The final scallion harvest of the year on Lý Sơn Special Zone often bursts into bloom just as the sea begins to turn rough. For islanders, this moment not only signals the end of a farming season but also marks the time when scallion flower stalks become a precious source of fresh, fragrant, and nutritious greens during stormy days.
Around the tenth lunar month, when the northeast monsoon arrives, rough seas frequently prevent boats from the mainland from reaching the island. Fresh vegetables therefore become scarce. Yet at precisely this time, scallion fields on Lớn Island and Bé Island simultaneously send up tall stalks, blooming with pale white and light purple flowers—bringing with them a special “gift” from nature for the island community.
According to Mr. Bùi Đạt, a long-time resident of Lý Sơn, when scallions begin to flower, farmers intentionally trim some of the stalks so the plant can focus its energy on developing the bulbs. These flower stalks are not discarded; instead, they are taken home and turned into familiar dishes in everyday family meals. Scallion flower stalks can be stir-fried with beef, with squid, or simply stir-fried on their own and eaten with hot rice—economical, delicious, and rich in vitamins.
The stalks, about the thickness of chopsticks, are washed clean and cut into 3–5 cm lengths before being added to a hot pan. Timing is crucial: they must be cooked just until tender-crisp to retain their crunch and avoid becoming limp. As a result, stir-fried cuttlefish with scallion flower stalks has become a “signature dish of the rough-sea season”—the chewiness of fresh squid blending perfectly with the crisp, aromatic, slightly pungent stalks, creating a deeply satisfying bite.
On cold, rainy days, few things feel more comforting than a simple meal: a steaming plate of stir-fried scallion flower stalks, a bowl of hot white rice, and a dish of rich anchovy fish sauce. The gentle sharpness of the scallions, the sweetness of the meat, and a hint of peppery warmth come together, warming the body with every mouthful. When cooked with squid, locals jokingly call it a dish of “double crunch”—the crunch of fresh squid and the crunch of perfectly cooked scallion stalks, which also help neutralize any fishy aroma.
For something a bit more elaborate, some families marinate scallion flower stalks with beef and grill them over glowing charcoal. The family gathers around the warm fire, waiting for the meat to cook just right, then picking up slices of beef with a few stalks of scallion, dipping them in chili salt, blowing gently to cool them before eating. In the early winter chill, this moment captures a uniquely Lý Sơn feeling—simple, intimate, and unforgettable.
From sandy soil that endures salty winds and harsh sunlight year-round, Lý Sơn scallion flower stalks still grow green and vibrant, absorbing the essence of earth, sky, and sea. Unpretentious and humble, dishes made from these stalks carry a flavor that is distinctly island-born—enough to make islanders living far from home ache with nostalgia, and enough to leave travelers who have tasted them deeply attached to a rustic, affordable, yet profoundly heartfelt island delicacy.
