Happy Crackers: Banh Phong and others

Vietnam’s crackers: a timeless tradition, ever-evolving and thriving.

Vẽ crackers

Chi Nam Ngoc Am giai nghia, Vietnam’s inaugural Sino-Nom lexicon from the 16th century, paints a picture of “Vẽ cake” with a pair of evocative lines: 

“Vẽ cake crafted with finesse, 

Stand as famed as their scholars of high repute.” 

(Annotated by Tran Xuan Ngoc Lan, Khoa hoc Xa hoi Publishing House 1985, p. 117)

The term Vẽ, “drawing” in Vietnamese, lends this cake its intriguing moniker. And what connection does it share with “scholars of high repute”? The answer unveiled itself on an auspicious day.

Originating from Vẽ village, now part of Bac Tu Liem district in Hanoi, this confection was so delectable that it became an annual tribute to the King with the name Vẽ cake. The village, also known as Dong Ngac, was renowned for its residents who attained doctorate in royal examinations and held high-ranking mandarin positions. This is the reason behind the association of Vẽ cake with “scholars of high repute”. But one might wonder, what did this cake look like?

To craft the cake, sticky rice needed to be pristine, devoid of husks and grit. Once meticulously washed, it bathed in nước bấc, a concoction steeped with a quintet of herbs: betel leaves, locust fruit, giant taro, abelmosk bark, and soft rush grass. The rice was then steamed in voluminous pots. 

Village men, their muscles taut, wielded wooden pestles to pound steamed rice into a silken texture. The rhythmic cadence of pestles resonated, marking time late during the final lunar month for Tet preparations, and again when the second lunar month ushered in the village festival. 

Women whose heads were adorned with crow’s beak scarves deftly rolled the dough, stretched it thin, and sliced it into neat squares. Young women, clad in round-neck blouses and black skirts, swiftly arrayed the pieces on bamboo mats as a huge deck of cards and set them out to bask in the sun. The cakes demanded ample sunlight to ensure puffing up uniformly when kissed by the heat of fat.

The flames danced merrily around the ember’s warm glow. Hefty skillet slowly came to temperature. Each morsel of cake took a leap into the pan, sinking blissfully before resurfacing, plump and glistening. They reclined on bamboo racks to shed excess oil, then were cloaked in a molasses glaze. Ivory-white crackers adorned with strands of golden honey were crisp and carried the distinctive scent of nước bấc.

Alas, the art of crafting Vẽ crackers in Vẽ village has faded into history. The cherished recipe for nước bấc, once the cakes’ secret leavening agent, has slipped away. Yet, the village’s legacy of scholarship endures, as steadfast as in days of yore.

Laughing cracker Peng khua and Khau xen

In the Northwest highlands of Vietnam, Tay and Nung ethnic groups craft peng khua as a herald of New Year. Each locality infuses its unique essence into the sticky rice. Trang Dinh in Lang Son province favors the ash of jute and banana leaves, while Bac Kan province opts for the essence of water hyacinth leaves. As steamed rice is pounded, mashed eddo and rice wine are woven in for leavening. The persistent ‘thud, thud’ of wooden pestles striking rhythmically creates a melody of tradition, transforming the rice into a smooth elastic dough.

The dough, pliant as taffy, receives a dusting of glutinous rice flour to ward off stickiness. Rolling pin works back and forth, flattening the dough into a large circular base. Iron and bamboo knives dance in tandem, slicing the base into strips as long as an adult’s index, while the remnants are fashioned into charming little squares. These pieces then embark on a three-day journey of drying in gentle shade, awaiting their moment of completion.

The cakes sizzle as they greet the greased pan atop a hot stove. Nearby, another pan of molasses is ready for a sweet embrace. The tray overflows with puffed crackers, their honeyed hue glistening. Children eagerly snatch them up, savoring each bite, their laughter ringing out in joyous chorus. Some believe this mirth gave rise to the name peng khua or laughing crackers. Others attribute it to the crackers’ merry pop and crackle in the heat, like the sound of chuckles.

In Vietnam’s Northeast, Thai community treasures khau xen, a term that translates to “cut rice”. It is made by pounding steamed sticky rice with eggs, then flavoring it with salt or sugar. The dough is rolled out paper-thin, snipped into bite-sized morsels, and left to dry. Khau xen is also fashioned from cassava tubers, offering a distinct texture. Setting it apart from peng khua, khau xen exchanges the sugar coat for three different flavors – sweet, savory, and neutral.

Khau xen has flourished as a commercial treasure in Muong Lay, Dien Bien. Crafted from either sticky rice or cassava, it boasts a kaleidoscope of colors, thanks to natural dyes derived from red spiny gourd and magenta leaves, which introduce vibrant reds and purples to the classic yellow and white hues. The cornerstone of its market triumph hinges on maintaining hygienic standards and employing astute marketing strategies. 

Banh Phong: Southwest’s crackers  

In the thirteen provinces of Southwest Vietnam, banh phong is a household name. It’s not just a festive treat for Tet; it’s an everyday indulgence that’s both affordable and scrumptious.

As unpretentious as Southwest people, banh phong is a testament to simplicity. Sticky rice infused with yeast is steamed then pounded with coconut milk, sugar, and a dash of soybean powder – its puffiness’s secret. The dough is shaped into generous round cakes and left to air dry. Whether savored in its raw state where it’s sweet and supple or grilled to get a crispy finish, banh phong is a treat you’ll find yourself reaching again and again.

Famed across the Southwest, bánh phồng from Sơn Đốc (Hưng Nhượng commune) in Bến Tre province enjoys a longstanding reputation. The locals are selective when choosing nếp sáp—a rich and starchy sticky rice indigenous to the Mekong Delta—and dừa rám—the perfectly dried coconut. They also incorporate other local ingredients to create a spectrum of flavors. Their products entice with sweet banana filling, golden mung beans, or a balanced sweet-salty fusion with aromatic shallots.

Cassava-based bánh phồng may not puff up as much as their sticky rice counterparts, yet they are notably versatile. They readily pair with everything from aromatic pandan leaves and luscious durian to succulent jackfruit, and even an array of seafood such as shrimp, squid, and oysters. 

The star among them is undoubtedly shrimp crackers. “Sa Giang shrimp crackers” brand, which originated in the 1960s in Sa Dec, has stood the test of time and continues to thrive. A savory blend of tapioca flour, baking powder, eggs, pureed shrimp, and spices is shaped into tubes, steamed then sliced into petite round cakes and dried. Upon frying, these crackers swell up, exuding a mouth-watering shrimp aroma with a delightful crispness. Vietnamese salads are quick to favor shrimp crackers when grilled rice paper is elusive.

The Southwest has gone full cyborg on banh phong production, with machines taking over the steaming, kneading, mixing, rolling, drying, and even the grilling! These mechanical “chefs” turn out banh phong that puffs up to a perfection, giving the old coal-fired method a run for its money. And thanks to this robotic revolution, banh phong is breaking borders, jet-setting from its local haunts to snack bowls across the globe. 

While Vẽ cakes have sadly faded into history and peng khua and khau xen are just beginning their journey, banh phong in the Southwest has not only endured but flourished. Its success symbolizes the enduring bond between people and their traditional fare. Should one commit to the preservation and enhancement of traditional dishes, it is likely that such efforts will be met with success. Let’s hope for more Vietnamese culinary classics as successful as banh phong.

mlefood