Taste from mother's hands

When the rain fell softly outside, the cold of the first day of winter crept in, my mother put out a tray full of betel leaves and minced meat.

Each lolot leaf is carefully selected by my mother, thick, soft and the fringe is kept intact so that it can wrap the minced meat inside. My mother often chooses pork with both lean and fat so that when rolled, the meat will not be dry. My mother often mixes the minced meat with shallots, lemongrass, pepper, chopped wood ear mushrooms and fish sauce, sugar and MSG to create an attractive mixture.

Mom sat by the fire, her hands quickly rolling each patty. The fresh, soft betel leaves wrapped around the minced meat mixed with rich spices. Each tiny patty was neatly arranged on a skewer and then grilled.

The sizzling sound of grilled meatloaf on the charcoal stove sounded like a simple song, but it had a strange appeal. Mom said that when grilling, you have to turn the meatloaf constantly so that it cooks evenly, doesn’t burn, and the filling will be moist and soft without being dry.

The meatloaf had just been grilled, and the aroma wafted through the kitchen, permeating the air. Mom often said that the deliciousness of a dish lies not only in its flavor, but also in the care taken to make it.

I still remember the feeling when I smelled that aroma. A warm aroma, spreading throughout the space, drawing us back to dinner. Picking up a piece of ham, the rich flavor of the meat permeated my mouth and melted. The taste was rich and delicious. Each roll of ham was like a simple invitation, a reminder of rainy afternoons, of the warm red fire where there was always someone to feed me.

Mom’s grilled pork with betel leaves is not a luxurious dish, but it is the most delicious dish for me. Now, as an adult, every time I make grilled pork with betel leaves, I can’t help but reminisce about those rainy winter days, sitting around the dinner table, eagerly waiting for the dish my mom made.