March: Cá Kho Tộ

What does cá kho tộ (claypot fish) mean to me? Why cá kho tộ?

Most of my memories of Mom’s food begin with a trip to the kitchen after coming home from high school. I would unlock the security door, then the main front door. I would then kick off my tennis shoes outside the door, and then drop off my backpack and tennis gear inside by the main entrance. With a purpose, I would walk to the kitchen to see what pots and pans sat on the stove with their lids on. What is on the stove today? Stockpot or large saucepan solo? It’s likely to be a stir-fried meat and vegetable entree to be consumed with white rice. Stockpot with an accompanying medium saucepan? Probably phở, bún bò Huế, or another noodle dish. Claypot? It is almost always cá kho tộ.

Cá kho tộ invites you to engage in an exotic eating experience. When you open the lid of a claypot, the contents seem to blend in with the dark lining of the pot; the slices of catfish take on a dark brown hue given its caramelizing bath in fish sauce and brown sugar. When you have a go at the fish, the slimy skin and layer of fat along the circumference of the fish withers off, and you have to play “Operation” with your chopsticks as you piece off the flesh from the center spine and its connecting bones. 

However, the meal is a delight when eaten with steamy white Jasmine rice and an accompanying soup. My favorite part of eating cá kho tộ is eating the leftover rice from my bowl, after spending minutes soaking in the remaining caramelized sauce from the fish. This medley holds a nice balance of sweet and salty, and it invites your tastebuds to play with multiple textures: the catfish’s soft flesh, the slimy skin, the firm rice, and the soup you use to clean your bowl of the remaining rice and sauce.

I chose to make cá kho tộ this month because it is a simple comfort for these uncertain times.

Earlier this month, I had plans to visit LA for a weekend. It was my mother’s birthday, and my sister was running a marathon. As current events unfolded, I became concerned that I could get myself or my family sick via exposure from travel. And so I postponed my visit, and shortly after that weekend, my county declared school closure and a “shelter-in-place” order that restricted travel to essential functions.

Here we are: Mother and daughter enjoying a virtual dinner together!

How did I make cá kho tộ?

Linked is a Google Document with my mother’s recipe. It’s fairly straight forward, so I do not have any annotations to add, other than the fact that I used fresh catfish instead of frozen. (My mom said frozen is just as good, if not better due to convenience.)

 This is how the placed the catfish into the pot.

This is how the catfish looked after it was cooked properly. (It would probably be more brown in a claypot.)

In addition, I made canh, which is a soup that typically accompanies a main dish. Please bear in mind: This was a completely experimental side dish. Here’s what I used for the canh and how I made it:

Ingredients:

• One big package of baby bok choy (from Ranch 99)
• 1 shallot, sliced thin
• 4 cloves of minced garlic
• 3 tablespoons of fish sauce
• About 2 liters of water
• 1 tablespoon of olive oil
• (After getting advice from my mom, I would add three tablespoons of mushroom seasoning)

The Process:

1. Boil 1.75 liters of water in a kettle (I used my electric one)
2. Cut off and discard the stems of the baby bok choy. Carefully clean the dirt off the baby bok choy leaves with warm water.
3. Add the olive oil to a stockpot. Saute the garlic and shallots in the oil. Add the baby bok choy. Add the fish sauce. Stir for 2 minutes.
4. Add the boiled water. Keep on simmer until ready to serve with cá kho tộ.

*Note about eating canh with a main dish: Do not eat it American style. In America, soup is usually consumed as an appetizer. For Vietnamese dishes, canh is eaten last. Canh is used to clear your bowl of remaining rice morsels and sauce from the main dish. Eat as much of the main dish that you would like to enjoy, then ladle in 2-3 scoops of canh into your bowl and watch the rice and vegetables and dance in the broth. Let it cool, and enjoy!

Who tried my cá kho tộ?

I wish my mom could have tried my version of cá kho tộ, but we were still able to have dinner together virtually last Sunday. She enjoyed her keto-friendly toast and cauliflower pizza while Andrew and I ate my cá kho tộ with canh. 

How was it?

I was surprised with how consistent the meal was with my memory. The only thing was that the fish was not as brown as it would have been if it were made in a claypot. Regardless, Andrew and I enjoyed the dish and cleaned our palettes with the canh.

I chose not to record the meal, out of respect to my mother’s current condition. She was finally able to secure a telephone appointment with her doctor after two weeks of feeling ill, and her doctor stated that they suspected she contracted COVID-19. Hearing that left her (and us) in a bit of a whirlwind, but she had the awareness to engage in social distancing and self-quarantine since the governor called a statewide “stay-at-home” order. She nearly cancelled our digital dinner, but she managed to check in with us for about an hour. (For those wondering, she is typically a very healthy and active woman, and she senses she is recovering.)

Here are some notable topics from our conversation:

• Mom suggested that I add mushroom seasoning to the canh, which was a delicious add-on the next day we had it.
• We asked about her experience with cá kho tộ, and she mentioned that in Vietnam, folks normally prepare it with smaller fish. However, catfish is used in the States because it is meatier and has less bones to pick out.
• Mom reminded me that I should have asked the seafood butcher to clean the catfish skin until it was white. Apparently, you can request that it be dropped in a vat of hot water as a part of the cleaning process.
• Mom gave Andrew live feedback on his swimming techniques. (When we saw her in February, Andrew got swimming lessons from my mom at a community pool while I engaged in water aerobics with senior citizens.)

While I am a bit sad about not being able to see my mother during this time, I am content to be part of this socially-engineered order that will eventually (hopefully) relieve the stress of many of the essential workers who are out on the front lines and doing what they must to care for society.