Sweet and sour ever

In the summer of 2019, after six years I went back to Copenhagen, Denmark, to visit Mr. and Mrs. Ulla-Stina and Jorgen Nilsson, my big friends. From the airport, just getting off the Frederiksberg metro station, was bewildered when I saw Mr. Jorgen, tall and skinny, with his back cuffed slightly, coming. His face was gentle, his eyes were smoky green, his hair was rippled with white clouds. He opened his arms to welcome me, lovingly saying: ‘Hello Little Na, welcome home!’ (Hi Na, welcome home!).

In the summer of 2019, after six years I went back to Copenhagen, Denmark, to visit Mr. and Mrs. Ulla-Stina and Jorgen Nilsson, my big friends. From the airport, just getting off the Frederiksberg metro station, was bewildered when I saw Mr. Jorgen, tall and skinny, with his back cuffed slightly, coming. His face was gentle, his eyes were smoky green, his hair was rippled with white clouds. He opened his arms to welcome me, lovingly said: “Hello Little Na, welcome home!” (Hi Na, welcome home!). I rushed forward, hugged him, my chest choked with love. My grandparents called me Na, the name that my parents and those closest to me would call me. With Mr. Jorgen and Mrs. Ulla, I have always been the little Na. I met my grandparents more than ten years ago at Van Mieu Quoc Tu Giam, Hanoi. Grandparents are tourists, visiting the Temple of Literature right on Vietnamese Poetry Day, buying my book “Thorns in Dreams” at the bookshop. At that time, “The Thorns of Dreams” was the only book of bilingual Vietnamese-English poetry on sale. When knowing that the author of the book is also present at the Temple of Literature, Mr. and Mrs. Nilsson expressed their wish to meet. Fate has allowed us to become old friends ever since, through poetry. Mr. Jorgen is quite old, his ears cannot hear well, he has to use hearing aids. He was much slower, but still grabbed me my suitcase all the way from the metro station, going home two bus stops, up four floors. Your apartment has three bedrooms, airy, many windows, at 17B Pile Allé Street, in an old house without an elevator, the front facing the street, the back facing into a spacious courtyard, with garden Flowers and fruit trees were scattered along the gravel paths. Mrs. Ulla had her hair cut neatly, her eyes were pure brown, her smile was bright, her figure was still quite agile, but these three years had begun to forget. Last time I came to play, I still spoke English comfortably with her about all kinds of things in the world. But this time, there were very simple words, like “breakfast”, but she kept thinking about it, so she said “the meal of the morning”. Everything during the day, she recorded in the little notebook in the black leather wallet, she took it out from time to time. That year, she turned eighty, on July 13. He turned eight and six, on August 29. But the Sunday I was there, August 25, grandparents’ daughters, Mette and Lotte will hold a special birthday party, shared for parents, with about twenty guests. That is why I traveled a thousand miles to be in Copenhagen. The “mine” room in the house has a west-facing window overlooking Frederiksberg Park and the Danish Royal Summer Castle. Ten thousand young trees planted in a large pot next to the bookshelf a few years ago, was still small, now it has spread its branches and leaves all over the wall, all over the bed, giving me the feeling of being lost in the middle of a hanging garden. On the chair, Mrs. Ulla left me towels and nightgowns, and on the table there was a book “Tales From Moominvalley” by Tove Jansson – a famous Finnish female writer, a family album, a map of Copenhagen and a card. old. I realized that it was the card I sent to celebrate Jorgen’s birthday in 2014. In the album, I saw a lot of my photos – the photos I emailed every year, printed by my grandparents, stuck next to the pictures of the city. Take family members carefully, as many parents do. My eyes were suddenly stinging, but my heart was comforted, relaxed and peaceful. After all the tiring, I know, I always have a place in this warm house. With my grandparents, I often go to the kitchen to make some Vietnamese dishes such as fried spring rolls, bun cha, dried beef salad, rolls, chicken pho … Mrs. Ulla said, Vietnamese cuisine is attractive by freshness and boldness. Natural flavor momentum, which is extremely delicate. Grandparents are very impressed with the sweet and sour, sweet and sour sauce used in the dishes I’ve cooked. I decided this time to make Nam Bo beef noodle soup, which also needed a sweet and sour sauce. Called “Nam Bo Beef Noodles”, but I heard it was not a Southern dish, but was created by a woman from Hanoi several decades ago. This woman opened a noodle shop on Nam Bo Street (now Le Duan Street) in Hanoi. Then she sold more vermicelli with grilled beef, raw vegetables, sweet and sour fish sauce, pickled papaya. Over time, the dish changed, adding bean sprouts, roasted peanuts, scallions and stir-fried beef, as the version I know. Although the origin of this dish is still debated, it is one of the most popular Vietnamese dishes outside the border because of its refreshing taste and the harmonious blend of ingredients that make it. In the morning, Mrs. Ulla and I were walking leisurely along Vesterbrogade, a busy shopping street, which led up near the Central Station. Behind the station is an Asian store, a Vietnamese saleswoman, with a soft southern accent. There are nearly everything in the basics of cooking, but not as varied as the one at Tang Frères in Paris, and the price is much more expensive. For Mrs. Ulla, the Southern Beef Noodle Soup is too sophisticated and laborious. She asked me if this is for special occasions. When she knew it was a daily dish, she was very surprised and admired the patient meticulousness of Vietnamese women. Beef mixed into medium pieces, thinly sliced, marinated in oyster sauce, fish sauce, pepper, sugar, garlic and chopped lemongrass; When preparing to eat, stir-fry the meat. When the meat is cooked until it is curly, it will be straight ahead, lest it overheat. This dish uses the most delicious beef tenderloin, soft but firm, sweet and rich. Beef is soft everywhere, but pale. With beef, need to be thicker, when stir-fried will not be crumbled. Chopped dried onions, fragrant non-yellow; Roasted peanuts, scrubbed off the skin, crumbled, broken, do not pound well, so that when sprinkled in vermicelli, you can still enjoy the crispy crunch. Carrots, papaya, kohlrabi or cucumber, cut into flowers into beautiful leaves, shock with a little salt and soak in vinegar, sugar, chili to gobble. The process of mixing the sauce is very important, no matter how fresh and delicious the beef, the sauce lacks a bit of sourness, a little sweetness, or a lack of a bit of boldness, the dish will miss the beat, will “show” like the wrong singer. music. I often mix and taste, but do not have a specific quantitative ratio, because it depends on what kind of fish sauce and vinegar to use. To make the sauce bowl look attractive, beautiful, chili garlic must be dropped in the end, so that they will float like tiny white and red flowers floating on the smooth “lake surface”. And even though the vinegar is acidic enough, you should still squeeze a few drops of fresh lemon juice to make the sauce smell of nostalgic. Nam Bo beef noodle dish has a cool taste thanks to the combination with bean sprouts, lettuce and herbs of all kinds. All chirping, kicking up like a joyful bass note, merging into a full spectrum. We had a simple, cozy dinner, full of smiles, and a lot of tears. I do not put everything in the bowl, mix it up as usual, but set each item separately on a small plate. Each person took a little leisurely into their own bowl, sprinkled with sauce, and then enjoyed. Because the dish contained beef, Mr. Jorgen opened a bottle of Bordeaux wine from the line of Cabernet Sauvignon lightly. Slowly feel so many flavors tangled together, in the old wine yeast, how interesting it is! I feel at home. Mr. and Mrs. Nilsson are close and dear like my parents. I soaked, then translated the meaning for grandparents to listen to the song: “Who has ever been sweet and sour / Salty spicy ginger, please don’t forget each other”. Grandparents touched my hand touched. Mrs. Ulla said: “Na, you are like my wife’s third daughter. Thank you for this delicious dinner. Thank you for coming back, for being with us! ”. I drank quite a lot the night before, but I stayed up forever. I got up very early, opened the window, heard birds chirping from the canopy of trees in the park. The air is cold and pure. Looking down, Pile Allé is still quiet, quiet or someone bicycling, or a bus soars. The city is stirring, stretching and waking up … I buried my cheeks in a thin wool scarf wrapped around my shoulders, leaned over the windowsill, watching the sky blush. The sun began to slant from the east, across the intersection between Vesterbrogade and Pile Allé, gently covering the city with a dreamy golden glow. A new day really begins. I heard rattling in the kitchen, it was Mr. Jorgen making coffee. Then the sound of tiptoes softly walked toward my room. Mrs. Ulla knocked on the door, softly called: “Na, let’s get up for breakfast!” – “Yes, I’m out right now!”. Down the road, people passing by were more crowded. Sunny flooded all the way. The scent of coffee and toast caressed the air. This city has become so familiar to me! Here Mr. and Mrs. Nilsson gave me a roof, a warm kitchen, where I could return anytime …