nước mắm cằn cuống

C’est quoi ça? Depuis ma naissance…je n’entends jamais cette sauce?

Huynhthibich, Namnam :bye:

Cà cuống (et non Cằn cuống) est le nom d’une nèpe (ou «scorpion d’eau»).

On en tire une essence qui est récoltée en collectant les sacs produisant ce liquide sur l’insecte, et le liquide est placé à l’intérieur de petites fioles de verre.

L’essence de Cà cuống est typiquement utilisée avec parcimonie et mangée avec des rouleaux de printemps en ajoutant une goutte à la sauce « nước mắm ».

Dans certains préparations, à la façon du Nord, de « Bánh Chưng » au nouvel an vietnamien (fête du Têt), on y rajoute aussi cet essence pour donner du goût.

Voici la bête et le lien :

Ha! c’est donc ça! Cela fait bien 40 ans que je n’en ai pas vu. Dans mon souvenir, c’était vendu dans un tout petit flacon (avec l’insecte encore dedans et que j’appelais « cafard d’eau ») comportant un compte-gouttes. Mes parents en mettaient aussi dans le Mi. Un parfum très particulier et très puissant. Celui qui ne voyait pas la bestiole pensait que cet arôme provenait d’une fleur.
Tu ne me rajeunis pas NVTL! Merci pour ta science
:bye:

C’est effectivement excellent dans le nuoc mam.
Par contre, il semble que cet insecte est en voie de disparition et que l’essence qui en est extraite atteint des prix faramineux.
Aux USA on peut trouver une essence artificielle obtenue par synthèse, mais franchement, tout en rappelant l’idée, c’est assez loin d’être aussi parfumé que l’essence naturelle.

Bonjour à tous,

Je connaissais, mais je remercie pour le lien Wikipedia, où j’ai appris que ce précieux liquide n’était fabriqué que par les mâles, pour attirer les femelles (punaises, pas scorpions, et pas Belostama, comme étiqueté par erreur, dixit l’article).

En fait, je ne connais que l’ersatz de synthèse thaï, vendu en France, moins cher mais tout aussi rare, à en juger par la difficulté pour en trouver à Paris quand j’y ai fait un saut, l’an dernier Le véritable élixir, s’il était emporté par les fugitifs de la guerre, avait donc autant de valeur que diamants et autes pierres précieuses ! Avec l’avantage d’être plus lèger, en outre. C’est un détail émouvant de ce triste passé.

Amicalement,

Thu Huong

On ne finira jamais d’apprendre sur Forum Vietnam…:jap:.
Questions???
Est ce que cet insecte est toujours cultivé au Vietnam??
En bassin ou dans l’élément naturel???
En eau douce ou en eau de mer??
Dans quelles régions???
Son suc est il toujours servi dans les restaurants???
Combien d’insectes pour combien de litres de cette potion magique??
Qui peut bien m’expliquer par quel moyen et par quelle méthode on extrait le nectar??
La bestiole est elle réutilisable au contraire des pauvres porteuses de foi gras??
Car j’avoue, me référant au post de abgech ci dessus, il y a de quoi s’enrichir pour qui voudra bien se lancer en raison de la rareté du produit (comme le riz et le pétrole aujourd’hui)

Bebe, n’as-tu pas vu le lien wikipédia donné par NVTL ? :
Ca cuong РWikip̩dia
Pour plus de renseignements, il faudra trouver une bonne âme pour nous traduire la version viET :
Cà cuống
Cà cuống – Wikipedia tiếng Việt

A cause des pesticides, l’insecte aurait pratiquement disparu au Vietnam. On en trouverait encore au Cambodge.

Je suis bien allé au lien DEDE, mais avoues que ce n’est pas très complet. Il me faut vraiment l’avis de gens ayant touché cette affaire du doigt:jap:

Wikipédia ne répond pas aux questions précises que j’ai posées :wink2:

Voila ce que j’ai trouvé mais en anglais:ainsi que le lien (A la fin du texte, on y parle de ce spècialiste Vietnamien: Dr. Manh is also Deputy Dean of the Faculty of Agro-Biology at the National Pedagogical Institute in
Tuliem, Hanoi. The telephone number is
84 4 243 423.

http://coombs.anu.edu.au/~vern/wild-trade/docs/cacuong.txt
To: [email protected]

For some time now I have been urging friends to consider an
effort to save the ca cuong, whose scientific name is Belostoma
Indica Vitalis (Lethocerus Indicus Lep). A marvelous water bug
long prized by Vietnamese epicures, it is in danger of becoming
extinct. That would be a loss not only for gastronomy but really
for anyone who cares about preserving the diversity of life on our
planet.

A project to study and rescue the ca cuong will surely cull
from the woodwork entomologists of a gastronomic bent. I was
challenged to explain why we should even bother to take the
trouble. Perhaps you will be persuaded by my notes, appended
below:

Notes on the Ca Cuong Water Bug

My earliest memories of the ca cuong can’t be separated from
the pleasures of eating. My grandmother would prepare bun thang,
noodles in a glorious chicken broth topped with thin slivers of
omelette, steamed chicken breast, and cha, a smooth textured pate.
It would be served with nuoc mam, a fish sauce mixed with lemon
juice, minced ginger and garlic, and just one drop of the ca cuong
essence. That one drop alone suffused the broth with an
indescribable fragrance. Enough for the whole family.

Even at the age of five I knew that the ca cuong was a
wonderful precious creature. In times of war and social turmoil,
vials of ca cuong essence was the preferred liquid (!!) asset. It
was considered better than gold because, like rare stamps, much
value could be concentrated in a small and portable object. Just
grab it and run.

My mother told of families she knew who escaped from Laos to
Thailand, driven out by the terror of French bombs (this was around
1945 or 1946, during the First Indochina War when the French tried
to restore colonial rule). They would flee with barely the clothes
on their back and (luckily for them) vials of this sublime essence.
It gave them the capital they needed to start a new life.

Thirty years of living in the US has not diminished my yearning
for the ca cuong; the cherished bun thang is incomplete without a
drop of ca cuong juice. The tiny vials brought by visiting
relatives during the early 1960s were gratefully received and
sparingly used.

Two years ago, in the course of chatting with an uncle who
travels frequently to Vietnam, I discovered that the beloved ca
cuong was hardly seen around anymore. So in June 1990, when I had
the opportunity to participate in some seminars in Hanoi and
Saigon, I was determined to learn more about its fate.

In the course of my investigation, I invited G., a dear friend
of mine who lives in Paris, to put himself in a Proustian mood and
tell me his memories of the ca cuong. He demurred, claiming to
have neither Proust’s soul nor his « etoffe » (literally: stuff,
fabric, cloth). The word ca cuong releases only « reflexes » of a
documentary nature, he avers. Then he offers a smattering of the
« disorder » that passes through his head: an earthy proverb, some
sociological and economic observations, a sad reflection, etc. (His
actual comments, in French, defy translation.)

The proverb — « ca cuong chet den dit con cay » — also is
difficult to translate. It’s a variant of the observation that one
can’t change the basic nature of things. This is the literal
version: « the ca cuong, dead, on reaching the anus is still
(peppery) hot ». The essence of the ca cuong is located in its tail
area; savoring its flavors, one runs the risk of feeling its
effects in one’s own tail area. The ca cuong also is thought to be
an aphrodisiac, adding further ambiguity to the proverb.

Only the male has a developed bladder. During the mating
season, he secretes a special essence from his bladder to attract
females of his species. According to Do Tat Loi, an authority on
traditional sources of Vietnamese medicine, through experiments
scientists have found that small doses of the essence produced by
the male ca cuong stimulates the nervous system and the genital
areas. In large doses, it has a toxic effect.

The ca cuong is a large, greyish brown water bug that is often
found in water-logged fields, ponds, and rivers. Under water,
these bugs are usually observed — head pointed down, tail pointed
up — attached to a blade of grass. Lying in this position, the
tip of its abdomen held above water level, two skinny breathing
tubes extended up to suck in air, the ca cuong waits to trap its
prey. On either side of its soft furry stomach are two sharp tubes
that it can extend or retract at will. This is the instrument the
ca cuong uses to sting its victims, and it can inflict a painful
bite. It mainly subsists on a diet of fish eggs and molluscs. At
full maturity it is seven to eight centimeters long, three
centimeters wide, and weighs about nine and a half grams.

Dissecting the ca cuong, one finds that its digestive tract is
approximately 45 cm long; this includes a small tube on the top
that forms the aesophagus. At the lower end of the tract is a
large swelling that discharges a pungent smelling liquid. Adjacent
to this are two sharp tubes which the ca cuong can extend or
retract. If you pull hard at these tubes you will be able to pull
out its entire digestive tract. Underneath this creature’s chest,
near the back area, you will see two small tubes (the vesica).
Each one, white in color, is 2 – 3 cm long, 2 – 3 mm wide; inside
the vesica is an aromatic liquid, the ca cuong essence. However
only in the male is this organ developed.

They breed during the rainy months — in late spring and early
summer. Their eggs are laid in buns that resemble a mulberry fruit
and attach to herb or water rice plants. Each bun holds hundreds
of eggs. The parents hover about the egg bun. It is hypothesized
that they are there to protect the eggs and occasionally to fan
them with air. It takes 40 to 50 days from the time the egg
hatches for the ca cuong to reach full maturity.

The ca cuong are found in both northern and southern regions,
but in the past they were most numerous in the north as they
preferred both a warm climate and a cold season.

Like me, G.’s memories tend toward the epicurean. He recalls
that ca cuong season comes in late spring, early summer. The ca
cuong is caught, cooked whole, and then mashed in a bowl of nuoc
mam. This dish, bap cai luoc (« cabbage cooked in water »), is a
cousin of the Italian bagna caoda. The family gathers round,
dipping cabbage leaves in the shared nuoc mam bowl. Yet the
sensations evoked have less of a physical or olefactive quality.
What dominates for him are the feelings of a new season, of
changing seasons.

There are certain types of ca cuong that can be eaten whole,
tossed in a saute or ground up and added to the filling of the
traditional banh trung, special moon cakes prepared for the Tet or
Vietnamese New Year holiday. The ca cuong is an essential
ingredient in another famous dish, the cha ca, a pate of fish
cooked at the table with a leafy vegetable from the watercress
family, which is then dipped in a mam tom or shrimp paste sauce to
which a drop of the ca cuong essence is added.

Its fragrance is difficult to describe. Not long ago I went
to have my hair washed and cut. Suddenly I smelled something that
reminded me of the ca cuong. It turned out to be a hair rinse of
apple cider vinegar.

Socio-economic aspect: in the north, chemical fertilizers and
pesticides have driven away the ca cuong. There are practically
none left. In the south, they huddle in the Plain of Canes. But
the ca cuong essence can no longer be bought in the open market.
(That was my experience: one of my aunts, who lives in the old
quarters of Hanoi, scoured the entire city for ca cuong essence in
her desire to indulge my obsession. Alas, no luck!) The apparent
reason is that the market has been cornered by people who plan to
leave the country (either through the Orderly Departure Program or
other means). They have systematically bought up this liquid in
place of dollars or gold. Abroad, they can practically name their
price. According to my friend, the gastronomes of Bolsa Avenue in
Orange County (a reference to a well-known hangout of affluent
Vietnamese-Americans) dream of true ca cuong, not the synthetic
stuff Thailand exports. (The Thai stuff is horrible. I remember
it well. My teeth still rattles from the taste.)

The few ca cuong left today hover around Ho Tay (West Lake) in
Hanoi. During ca cuong season, attracted by the projection lights
on the Ba Dinh esplanade, they fly around the mausoleum of
Uncle Ho. They in turn draw out the Hanoians, who congregate
around the lampadaries of the esplanade.

Other friends also have come to the rescue with intriguing
stories about the ca cuong in antiquity. David Marr, who is known
for his marvelous scholarship on Vietnamese history, sent from
Australia an article by Nguyen Cong Tieu on Tonkin’s edible
insects. It was published in the Bulletin Economique de
l’Indochine over 60 years ago (1928 to be precise). I was not
surprised to learn from the author that this delightful bug was
party to an ancient diplomatic flap, one of many in the long and
difficult history of Sino-Vietnamese relations.

Apparently the gastronomic qualities of the ca cuong was
appreciated as early as the period of Emperor Trieu Da (207-137
BC). Legend has it that Da, a Chinese general who became Emperor
of Annam (central Vietnam), sent a certain number of these insects
as tribute, along with other precious objects, to the ruler of the
Middle Kingdom (China). The Son of Heaven (aka the Emperor of
China) inquired as to its name. To inflate its value, Da concocted
the name « cinnamon-tree weevil » (charanon du cannelier) in honor
of its distinctive fragrance.

The disbelieving Son of Heaven sent back a reproachful letter
in the form of a play on words. The gist of the message: he knew
quite well that no Annamite called it by that name, and Trieu Da
ought not assume that his betters would be gulled by such
monkey-shine. As a result of this incident the insect came to be
called ca cuong, actually a mangling of the word « Da cuong » which
literally translates as « Da embarrassed » (or Da caught with his
pants down).

Conclusion: to allow the gradual extinction of this fabulous
creature is unthinkable. From a food lover’s point of view, it may
be better to give up capers or truffles. Moreover, an effort to
save this species may further the science of entomology: studying
the life cycle of the ca cuong could offer insights that
may advance research in integrated pest management (IPM).

A project to study the ca cuong in order to prevent its
extinction has many beneficial side effects:
1. It can help promote the environment. A hospitable climate for
the ca cuong is one that is free from chemical fertilizers and
pesticides. Thus an effort to save the ca cuong from extinction is
but one component of a wider effort to promote sustainable
agriculture.

Vietnam, like other Third World countries, spends far too much
of its scarce foreign exchange resources on imports of chemical
fertilizers whose long term benefits are questionable at best.
This is a pity, because we have the technical and physical
resources to produce our own organic fertilizers. Nutrients from
organic fertilizers are released in amounts that plants can absorb
which eliminates the problem of excess nitrates leaching out during
a rain. For a number of reasons that I will not go into here,
organic fertilizers also augment plant resistance to disease.

[Update: Dr. Phan Van Huu, a Canadian-based specialist in
biology, founded the Thien Nong company in 1989 to manufacture a
non-chemical fertilizer. He started with a small workshop in Nghia
Do (Hanoi) and now has four affiliate plants in Quang Binh, Nam Ha,
Ha Tay and Vinh Phu. Five additional provinces have negotiated
with the company to set up local factories. A research committee
of Vietnam’s Union of Sciences and Technology headed by Professor
Ha Hoc Trac concluded that Thien Nong fertilizer can increase plant
productivity by ten to fifty percent. Recently, Thien Nong
exported its first 10,000 tons of biological fertilizer to
Thailand.]

2. Cultivating the ca cuong and exporting its essence may generate
hard currency revenues (recall the gastronomes of Bolsa Avenue!) of
an amount not to be sniffed at. It would constitute an important
source of supplemental income to the farmer and provide an
incentive to shift away from environmentally hostile methods of
agriculture. It is not impossible that non-Vietnamese epicures, upon
tasting the ca cuong flavor, may fall under its spell. This would
greatly expand the market for ca cuong essence.

3. A project to study the conditions that would allow the ca cuong
to flourish would enhance other research in integrated pest
management (IPM) techniques that would be appropriate for
environmental conditions in Vietnam. Developed in conjunction with
a traveling program to stimulate the study of field entomology
among rural school children, it would promote greater understanding
and acceptance of IPM methods (and also demonstrate that we don’t
need expensive laboratory equipment to teach good science.)

The rural school children are Vietnam’s future farmers; a
hands-on program that teaches the investigation techniques of the
entomologist may be their first introduction to IPM concepts. As
the children share what they have learned with their parents,
village elders may be more receptive to environmentally sound ways
to handle pests.

In my opinion, an effort to save the ca cuong is a metaphor for
saving what is delightful in our country. Given the conditions the
ca cuong requires to thrive, one could say that what is good for
the ca cuong is also good for the children of Vietnam (a healthy
and chemical free environment!)

End of Notes.
March 1991 (updated April 1994)

Postscript: when I returned to Hanoi in the spring of 1992, I
learned through friends that a professor of zoology, Dr. Vu Quang
Manh, had on his own initiated efforts to study the ca cuong in
order to save it from extinction.

Thus far the only assistance he has received is a modest $ 200
grant from VNHELP, a small nonprofit foundation established by
Vietnamese-Americans that provides funds and other assistance for
small-scale people-to-people humanitarian projects in Vietnam.

I was able to meet Dr. Manh several times and to visit his
makeshift lab. I was astonished by what he was able to do with so
few resources. The university campus was perhaps the dingiest I
have ever set foot on, and his lab woefully austere. Yet the man
himself radiated optimism, joy, resourcefulness and dedication. On
his own initiative, and in spite of his meager teacher’s salary ($
15 a month) and his family responsibilities, he managed to assemble
a laboratory, scrounging cast-off equipment from colleagues.

He has spent several years studying the life cycle of the ca cuong.
He says they are gluttonous carnivores, sucking fluid and blood
from molluscs, small frogs and fishes, and even other insects. He
has even heard of instances where they have attacked large warm-
blooded animals. There are two types that he is studying. One
kind has a rather nasty disposition, he observes. Despite their
repellent appearance and demeanor, his sentiments towards them are
altogether humanitarian: he would like to find a way to extract the
essence without causing harm to the ca cuong. He told me he had
arrived at the same conclusion as I had — that peasant households
could learn to breed the ca cuong as an additional source of family
income; he showed me plans for an experimental project to encourage
rural households to raise this water bug in their ponds. He is an
acknowledged authority on the ca cuong, and was invited to
contribute an article on the ca cuong for the « Red Book » which is
a well-known and highly regarded compilation of Vietnam’s
endangered species.

Dr. Manh is also Deputy Dean of the Faculty of Agro-Biology at the
National Pedagogical Institute in Tuliem, Hanoi. The telephone
number is 84 4 243 423.

Tien mon BEBE : Tout un plateau de ca cuong frit que j’ai trouvé en Thailande ; euh sur vikipedia anglais :
Dans le nord-est de la Thailande, cet insecte appelé mang dah; Thai: แมงดา est frit et mangé en entier plutôt que son extrait
Lethocerus indicus – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

DédéHeo;53871 wrote:

Tien mon BEBE : Tout un plateau de ca cuong frit que j’ai trouvé en Thailande ; euh sur vikipedia anglais :
Dans le nord-est de la Thailande, cet insecte appelé mang dah; Thai: แมงดา est frit et mangé en entier plutôt que son extrait
Lethocerus indicus – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Merci DEDE. tu as gouté???:icon_scratch::icon_scratch:
Au moins j’ai un début d’explication par l’image

Bonjour,
J’ai eu l’occasion d’aller en Thaïlande, il y a une quinzaine d’années, et notre guide nous avait montré ces insectes qui volaient autour des réverbères et des lampes allumées exprès devant les habitations d’un village. Ce n’était pas vraiment un élevage, mais ils produisaient cet extrait si délicieux que je n’ai plus retrouvé. On nous a proposé de goûter aux cigales frites. Personnellement je me suis dérobé : quelle honte !
Quant au flacon si précieux emporté par mes parents en 1955, plus de compte-gouttes, on y trempait un cure-dent pour parfumer soupes et autres sauces…Tout a une fin.

J’avais déja gouté à des soupes avec cette essence de ca cuong et c’est très fort. Si on a le malheur d’en mettre trop c’est immangeable. Maintenant que Dédé m’a ouvert les yeux sur le bebetes frits:(
Il y a de moments comme ça où je préfere le son à l’image.:bye: