North: A Homey Porridge Soup

Let’s join the intriguing adventure of a special “porridge soup” from Vietnam.

Porridges with Rice Strands

Ha Mo village, in Dan Phuong district, Hanoi, was founded in the early years of the Common Era. In the 6th century, the village was part of the capital of Van Xuan, a kingdom ruled by King Ly Nam De. 

The king’s son, Prince Ly Nha Lang, was a brave and skilled warrior. He often led his army to fight against invaders. Whenever he came back victorious, he would reward his soldiers with a feast of pork. One day, he went to check on the celebration and saw that only the generals had meat, while the soldiers had to make do with rice and bone broth. He was furious and ordered the cooks to prepare better food for the soldiers.

His order forced the army cooks to think outside of the box. They looked at the large round-bellied copper pots filled with simmering broth and had an idea. They took fine and flexible rice dough and spun it into strands that fell directly into the boiling broth. They also stir-fried minced pork with shallots and added it to the pot. A new dish was born: cháo se (spinning porridge).

They called it “cháo” (porridge) because the rice strands were cooked in broth like rice in a porridge, and “se” (spinning) because of how they made the strands. The soldiers enjoyed it, finding it easy to eat and satisfying. The dish became a staple at every military celebration.

Prince Ly Nha Lang died on the 12th day of the 8th lunar month in the year 571. He was revered as the guardian of Ha Mo village, where his palace was located. Cháo se became a traditional dish of Ha Mo, served at village festivals and family gatherings.

Nowadays, Ha Mo people make the dish more sophisticated than their ancestors. They choose good rice and tail bones for a better taste. The porridge is best when cooked in a copper pot on a wood stove, the old-fashioned way. The fire snaps, and the bone broth whispers while long noodles twirl and dive in the soup, shifting from white to velvety. When the noodles are soft, the stir-fried meat crashes the party. The porridge is perfumed with the aroma of meat and shallots, with a touch of savory fat and the sweetness of rice.

Ha Mo wasn’t the only place that loved cháo se. Huong Canh village (Vinh Phuc province) also had a thing for spinning porridge. They made it the same way as Ha Mo, but with a twist: chicken. They cook the dish to honor the village protectors during the village festival on the 29th day of the 4th lunar month.

Dinh To, a village in Bac Ninh province, has a centuries-old porridge that is close to cháo se. The only difference is that the rice flour dough is shaped into a big ball like a grapefruit and sliced thinly. The story of cháo thái (slicing porridge) in Dinh To dates back to the 11th century. 

Le Van Thinh was the first winner of Vietnam’s inaugural Confucian exam, hosted by King Le Nhan Tong in 1075. He was renowned for his brilliance and eloquence. He convinced the Song dynasty’s envoy to give back six districts and three communes in Quang Nguyen (now Cao Bang province) to Dai Viet. In 1095, he faced false charges and was exiled to a faraway land. A year later, he became seriously ill and was permitted to go back to his hometown. He came from Bao Thap village, about 20 kilometers from Dinh To.

Le Van Thinh reached Dinh To, then known as Dieng, weary and worn. An old farmer felt sorry for him and made him a bowl of porridge with rice flour slices and a grilled fish. After eating, he lay down to rest on the edge of the field and breathed his last. The Dieng villagers laid him to rest and saw that his grave was covered by termites, a sign of good luck in their belief. When they found out that he was a Champion scholar, they honored him as the village’s protector. From then on, Dieng village changed its name to Dinh To, meaning the temple of the first Confucian champion of Vietnam.

Le Van Thinh died on the same day as Prince Ly Nha Lang: the 12th day of the 8th lunar month. Cháo thái and grilled fish are two essential dishes in the village ceremony to honor him on this day.

Rice Paper Soups with Fish or Crab

After bánh đa (rice paper) became popular, ancient people of the Northern Delta sliced wet rice papers into strands and added them to two popular soups of that time: perch soup and crab soup. This created two new dishes: canh bánh đa cá rô and canh bánh đa cua (rice paper soups with perch or crab). 

Northern folklore ranks freshwater fish like this: “perch is the best, catfish is the zest, loach is the rest”. Perch is the king of fish in the North. Organic perch are tiny but tough. They live in harsh water and can swim and jump like Olympic athletes. That’s why their meat and bones are so yummy. They are boiled and their meat is picked out. People smash the bones and squeeze the juice to make the broth. Rice paper strands are cooked in the fishy soup, served with bitter mustard greens and fiery young ginger.

Rice paper soup with perch in restaurants is a fancy affair. Instead of boiling the fish, they grill it to give it a smoky flavor. They spice up the fish meat with tasty seasonings and saute or fry it for a crispy texture. They mix katuk and Viet celery with mustard greens, creating a zesty bite. As side dishes, they throw in some pickled bamboo shoots to join the stir-fried chili, making them fight for the tangiest flavor. Canh bánh đa cá rô is adored by all Northern Delta provinces, especially Phu Ly (Ha Nam) and Quynh Coi (Thai Binh), where the dish is a star.

Crabs scuttled across the ancient Northern Delta, brown as mud and fast as lightning. But not fast enough to escape the locals who caught, shelled and pounded them into a smooth paste. They cooked the paste with mẻ (sour fermented cooked rice), and waited for the magic to happen. The light brown crab meat rose to the surface like cotton candy, but much tastier. Then they added the secret ingredient: a splash of golden stir-fried crab tomalley, rich and flavorful.

They soaked rice paper strands in the broth, making them soft and chewy. Pungent purple perilla, shallot and lolot leaves balances any crabby smell and completes the soup. This simple but scrumptious dish is canh bánh đa cua (rice paper soup with crab). It is as romantic and passionate as Quan Ho songs of Kinh Bac area.

The Goddess Temple Festival in Song An commune (Thai Binh province) has a tasty tradition of cooking rice paper soup with crab for festival visitors. Song An people make rice papers, dry them, snap them into pieces and toss them into the soup. The pieces curl up into a round shape like a tù và (ancient horn). That’s how this dish got its name: canh bánh đa tù và (horn rice paper soup).

When you go from the countryside to the cities, especially Hai Phong, the word “soup” in “rice paper soup” vanishes. Hai Phong folks call their dish bánh đa cua, which means “rice papers with crab” even though it’s still a soup. 

It’s quite fancy with all sorts of exotic toppings: crab spring rolls, beef wrapped in lolot leaves, fish cakes, shrimp, pork, and crab meat. Crunchy pork rinds and chopped herbs sprinkle some crispiness and freshness, while boiled water spinach and water mimosa complement it nicely. As for the rice paper strands, they have to be the real McCoy: large, thick, dark brown ones made from rice flour mixed with gấc (red spiny gourd) or molasses.

Porridge Soup

Have you ever wondered what happens when you mix porridge with rice strands and rice paper soups? The locals in the North Central from Thanh Hoa to Quang Tri did, and they created a unique dish that they named cháo canh (porridge soup). Their experiment was a success, and a sensation!

Though having the same name, porridge soups are diverse in two different styles. Nghe An and Ha Tinh favor wheat flour for their dish, with pork bone broth and toppings of minced meat, sliced meat, Viet ham, quail eggs, shrimp, and snakehead. On the other hand, Thanh Hoa, Quang Tri and Quang Binh stick to rice flour. 

In Thanh Hoa, the locals simmer pork ribs to create a hearty broth, and crown their soup with succulent shrimps that sizzle in the pan. The rice flour strands, tender and silky, coated in a snowy flour layer, swirl and twirl in the steaming pot. The porridge soup is rich and vibrant, with an orange tint of shrimp roe and a lush green of scallion leaves.

Quang Binh and Quang Tri have a clever trick for making rice strands: they roll rice dough thinly on a bamboo or plastic tube, and slice it right off the tube. Does that remind you of how slicing porridge is made? The knife makes a “sat sat” sound as it cuts the dough, so the locals call this dish “cháo sát” instead of “cháo canh”.

From Quang Binh to the South, snakehead takes the crown as the best and most popular freshwater fish. Snakehead likes to chill in calm and muddy water, where it grows nice and fat, and doesn’t have too many bones. However its broth is less flavorful than perch’s, so people often throw in some pork bones to boost the flavor. And don’t forget the secret spice of these two provinces: nước mắm ruốc (acetes fish sauce). It makes everything taste better than MSG, and it’s natural too.

Can you guess what goes well with Quang Binh’s snakehead porridge soup? It’s ram (Viet spring rolls)! The long golden rolls, stuffed with meat, lie gracefully on the plate, next to the piping hot bowl of porridge soup; both warm the hearts of travelers in the midst of the drizzling rain.

Quang Tri people are even more clever: they add something similar to durian to their porridge soup, meaning that you either love it or hate it. What is it? Chive bulbs! They use them to marinate snakehead meat for their well-known porridge soup: cháo bột Hải Lăng (Hai Lang flour porridge). And that’s not all, they also chop the chive stalks and drop it in the porridge to enhance its distinctive aroma, making it a unique and unforgettable dish.

Quang Tri’s porridge soup has a funny nickname: cháo vạt giường (bed flap porridge) because the strands are long and flat like the bars of a bed flap. The porridge and its chive scent even inspired a charming folk song:

“I crave the bed flap porridge, 

Standing, its chive smell haunts me,

Sitting, its shallot scent teases me.”

How did porridge soup spark other intriguing dishes in its culinary journey towards the south of Vietnam? Join us on a delicious trip as we leave Quang Tri for Hue and the coastal provinces of the South Central. Here’s a sneak peek: you’ll be amazed by some creative porridge dishes. Stay tuned for the next episode!

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