The young butcher woman was cutting meat

Young female butcher cutting meat — Young woman butcher cutting meat

Walking through the open-air market in My Tho, a town in southern Vietnam, I caught the scent of meat. Following my nose, I came upon a butcher’s stall—simple in construction, with a cloth strung overhead for shade. From an iron bar hung two large cuts of what looked like beef. Directly beneath them sat a scale, the brass counterweights resting neatly on its pan.

The stall was run by a young woman in a brightly patterned shirt, sleeves rolled up as she wielded a large cleaver over a chopping board. Each time the blade fell, a dull crack echoed as it split bone. Her movements were practiced, unhesitating, as if the meat and knife were merely extensions of her hands. When I raised my camera, she seemed to notice, lowering her gaze and allowing the faintest smile to play at her lips—not so much shy as matter-of-fact, as if to say, “Go ahead, if you must.”

In Vietnamese markets, meat is often hung at ambient temperature without refrigeration. For Japanese visitors, in this heat and humidity, that can be a source of worry. But locals buy their meat early in the day and cook it at once, so it rarely becomes a problem. It’s customary here to cook meat thoroughly, both for flavor and to avoid any risk of foodborne illness.

Behind her, a man who seemed to be another vendor was chatting with someone, and the butcher’s corner of the market was wrapped in an easygoing air. I didn’t buy any meat, but the sound of that cleaver striking bone stayed with me, following me all the way down the road.

My Tho on Google Map

Comment via

日本語