’s mothers, a pot of brown rice congee that is “well-cooked” looks like this: “Brown rice is cooked until it becomes very soft, with the rice milk turning thick and shiny with a pink hue. The rice grains bloom like delicate white grass flowers in a Bat Trang bowl or a simple earthenware bowl.” (Thai Kim Lan, Mai rồi mưa tạnh trong xuân, Kim Dong Publishing House 2019, p. 210)

The second challenge is to braise the sand goby. The sand goby from Tam Giang lagoon near Hue is only as big as a finger, with a big head and a small tail. After cleaning, don’t braise the fish immediately or you’ll face the wrath of tradition! The goby should be marinated with fish sauce, sugar, pepper, caramel, whole red chili, and thinly sliced pork fat for over an hour to let the flavors infuse. Braise the fish until they turn golden, their bodies curling up like the letter C. At this point, the fish earns the nickname “tail-looking fish” because it appears to bend over and look at its tail.

Dr. Thai Kim Lan, a native of Hue, despite being away for many years, still cannot forget the comforting bowl of brown rice congee she used to have for breakfast. She recalls: “The congee emanates the wholesome aroma of countryside rice, perfectly complemented by the braised fish, which dances between salty and sweet. The goby introduces its unique fragrance, while the unexpected zing of spicy chili tickles the tongue like a delightful high note in a symphony.” (ibid., p. 211)

Hue people relish savoring brown rice congee in the early mornings or late at night, finding it both delicious and gentle on the stomach. Due to the elusive nature of sand goby, they also braise tiny river shrimps to crispy perfection as a delectable side dish for the congee.

Cá Kèo Congee

In the Mekong Delta, the pseudapocryptes elongatus, known as cá kèo in Vietnamese, has experienced a remarkable transformation. Once considered a humble fish for the poor in the 1960s, it has become a coveted and pricey delicacy by the 2020s. In the past, the people of Vietnam’s Southwest would catch these fish from rivers or find them in the mud after draining water from the fields. With the natural population dwindling, farmers have now taken to raising them in ponds and rice fields to meet the demand.

Southwestern brides whipping up cá kèo congee may not need the delicate touch of Northern brides making cháo ám or the unending patience of Hue brides preparing brown rice congee, but there’s one vital skill they simply cannot overlook: mastering the art of cá kèo prep. 

These fish are ultimately slippery, slimier than an eel in a vat of jelly. The quickest way to get them squeaky clean? Rub them down with some ash before giving them a rinse. Once cleaned, leave them whole and hold off on any head or tail amputations – Southwestern mothers will consider that a culinary cardinal sin. Want your fish to be absolutely delish? Keep those heads and tails intact! 

Roasted rice blooms in the congee pot. Ginger, shallots, coriander, and pepper fill the air with their fragrant aroma. Bitter herbs, pennywort, and bean sprouts patiently await their turn. Cá kèo appears, capriciously jumping into the pot and swimming gracefully. The congee boils vigorously, cooking cá kèo quickly. The fish meat is soft and sweet, while the fish bile and liver add a touch of bitterness, and the fish fat provides a hint of richness. The warm congee, tasty fish, and crispy herbs linger on the tongue before reaching the stomach, warming one’s heart on a rainy and gloomy afternoon in the Southwest. Cá kèo congee is simple yet unforgettable.

Notice how these three fish congees offer a variety of culinary experiences? Cháo ám features fish served separately with herbs and dipping sauce, followed by the congee. Thick brown rice congee pairs perfectly with braised sand goby.  For cá kèo congee, the process is straightforward: just hold the blanched fish head down with chopsticks, separate the meat from the bones, drop it into the congee, and slurp away. These dishes embody the essence of Vietnam’s three distinct regions: the refined North, the profound Central, and the free-spirited South.

So, when savoring these congees, don’t just be a mere food enthusiast but elevate yourself to a true culinary critic! Each spoonful of congee is a poem, and every bite of fish is like a symphony, blending together to offer you the full experience of Vietnam’s flavors from North to South.

mlefood – Minh Le