For many people, winter does not just bring the chill of the weather but also carries the warmth of childhood memories. It could be as simple as a knitted sweater made by a mother through countless cold seasons, the flickering glow of a fire in a small kitchen, or the delightful aroma of crispy, fragrant winter treats.

Winter makes people remember the simple cakes made by our grandmothers and mothers. Photo: VAN QUY DUC

Whenever the weather turns chilly, Mrs. Nguyen Thi Nhu Hong (An Hai Bac Ward, Son Tra District) always returns from the market with a few slices of fried banana cake in her bag. She eats them not just for their delicious taste, but for the memories they evoke.

Mrs. Hong recalls that in 1970, from her hometown Que Son (Quang Nam province), she and her siblings followed their parents to evacuate to Da Nang. In their early days in the city, with no stable jobs, her parents worked tirelessly to support their children’s education. They took on every job they could find, from helping at food stalls, construction work, and collecting scrap materials to selling fried banana cakes outside school gates during the cold winter months.

Since then, her childhood and that of her siblings became intertwined with the rich, sweet aroma of fried banana cakes. She vividly remembers those early winter mornings when her mother would rise at dawn to prepare her street vendor stall. The sound of a knife slicing bananas and the stirring of batter blended with the flickering light of the charcoal stove. Her mother carefully dipped each banana slice into a smooth layer of batter before dropping it into a pan of sizzling oil, then fried them to a perfect golden crisp.

For Mrs. Hong, the banana cakes of those days were more than just a snack to stave off hunger—they were a comforting treat for a child’s soul during difficult times. She shared that her mother’s banana cake stall was not only a means of livelihood but also a place where her mother poured boundless love into her work. She vividly recalls those cold, rainy winter days when her mother, shivering in a thin coat, would linger outside the school gate, waiting patiently until classes ended, hoping to sell just a few more cakes.

Because of those deep memories, whenever Mrs. Hong holds a piece of banana cake, it feels as though she was returning to her childhood years with her father and mother by her side. Now, in her old age, she still keeps the habit of buying fried banana cakes whenever the weather turns cold. “This simple dish contains all the love and sacrifice that my mother gave us,” Mrs. Hong shared emotionally.

For Mrs. Truong Thi Nhu Nguyet (from Phuoc My Ward, Son Tra District), winter is synonymous with the signature northern dish of jellied meat (thit dong). "I was originally a girl from Hanoi before following my husband to live in Da Nang, so every winter, I deeply miss jellied meat —a flavor uniquely tied to the cold season," she shared. Since childhood, her parents had taught her how to prepare the dish. With just a few simple ingredients like pork leg, wood ear fungus, shiitake mushrooms, pork skin, a touch of pepper, and fish sauce, jellied meat became a cherished fragment of her nostalgic memories.

Mrs. Nguyet shared that after stir frying the wood ear fungus and shiitake mushrooms, she adds the seasoned pork leg to a pot and simmers it gently over low heat. Perfect jellied meat requires careful seasoning and slow cooking to ensure the meat and pork skin melt together, creating a natural jelly-like texture. Once cooked, she ladles the meat into bowls and leaves them outside in the 13°C winter chill to set. "Authentic jellied meat is best enjoyed in the crisp cold, with its crystal-clear layer of congealed fat revealing the layers of meat, pork skin, and mushrooms—it looks appetizing even before the first bite," she passionately described.

Now living in Da Nang, Mrs. Nguyet continues the tradition of making jellied meat whenever winter arrives. Since the weather isn’t cold enough, she places the dish in the refrigerator to achieve the desired jelly-like consistency. On the family dining table, jellied meat is often presented as a centerpiece, accompanied by pickled onions and sour mustard greens. The flavors blend seamlessly, evoking memories of her childhood in the northern homeland. Mrs. Nguyet shared a delightful saying from Hanoi: “As silent as jellied meat”, emphasizing how this dish symbolizes simplicity and quietude, harmonizing with the crisp sweetness of winter. For her family, every meal featuring jellied meat stirs up cherished memories of the challenging, yet warm and nostalgic days spent in Hanoi.

It’s not surprising that the childhood memories of many people are often tied to the meals prepared in their family kitchens. Food serves not only as a necessity but also as a habit, repeated year after year. For photographer Ong Van Sinh, winter in his memories is marked by wide, empty, and lonely streets. He recalls sitting huddled under a thin coat on the porch, trying to avoid the sudden cold winds that would whip through. "On windy winter days, the only warmth came from sitting by the fire. At that time, I would gather with my siblings around a pot of boiled sweet potatoes, eating while warming our hands," Mr. Sinh remembers.

As the winters passed, Mr. Sinh realized the deep bonds within his family. He remembers the sound of his mother telling stories, the sound of his father digging the ground under the light drizzle. He says that those stories, shared by his parents, were both a source of comfort and early inspiration, leading him to later immerse himself in photography, and seeking beauty in the streets during winter. Though the years of hardship are long behind, the memories of winter, of his childhood with the cold winds and the warmth of the hearth, continue to be an endless source of emotion. Now, every time he picks up his camera, he strives to capture those warm and poignant moments through the lens.

Naming her debut collection of essays "Beloved Winters", young writer Tran Nguyen Hanh shared that for her, winter is a season of sweet memories. It's a time that reminds her of a warm cup of hot cocoa and the cakes her mother used to make. Hanh explained that every time winter comes around, she often listens to the song "Beloved Winters" by Do Bao and imagines her mother who is always gentle, thoughtful, delicate, and humble.

"I remember the winters of my childhood with yellow leaves and cold winds. My mother would sit and knit scarves. The cold would seep into the wool, but her hands were still patient in keeping the stitches even and straight, so that every time I wrapped her knitted scarf around my neck, warmth would spread through me. Every year, she knitted scarves, and those scarves kept me warm through many cold winters. Now, I still cherish the scarves she made and hold them as a loving memory that has supported me every step of my life," Hanh said with a smile.

It can be said that winter, in the sharp chill of the weather, is a time when warm memories quietly return. Simple dishes or moments gathered around the fire not only become memories but also serve as a bond that connects those far from home to their roots. And sometimes, all it takes is to remain still, letting the heart lead the way, and the winters of the past, filled with flavors of longing and nostalgia, will naturally rush back.

Reporting by TIEU YEN - Translating by HONG VAN