This Tết, you’re invited to my grandma’s house for a true-blue Tết meal of Hoa Vietnamese, comprising char siu, khâu nhục (braised pork belly), cured duck meat, etc. Then, you can think of the best well-wishing for my grandparents, after which they will give you a red envelope. In my experience, the cleverer and more sincere the wish, the thicker the envelope would be. Before you leave, she would pack up a bánh tổ for you to take home, and store in your fridge to tie you over for the rest of the Tết holiday, as she believes that the core values of Tết are connections and generosity.
Bánh tổ is a traditional confectionery of the Hoa ethnic minority, often consumed during ceremonial occasions, especially Tết and Tết Đoan Ngọ, which celebrates the midyear mark. In Sino-Vietnamese, it’s called niên cao (niángāo), a homonym of “a greater year.” Symbolizing the hopes of self-improvement in a new year, bánh tổ is believed to be an auspicious snack if eaten during special occasions. According to historical sources, it was brought by Chinese merchants into Hội An (Quảng Nam) in the 16th–17th century; residents used bánh tổ as an ancestral offering, so it was given the name “bánh tổ.” Over time, bánh tổ has become an indispensable element of Tết in Central Vietnam.
Bánh tổ is an indispensable element of Tết of Hoa Vietnamese families.
Hoa Vietnamese follow the belief that offerings to Ông Táo (the Kitchen God) must include items that are “sticky” and “sweet” to bribe him into ignoring the household’s faults during the year in his annual report to the Jade Emperor in heaven. Thus, bánh tổ is not just a common feature of usual ancestral feasts, but also those put together for the annual Kitchen God day as a delicious bribe. This distinguishes the Hoa offering platter from the Kinh version, which often consists of sticky rice, poached chicken, sweets, areca nuts, betel leaves, and liquor.
The main ingredients of bánh tổ are glutinous rice powder, sugar, and, sometimes, red beans as the filling — much simpler than other Hoa Tết treats like bánh thuẫn, bánh phát tài or bánh xếp. To make bánh tổ, the powder is mixed with sugar syrup and steamed in a cylindrical mold with banana leaf beneath. It’s a simple enough process that many Hoa families traditionally make them at home for special occasions.
Bánh tổ has a bright shade of golden orange and comes in various sizes. Prices start from VND80,000 per kilogram.
For my family, nothing compares to the joy of shopping before Tết to prepare for the upcoming holiday. Wandering through Chợ Lớn to marvel at the merchandise is much more fun than visiting relatives or gathering at family meals. I can’t put my finger on why I enjoy trips with my mom and grandma to the market during the last days of the lunar calendar, even though the price gouging is apparent and streets are ever-congested. I’ve always thought that this is the best time of the year to be in Saigon; when everyone looks forward to time with family and an impending Tết.
All through the year, I’ve gotten used to seeing my family working and saving tirelessly so they can afford to spend a bit more during this time to decorate and renovate our home to prepare for a new year. If splurging on half a kilogram more of pork can be a tough decision on any other day, during Tết, this spending is a no-brainer: “Not just for our family, but we also prepare enough to feed our relatives and neighbors too,” my grandma often says. Paying nearly VND100,000 just for a pastry like bánh tổ on a normal day would probably yield some passionate disapproval from her, but if it’s for Tết, she could happily spend VND500,000 just to have enough to share with her grandkids, relatives and even those living next door.
A stall with all sorts of Tết treats at the corner of Phùng Hưng and Nguyễn Trãi streets.
The flavor profile of bánh tổ evokes a sense of prosperity and richness, from the moreish sweetness of the sugar to the glutinous and sticky texture of the rice, creating something both rustic and enticing as each bite dissolves in your mouth. The primordial version of bánh tổ is just brown, but in order to zhuzh it up for Tết, bánh makers in Chợ Lớn add in turmeric powder to create that appealing shade of yellow.
More often than not, freshly bought bánh tổ can already be sliced and eaten straight away, though it can be kept for a month. After a while, bánh tổ is often thinly sliced, dipped in an egg mixture, and fried on the stove. This way of transforming leftovers reminds me of bánh chưng or bánh tét, both traditional altar offerings that can be the savior during the early days of the holiday when grocery vendors and supermarkets are not open yet. In those moments, the traditional rice cakes become “fridge-cleaning” dishes for the entire family, commonly consumed with pickles to balance out the greasiness of the frying.
From the middle of the last month of the lunar calendar, Saigoneers have already started shopping for Tết.
With each Tết past, away from my grandparents, I can feel a distance forming between me and my roots. Bánh tổ is perhaps the remaining link connecting me with my Hoa traditions. It’s not just a familiar taste, but also an embodiment of the spirits of generosity and bonding in a community, so that everyone can be as closely “sticking” together like bánh tổ.
