To: avsl-l@coombs.anu.edu.au (AVSL discussion group) From: David Marr Subject: Updated notes on the ca cuong (fwd) ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: 26 Apr 94 17:15:41 EDT From: Tu Packard <72570.2002@CompuServe.COM> Subject: Updated notes on the ca cuong 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.