Autumn comes, rice fields in Quang Ngai turn golden. After days of flooded fields, fish follow the water from the foot of the field to the ditch and then to the river and stream. The remaining fish gather in puddles and small ditches in the middle of the field, hiding under the rice fields that are swaying with the wind.
That is also when the villagers invite each other to the fields to catch fish. Baskets and basins are brought along, adults lead young children along the rice field bank. Everyone walks lightly, their eyes attentively looking at the water surface, their ears listening to the sound of fish struggling.
Pointing out the rice bushes, each carp, crucian carp, snakehead carp and field catfish appear. Among them, field catfish with their bodies shining under the golden sun, spreading their fins, struggling strongly in the shallow puddles. They find a way to escape into the ditch, returning to wider water areas, but it is often too late.
Fish are caught and put into baskets. The sound of fish wriggling harmonizes with the sound of wind shaking the rice field, creating a very familiar sound of Quang Ngai countryside every harvest season.
Small fish traps are selected separately, washed and then drained. Larger fish are kept, dropped into water jars or wide basins for later meals. For rural people, catching a bunch of field fish is not a noble asset, but it contains joy after wading through the fields.
In the afternoon, after a day of work, the wife brings a bunch of golden fried snakehead fish with peanut oil. The fragrant fish smell spreads from the kitchen, mixed with the smell of smoke and the smell of the field soil. Outside the porch, several men sit to catch the wind, chatting animatedly. A plate of fried snakehead fish is placed in the middle of the tray, next to it is a bowl of fish sauce mixed with lemon, sugar, chili, garlic; a few slices of sour star fruit, bitter banana and some herbs.
Crispy and fragrant gourami pieces are picked with vegetables, dipped in a bowl of fish sauce and then brought to the mouth. The sweetness of the fish blends with the salty, sour, and spicy tastes, creating a simple but easy-to-remember dish.
Field gourami lives in rice fields and ditches, so the meat is fragrant and has a natural sweet taste. With small fish, when processed properly, the fish bones are soft and can be eaten whole. The sweetness of the fish, the sourness of star fruit, the saltiness of fish sauce, the slight spiciness of chili and pepper harmonize, awakening the taste buds with very familiar flavors.
Perhaps that is why field gourami is not just a dish. For many people in Quang Ngai, it is also a part of the memory of ripe rice seasons, of days following parents to the fields, of muddy feet and the sound of fish wriggling in the last puddles of the season.
Field fish in the ripe rice season is a gift that the fields give to the villagers after months of plowing. Fishing pleasure, the sound of perch wriggling in the fields, the smell of grilled fish on charcoal or the crispy fried fish in the afternoon meal... all remain in memory.
