Num Banh-Chok, Rice to Noodle - Part Two

Once Madame Moul has finished teasing the fermented rice dough into a substance resembling (to the eye, not to touch) whipping cream at the stiff-peak stage, it's time to make the num banh-chok.

She starts by spooning the dough into a mold, which consists of a round cylinder covered at the bottom by a perforated piece of metal. Once the mold is filled she places its heavy wooden press on top. (Notice the playing card in the photo above- Madame Moul will use it later to scrape dough off of the press.)

By now the water is boiling vigorously, and she needs to bring it down to a manageable simmer so that the noodles don't break up - easily done by adding a few dippers of cool water to the pot.

There's a double plank suspended directly over the pot, and Madame Moul places the filled mold into an opening cut in its middle; the wooden lip of the mold catches on the planks so that the whole thing doesn't go tumbling into the water.

She then grabs a long log, places it on the 'head' of the mold's press, and sits on one end, using the weight of her body to lower push the thick rice dough through the mold's tiny holes. Even with her weight on the log 'lever' it takes quite a bit of time for all of the dense dough to be extruded.

Once the noodles are in the water Madame Moul removes the mold from its cradle, pulls out the press (the dough is sticky, so this takes a fair bit of effort), and cleans it off with that playing card. She has just enough time to refill the mold and replace the press before the num banh-chok are done,  signaled by their rise to the surface of the water.

Working quickly, she scoops them up in a basket

and carries them to a corner of the yard,

where she cools them off and rids them of any clinging starch with a plunge into a pail of water followed by several rinses.

Then it's over to a covered area where her daughter in-law waits to prepare the noodles for sale. After her mother-in-law slides the noodles into a bowl of water her partner lifts out consistently sized skeins of the by-now firm white threads,

loops them over her forefinger, and gently sluices off excess water with her other hand.

She then forms them into loose coils, which she then squeezes to remove as much water as possible.

Laid in a banana leaf-lined basket in concentric circles, the num banh-chok are ready for market and table.

Are you as awed by this process as we are?

Let's not romanticize it - there's no doubt Madame Moul and her daughter-in-law would welcome automation, or any innovation for that matter, that would lessen the effort and time required to turn rice into noodles. But there's ingenuity and hard-earned skills at play here, and we'll certainly remember this amazing sequence the next time we tuck into a bowl of num banh-chok. 

Comments

[sari tjio]

Wow, this is really an amazing post. Making rice noodle is really a heavy duty work. I never thought about it really. It looked so complicated. I would certainly appreciate more my next bowl of rice noodle soup. BTW. I love your blog. I have been following it for sometime. sari tjio

[sari tjio]

Wow, this is really an amazing post. Making rice noodle is really a heavy duty work. I never thought about it really. It looked so complicated. I would certainly appreciate more my next bowl of rice noodle soup. BTW. I love your blog. I have been following it for sometime. sari tjio

[Kavita Favelle]

Yep, I'm as awed by the process as you are. As you say, it's important not to romanticise a process that exists only because the family can neither afford nor access the automated machinery we are more used to in wealthy regions. But, at the same time, one can't fail to be utterly impressed when one sees a process in action that has clearly been developed and fine-tuned over many years, possibly, many generations.

[Joseph Hayes]

Lovely sequence of photos, great combination of action and intimacy.

[katie]

Wow. I am absolutely in awe of this process. Thank you so much for documenting it and sharing with us - I can honestly say it never occurred to me how much work goes into it. I will definitely be more appreciative of my next bowl of noodles!

[Jennifer]

Oh my gosh. Thank you, Robyn and Dave. That was a breathtaking ride.

[ELE]

Understand the steps of this process are necessitated by need as much as anything else but yes, I am definitely awed.

The Slow Food movement, which at its worst incarnations sometimes comes across as fairly elitist, should take note of folks like Madame Moul who have been quietly contributing to the local food scene without fanfare and without hype.

[Jerry]

Hey, somebody got a new flash. Shiny...

[dave]

Jerry,

My make up artist was called away to an Angelina Jolie shoot..sorry about that.

Dave

[Jerry]

I know what you're feeling. Personally, I don't travel ANYWHERE anymore without my food stylist.

[Dave]

Jerry,

Ditto to that...and absolutely NO brown M&M's on the buffet table!

Dave

[vincent thilbaut]

I've also read your article "Bun, Unplugged" about the automation of the whole process to make those noodles.

Sadly, the automation makes it way too fast and does not give enough time for the rice to ferment. (the same thing happened in the Western world: with automation and chemicals we produce bread that are not similar to the bread we used to make a few hundred years ago i.e. sour in taste due to the lacto-fermentation)

This in turn would affect the gut bacteria of its consumers. Those are subtle changes that can only be felt a few generations down the road.

Great article thanks