Trung Kho Recipe (Easier and Improved)

Trung Kho
11 eggs
1/4 c. nuoc mam (fish sauce)
3 large slices of ginger
1/2 tsp. sugar
2-3 c. water

Heat stove to medium high.

Caramellize sugar.

Add water, nuoc mam, and ginger. Add eggs. Simmer:


The yellow wedges are ginger.

Simmer down to about 1/4 c. sauce (or more or less depending on preferences).

The little brown marks are due to the pan being short so the surface of eggs was in direct contact with the bottom of the pan.

Voila, done!

Trung Kho (Braised Eggs)

Forget the chicken (ga). Forget the pork (heo). Who needs either of those when you could have the cheapest, easiest comfort known to man Trung Kho?

For those not in the know, this is a traditional, Vietnamese comfort food traditionally made with pork and eggs braised in fish sauce and sugar. These are the two main ingredients. Depending on the person, water or Coco Rico or coconut juice might be added to it so that the sauce mixture might gradually simmer down from covering the meat to half (or less depending on your preferences or how absent-minded you might be). There is no right or wrong way to go about this dish. It's easily customizable, since it has so few ingredients.

Not fond of pork? Trade in pork for chicken.

Imminently lazy and wanting a cheap comfort? Forget the chicken or pork. Just have eggs!

At home, FS will generally just eat the eggs regardless of whether chicken or pork is involved. The albumen of the eggs turn from white to a light brown, absorbing the sauce to a salty, fish saucy degree. 

(FS isn't the only one who likes this, Wandering Chopsticks published Carmen Cook's input of "...was really pleased with how it came out... I’m not a big meat-eater, and my favorite part of this dish were the eggs. While the meat was good – fall apart tender and flavorful – I would have been happy to just have the eggs.")

This is a great alternative to cooking eggs the usual way (sunny side up, scrambled, frittata-ed). FS probably isn't the only one whose eyes are drawn to one dozen or one and a half dozen carton of eggs under two dollars... and, yet, what to do with all those eggs? This is a conundrum for one family let alone one person. But voila! Trung Kho pops into being (or Ga Kho Trung or Heo Kho Trung).

In fact, the longer the eggs sit in the sauce in your refrigerator, the better they taste. The eggs absorb the sauce during the one hour to one and a half simmer, but also absorb the sauce further over the course of a week, bathing in the sauce and becoming all the more delicious because of that.

10 eggs dedicated to a numeric system based in 10ths.

Trung Kho

10-12 hard-boiled eggs

2-3 c. water

1/4 c. nuoc mam (fish sauce)

1 tbsp. sesame oil

1-2 tsp. soy sauce

1/2 tsp. sugar

Set stove at medium heat. (FS uses a stove with heat as numbers from 0-10 and chooses 7.)

Let sugar caramellize i.e. forget about the sugar on the stove pot until it smokes and turns dark brown. While this occurs, peel the hard-boiled eggs from their stubborn shell (trick: place them in cold water, the cold water will seep into the cracks of the egg shell introducing water pressure between the shell and the egg, making it easier to peel the shell from the egg).

Smoke! Race to pot and fill it half with water. Add in nuoc mam, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Add in eggs.

Simmer for one hour to one half hour. Add more water as need be (depending on sauce quantity preferences).

As evidenced by the picture below, FS forgot about the simmering eggs for quite some time. No biggie, as long as the sauce doesn't disappear complete and the eggs burn. 

Serve with rice.

Reuse your spaghetti sauce jars.

This is probably the habit of every cook: eat your own imperfections before people notice. So that broken egg with its gaping mouth speaks to the Food Scavenger. Eat me, the gash declares, eat me nooooow.

Ca Kho Recipe

"I'm going to make Ca Kho today."

"But it's so salty." And sweet, the Food Scavenger thought, but she didn't say it aloud. "You usually don't like such salty things."

"I don't. That's why I'm going to make it myself."

It took the Food Scavenger three times to arrive at a recipe that was just right. And how right it was. The pot began to smoke a little, the Food Scavenger scurried forth and flipped the fish, whooping over the caramellization, and added a little water to aid in caramellizing the other side of the fish.

The next day (the Food Scavenger was patient, allowing the fish maximum rest and soaking in caramellized sweet and salty juices), the Food Scavenger dug into a bowl of rice with the most amazing, well-balanced of sweet and salt ca kho ever. But of course her love was short-lived, the recipe set to the side to be immortalized till the next time it was needed (the next week and the next and the next for the Food Scavenger's mood held a deep, abiding love for ca kho - ca kho today, ca kho tomorrow, ca kho every day).

The Food Scavenger being a rather a big-mouthed person picked up the phone and proclaimed to any who picked up her triumph. Her phone was not amused.

"But what is ca kho?" The phone would say (or rather, the person on the other end of the phone line).

Words failed the Food Scavenger. How to explain a staple of Vietnamese food? Were there any equivalents in English? Lamely, the Food Scavenger threw words such as "caramellization" and "fish sauce" and "soy sauce" and "marinade" (not even knowing if she was using this word right).

Suffice to say, both the phone and the Food Scavenger were perplexed.

"And this is supposed to be good?" The phone would finally say.

And the Food Scavenger, heart in mouth, stomach flopping at her feet, would say, "Yes." Yesyesyesyesyes!

Ca Kho
1 salmon, cut longitudinally into two inch thick pieces
2 to 3 tablespoon brown sugar (can be increased to a 1/4 cup depending on taste preferences, Food Scavenger prefers ca kho more salty than sweet, hence only a few tablespoons of sugar)
1/4 c. sesame oil (Lian How Brand Jasun Style Sesame Oil)
3 tbsp diced garlic (Jarred SpiceWorld garlic preserved in water and citric acid where 1/2 tsp = 1 clove, since 1 tbsp = 3 tsp = 6 cloves, the equivalent would be 18 cloves. But Food Scavenger loves garlic.)
1/4 c. fish sauce (i.e. nuoc mam, Food Scavenger used Tiparos Fish Sauce)
1/4 c. soy sauce (Mekong Seasoning Sauce, Soya flavor)
Pepper (lots for Food Scavenger who sneezed many times, but felt cheered by the sight of her ca kho dusted with the black and white shimmer of pepper)
5 jalapenos (sliced and laid onto the fish)
Water

Add sugar and dashes of water to pot (Food Scavenger has heavy pot passed on from grandmother, who'd also made ca kho in it - pot is heavy, scratched up, and able to be a weapon at any time). Heat on low, using a silicone spatula (Food Scavenger loves silicone. Silicone is her baking and cooking friend. Life is easier, because of silicone) or any other spatula or spoon on hand to mix sugar and water. Caramellization will begin: the beginning of an amber syrup will form, then bubble.

Add oil. Stir to incorporate caramellized sugar more evenly in oil. Then, add garlic. Stir until garlic browns. Then add fish sauce and soy sauce. Stir all until evenly incorporated and slighly thickened.

Add fish. Liberally pour pepper onto fish. Place slices of jalapeno onto fish, between spaces of fish. Cover and simmer on low heat for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until smoky smell wafts through kitchen and sets off fire alarm. Occasionally (every 15 minutes) during this 45 minutes to 1 hour, uncover and spoon sauces onto fish side not submerged in sauce (this part is optional, but here for the antsy and paranoid cook, who needs something to do).

After 45 minutes to 1 hour, uncover and flip fish. Add water if sauce thickened and burning. Then, cover and simmer again until sauce beneath very thick.  

Ca Kho as can be seen above is rather forgiving. It involves much eye-balling and examination of one's preferences. So there you have it: Ca Kho.