Cakes for Tet say happy new year
Celebrating Tet, the lunar new year,
without banh chung is like Christmas
without a tree or Thanksgiving without a
turkey. The 6-by-6-inch square delicacy,
painstakingly stuffed with five layers of
sticky rice, mung beans and pork, all wrapped inside banana
leaves, is the dish that most defines the weeklong holiday.
And in Westminster, the heart of Vietnamese culture in Southern
California, customers may wait in line for more than an hour at a
bakery to buy one, five, even dozens of the cakes.
During a two-week frenzy, the small Hoang Huong Bakery
makes 5,000 of the cakes. They take at least 20 hours to prepare.
So the shop is a study in ordered chaos before the
holiday--celebrated by Vietnamese, Chinese and some
Koreans--which begins Wednesday.
"It's strenuous, all made by hand, and we don't make a lot of
money for it," said owner Linda Nguyen.
"But it's what makes Tet. It's part of our culture."
Merchants came Monday with their trucks and dollies to pick
up large orders. Customers cut in line. They whizzed in and out,
carrying boxes of the cakes wrapped in red bows, each one costing
$7.50.
"Chuc mung nam moi!" or "Happy New Year!" one customer
shouted as he left the store with his order of six banh chung.
The workers didn't bother to look up. They were coming to the
end of two weeks of rare silence and careful, detailed work.
The 12 employees work at least 10 hours a day in an area the
size of a big house kitchen, surrounded by huge kettles, stainless
steel tables and four stoves. It's hot and cramped. The aroma of
steamed banana leaves, like stale seaweed, drifts out to the small
parking lot.
While one employee rinsed huge bowls of rice and beans,
another cleaned the banana leaves and cut them into pieces a foot
long and about 6 inches wide. Eight of them will eventually cover
the cake.
Beside him, four slight men took turns pouring the rice, beans
and pork into a wood mold on top of the leaves.
After the layers had been stacked and the cake wrapped, they
pounded it with their fists to press it into the 2 1/2-inch-tall mold.
Another man, sweat running down his face, poured hot water into a
giant steamer where the cakes were steamed for 12 hours.
They were then stacked on top of each other and between slabs
of wood, topped with anything heavy: 50-pound boxes of peeled
split mung beans, a 24-pound box of rice flour.
Nguyen, who is nine months' pregnant, has worked overnight to
tend to the boilers, making sure there's enough water at all times so
that the cakes don't dry out.
"I'm baby-sitting already," she joked as she shifted in her chair
to tie red bows on the cakes.
In the corner, Khanh Nguyen, 46, of Garden Grove quickly but
precisely wrapped the cakes in plastic. Her small fingers ran
through the top of the cakes to make sure there were no creases.
Her eyes inspected the banana leaves for any spots.
"You have to make it smooth on the top and make sure there's
four pointy corners," she said. "If it wrinkles, no one will buy it.
They see it as bad luck and inappropriate to give as gifts."
The tradition of the cakes comes from a legend in which a dying
king chooses a successor from among his sons, depending on
which made the most tasty and meaningful dish.
His youngest son, Tiet Lieu, didn't think he would be crowned
because he was the poorest and couldn't afford the ingredients to
make a lavish meal. He went to bed and in his dreams an old man
told him how to make banh, which is square, representing land, and
chung, meaning day, made with the same ingredients but round,
symbolizing the sky.
The son presented the king with both cakes, saying that the love
of his parents was limitless like the sky and the land.
"The children give it to their parents to recognize their caring,
affection, reciprocity," said Kim Son Vo, who teaches Vietnamese
culture and language at Cal State Fullerton. "It's a symbol of
gratitude."
Many of the workers said they have learned how to make the
cakes in Vietnam, where tradition calls for all households to make
their own cakes to give away as gifts for the lunar new year.
"It reminds me of Vietnam," said Lan Luu, 42, of Westminster,
who has worked at the bakery for a year. "Making these cakes
brings me into the Tet spirit. We work this hard once a year, and
it's worth it."
By Mai Tran - The Los Angeles Times - January 23, 2001.
|