Shrimp Fritters and Brothers: The Tasty Trio

Craving the crispy delight of shrimp fritters and its brothers?

From the far-off North come shrimp fritters, from the sun-drenched South, cóng cakes and giá cakes, yet these three are like triplets, mirror images at first glance! But take a bite, oh my, each has its own personality and flavor. Let’s dive into the delicious diversity of this scrumptious trio!

Shrimp Fritters

In Hanoi, shrimp fritters (bánh tôm) used to be the darling of schoolkids and street food lovers since at least the early 20th century, immortalized in the lively prose of old books.

In Thạch Lam’s memory, shrimp fritters were “the dream and delight of an entire schoolchild’s life.” In Hà Nội ba sáu phố phường, he wistfully recalls the fritter stall outside school gates in winter when “the north wind whistled”. Kids watched, hearts racing, as the vendor “scooped a plate of white batter, topped it with two or three dried shrimp, sprinkled slivers of sweet potato, and plunged it into sizzling oil…” (Văn Hóa Thông Tin Public House 2000, p. 166)

Gaggles of students huddled around “the vendor’s hot oil pan”, soaking up the warmth, eyes glued to the batter “turning golden and golden, the shrimp curling, the sweet potato blooming, the fritter arching as if eager to leap onto the plate”. No time to grab chopsticks; they’d beg for a splash of tangy vinegar-chili dipping sauce. “We ate while the fritters were piping hot, burning our mouths, lips, tongues, tears streaming from the chili’s throat-searing kick, sighing with delight as the flavor lingered. Oh, how delicious!” (ibid., p. 167)

That was the shrimp fritter scene circa 1920–1930, with Thạch Lam, born in 1910, as our guide. By the early 1940s, fritter vendors turned street theater, as French writer Hilda Arnhold observed: “With the flair of a stage actor, they shaped the batter, let it bubble in oil, then snipped the fritters into pieces with giant scissors…  Diners wielded chopsticks, dunking crispy bites into fish sauce spiked with lime, munching heartily with lettuce and fragrant herbs.” (Bắc Kỳ phong cảnh và ấn tượng, Kim Đồng Public House 2022, p. 106)

In Thương nhớ Mười Hai, Vũ Bằng pines for Hanoi’s Cổ Ngư Road (now Thanh Niên), flanked by “West Lake on one side and Trúc Bạch Lake on the other, stretching toward Nghi Tàm, lined with lush grass and towering trees” (Văn học Public House 1993, p. 77). 

This dreamy road later starred in the haunting song Hà Nội Mùa vắng những cơn mưa: “Milkwood flowers cease to fall, you by my side after class, strolling slowly down old Cổ Ngư. Hanoi this season holds back the sun, quiet streets with slanting bare branches, a rickety sidewalk café, a line of poetry. West Lake, West Lake, veiled in purple mist” (Music: Trương Quý Hải, Lyrics: Bùi Thanh Tuấn). Who’d guess the poem inspiring this song came from a Southern student, never set foot in Hanoi, scribbled during a 1992 student exchange at Vietnam National University, Ho Chi Minh city?

Along Cổ Ngư’s edge, Vũ Bằng savored Hanoi’s “elegant yet cheap” fritters. “True Hanoi shrimp fritters skip sweet potato or egg-batter, just pure batter and shrimp, light, fragrant, dipped in soy sauce and chili vinegar, so good you can’t stand it” (ibid., p. 77) His version differs from Thạch Lam’s or Arnhold’s, but who cares? He ate fritters in a poet’s paradise: “Munching it away, cooled by nature’s breeze, waves lapping the shore like a lullaby, while your eyes feast on the endless charm of passersby” (ibid., p. 77)

By the 1960s, the state-run West Lake Shrimp Fritter shop near Trấn Quốc Pagoda became a legend, its lakeside spot a magnet. Back in the subsidy era, you’d wait an hour, but the cool breeze and stunning view kept everyone cheerful. Today, it’s a proper restaurant, serving fritters faster than you can say “yum.” They boast West Lake shrimp – soft shells, firm flesh – and sweet potatoes from the Red River’s banks.

Another gem is Mrs. Ầm’s tiny stall in Đồng Xuân Market, packed to the gills with fans. Mrs. Ầm keeps the old-school vibe: hand-sliced sweet potato, delicate yet intact; batter fermented just right for a crispy, airy bite; fresh shrimp, vibrant herbs, and homemade pickled veggies that hit the spot. Fried twice – high heat first, low heat for golden perfection – the fritters are crisp, oil-free, with savory shrimps, tangy pickles and fresh greens. Truly a Hanoi delicacy!

Cóng Cakes

Now, let’s zip from Hanoi to Đại Tâm, Mỹ Xuyên, Sóc Trăng, for cóng cakes – named by its mold “cóng” at the size like a tiny teacup, once used to measure rice wine, oil, or fish sauce. Traditionally, “cóng” were crafted from bamboo, later transitioning to plastic. However, for baking the cakes, aluminum or stainless steel are the materials of choice. Interestingly, in Cần Thơ, they say cống cakes, probably for smoother pronunciation. 

Cóng cake batter blends rice flour, soybean flour, a pinch of turmeric, and sometimes a couple of eggs for richness. The mix is thick, smooth, and fragrant. First, a third of the mold gets a batter base, followed by a layer of steamed mung beans, a spoonful of minced pork stir-fried with shallots and pepper, and a thin batter topcoat. Two dainty shrimps, called “tép” in the South, either nuzzle head-to-head or curve gracefully atop. The mold dives into hot oil, bubbling white, gets lifted when golden, then takes a second dip for extra crunch.

Out comes a golden cóng cake, ready to shine beside a plate piled with lettuce, herbs, and a glistening amber bowl of fish sauce laced with garlic and chili. Wrap it in greens, dunk it in sauce, take a bite. Good gracious! The crust crunches, mung beans melt sweetly, shrimp and pork pack a punch, all dancing with the sweet-sour-salty sauce and fresh herbs. It’s a flavor party you won’t forget!

Long ago, cóng cakes went by “xầy cakes” as Sóc Trăng native Vương Hồng Sển recalled around 1910, “with one cent you could buy a xầy cake to fill your tummy, it was stuffed with mung beans, fried in pork fat, topped with a golden, nutty tép.” (Sài Gòn Tạp pín lù, Tổng hợp HCMC Public House 2012, p. 255) 

Sóc Trăng’s folk songs still hum:

“Do you recall Bãi Xàu,

Xầy cakes fried in fat, steamed buns with minced pork?”

Bãi Xàu, in Mỹ Xuyên, Sóc Trăng province, was a bustling 18th–19th-century port, a hub for rice, poultry, produce, and imported fabrics, ceramics, and tobacco. Xầy cakes, or cóng cakes, likely took root in that lively trade, a tasty legacy of the Mekong’s golden days.

Giá Cakes

Swing by Chợ Giồng, now Vĩnh Bình Market, Gò Công Tây, Tiền Giang, where giant oil pans simmer, birthing round, with hearty cakes the size of a soup ladle. Meet the final sibling: giá cakes.

Like cóng cakes, giá cakes use rice and soybean flour, but their filling is a party: bean sprouts (giá), pork liver, peanuts, and sometimes wood ear mushrooms. The sprouts give the name “giá”, clear in writing. But the Southern drawl often softens the “g” in “giá”, making it sound very similar to “vá” (ladle). This phonetic similarity, coupled with the fact that the batter is molded in a ladle, leads some folks to playfully insist it’s vá cake. Sounds plausible, right?

Unlike shrimp fritters and cóng cakes for snacking, Chợ Giồng’s giá cakes buddy up with rice or noodles. Slice the cake, toss in chopped greens, cucumber, and noodles, then drown it in sweet-sour-spicy fish sauce. Giá cakes are crisp with rich liver, sweet sprouts, and crunchy peanuts. Blink, and your bowl’s empty! No wonder giá cakes steal the show at Gò Công weddings and Tet feasts.

Though far from home, Trần Tiến Dũng can’t forget giá cakes: “In minutes, the cake lifts from the ladle, floating in sizzling oil, turning from white to ivory to deep gold, like a blooming flower. I recall waiting for the cake to rise, the aroma of it cooking, each one drained on a rack, the pink paper soaking up oil, the glossy green banana leaf wrapping a hot cake” (Memories of Gò Công’s Giá Cakes)

A Gò Công lad even frets his gentle giá-cake seller might leave the market to follow her new wed:

“One day my girl weds another,

No more Chợ Giồng’s giá cakes for me.”

Though individual sellers may come and go, like the lamented giá cake lady of Chợ Giồng, but giá cakes, shrimp fritters, and cóng cakes will continue to linger in markets, on streetsides, and even in fancy restaurants. As long as Vietnamese kids grow up with these hometown treats in their hands, bellies, and hearts, these traditional cakes will live on forever!

mlefood – Minh Lê