Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
nodded to his right, toward the side of the house, where chickens were scratching in the
dirt—“and it had properties similar to the Ba Le well.”
The main component, he said, was alum, a chemical compound that has been known to
have medicinal and preservative properties (and is sometimes used in baking powders).
“What about the wood,” I asked, “the wood from the Cham Islands?”
Em laughed, shook his head, and said, “Cham is now protected, so we get all this wood
from the surrounding area. It's the same type of tree, though.”
Em added, “Sure, the water and the wood are essential to make cao lau, but our family has
been making cao lau noodles for so long that we have a reputation now.” Translation: it's not
so much about the water or the wood; it's the technique. Em has been doing this routine 364
days a year, taking a day off for the beginning of Tet, the lunar new year, since he was 12.
Just then his son turned up on a motorbike, returning from his first round of delivering
noodles to various restaurants around town. Em nodded toward him and said, “He's next. At
least I hope so.”
“So you're not sure he'll take over your job?” I asked.
“We don't want to push him. He has a good career as a tailor in the center of town,”
Em said. “But if he doesn't do it, then it could mean the end of our family making cao lau
noodles.”
A silence fell over us for a moment. Then Em told us a story:
One day, about a year or so ago, a government official showed up and said the family had
to be more open about the secret of the noodles—that if something happened to the family,
there would be no one to make them. Now that Hoi An is thriving with tourism, city officials
said it would be a disaster if cao lau, the city's chief culinary attraction, disappeared.
“This is why,” Em said, “we decided it would be okay if you watched us make it.”
Everything was starting to make sense.
“Since we're not sure what the future holds for cao lau noodles, I would teach someone
howtomakethem,”Emsaid,pausingbeforeadding:“Foraprice.”WhenIpromptedhim,he
saidhe'ddoitfor100milliondong(about$4,800).Iwastemptedtotakehimuponhisoffer
but it felt like too much pressure to be the sole upholder of the cao lau legacy. So I passed.
Given the greater opportunities young Vietnamese have in Hoi An these days, and the la-
borious life of a cao lau maker, it's hard to imagine someone would want to assume the cao
lau-making mantle. The irony is that Hoi An's rise as a prosperous tourist attraction is also
threatening the existence of the town's most iconic dish. Cao lau's survival depended on the
peopleIwasstandingwith:Em,hisson,andthevariousfamilymemberswhohelpmakecao
lau noodles daily (as well as Madame Trai, who sells them at the market).
And with that, Em's son, who makes his deliveries every day before going to his tailor
job, wrapped a bungee cord around the packages of freshly made noodles on the back of his
