A VISIT TO GRANNY NAM’S STEAMED JACKFRUIT STALL – A TASTE OF HOMETOWN MEMORIES

Four years ago, during a cycling trip to Tam Kỳ in search of the region’s famed mít hông (steamed jackfruit), I stumbled upon Granny Nam’s little stall. I ended up sitting down for a chat with her and her daughters about this humble Quảng-style street snack. The story was so delightful that I later posted a write-up on Facebook and my blog — it surprisingly drew over 5,000 views.

I still remember that day clearly. Before setting off, I had done my homework online to find the best mít hông in Tam Kỳ. The name “Granny Bắc’s Steamed Jackfruit” came up often, but when I got to town and opened Google Maps, nothing showed up. After asking around, I eventually found a mít hông stall on Hoàng Diệu Street. Only… it wasn’t Granny Bắc’s. It was Granny Nam’s.

Sensing my confusion, Granny Nam — then 84 years old — kept calmly stripping jackfruit fibers as she chuckled and explained:

“Actually, my name’s Nguyễn Thị Nhạn. I’m originally from Quảng Ninh. After the war, I moved here with my husband, Mr. Nam. I was the only Northerner in the neighborhood, so folks started calling me ‘Granny Bắc’ (Granny from the North). But then others called me ‘Granny Nam’ after my husband. It stuck both ways.”

Four Years Later – One Familiar Face Missing

This time around, the only person I recognized was her youngest daughter, Duyên. She was sitting with three other women, still carefully separating jackfruit fibers, just like four years ago. I asked instinctively:

“Where’s Granny?”

Duyên paused, then gently replied:

“She passed away two years ago, brother. Peacefully. No illness or pain.”

A quiet sadness crept in. I could still hear Granny’s thick Northern accent — so distinct from her daughters’ Quảng Nam dialects. I pulled up an old video. There she was, smiling that same gentle smile. Everyone watching smiled too. It felt like she was still here.

“Don’t take my photo, I look terrible!” she’d said in the clip.

“You’re beautiful, Granny! No one your age still looks that good!”

I showed them an old photo: a pale arm, adorned with gold bracelets and a diamond ring, resting on a basket of golden mít hông.

“Is the lady with the pretty hands off today?”

Duyên laughed.

“Oh, that’s my sister Dung. Her daughter sponsored her to move to the U.S.!”

“Didn’t she used to say she made mít hông in the morning and sold gold jewelry in the afternoon?”

“She loved looking good! Wouldn’t go out unless she had makeup on and wore something fancy.”

No wonder she always insisted on checking every photo I took — deleting the unflattering ones, only allowing the best to be posted!

Mít Hông – A Taste of Memory

The stall looked the same, though there were fewer customers now. But the mít hông? Still just as good. I suggested maybe trying different fillings, but Duyên shook her head:

“I’ve tried. Customers say it just doesn’t taste like the old days.”

She smiled, adding:

“This dish isn’t really about being tasty or filling. It’s about remembering the tough days during the subsidy era. Just recently, I shipped a batch to Saigon for the Tam Kỳ hometown club. I guess it brings back memories of their school days — sneaking off to our stall for mít hông, and now eating it again to relive the past. It’s meaningful, you know?”

Before leaving, I bought two boxes to bring home. Just as I was walking off, Duyên’s daughter ran out, excited:

“Uncle, don’t forget to send me the video and your old article about Granny Nam! And your new one too — share it with me on Zalo!”

Time may pass, but Granny Nam’s mít hông stall will always hold a special place in many hearts — a simple corner of the world where the taste of home and childhood memories are lovingly preserved.

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Mr. Old Man – March 2025