The Chile Sauce That Powers Hội An

A jar of Ớt Tương Triều Phát, the quintessential chile sauce, graces nearly every table across Vietnam, particularly in the south. This sauce isn’t just about heat; it’s refined, with a gentle simmer that builds a gradual warmth, culminating in a lively finish on the palate. To complement Vietnamese cuisine—rich with cilantro, galangal, and mint—requires a sauce with strength that enhances rather than overwhelms delicate flavors. In this respect, Ớt Tương Triều Phát exemplifies precision, nuance, and balance.

My journey with this celebrated hot sauce began in 2016, when I visited Hội An, the birthplace of the iconic banh mi sandwich in the 1950s. While enjoying a lively food tour, I noticed a multitude of cylindrical bottles showcasing vibrant yellow labels, dark caps, green text, and striking red chile pepper imagery. The display seemed endless. My tour guide, Neville Dean—who founded the Original Taste of Hội An with his wife Colleen nearly a decade ago—encouraged us to try the sauce. The explosion of umami, heat, and unexpected earthiness hit me, suspended in a bright red oil. The chunky consistency arrived like a molten eruption of peppers, captivating yet not overwhelming. I stirred it in as a finishing touch and spooned it over crunchy Vietnamese spring rolls. Pure bliss.

Unlike the well-known Thai Sriracha, which many Americans are now accustomed to, Ớt Tương Triều Phát is neither smooth nor overly tangy. Its texture is more akin to a jam than a typical sauce, and this unique consistency is part of its charm. Crafted by the same family for generations, this Hội An chile sauce holds a cherished place in Vietnamese cuisine, especially in Hội An. The creator, Tran Van Can, affectionately known as “Ms. Van,” adheres to a 150-year-old recipe inherited from her Chinese expatriate family. “My grandmother used to prepare chutneys and satays… which we shared with family,” Ms. Van explains. “As demand grew, she began selling it. She crafted chutneys from fresh chiles, slowly cooked to create a spicy, aromatic blend that leaves a lasting impression on everyone who tastes it.”

The traditional recipe utilizes elephant tusk chiles—known as “ớt chìa vôi” or “lime peppers” by Ms. Van—a large pot, and a three-day preparation process. Ms. Van carefully oversees the chiles, stirring them diligently. “All chile sauce preparation is done by hand,” she explains. “Is our sauce an art form? The quality of the chiles matters too.” In Southeast Asia, these peppers are also referred to as elephant trunk or cow horn chiles due to their unique shape. Part of the capsicum annum species, they originated in India and Central and South America. After selecting the freshest chiles, Ms. Van removes the stems and seeds, grinds them, and stir-fries the mixture. New batches are created every two days, all crafted manually.

“You wouldn’t eat them raw by themselves,” remarks Siem Reap-based food and travel writer Lara Dunston about these peppers. “But once cooked, they range from medium to hot, based on your spice tolerance. They have a hint of sweetness and fruitiness, but when simmered for an extended period, as Ms. Van does, those flavors intensify along with the heat.”

Ms. Van sources her chiles from the foothills of Đại Lộc and Điện Bàn, both located near Hội An. “When I sauté a batch of chiles, I personally oversee every step,” she states. The sauce is a closely guarded recipe that includes “undamaged chiles, garlic, sugar, salt, sesame, peanuts, and vegetable oil.” Like any quality artisanal product, Ớt Tương Triều Phát is not uniform; some bottles may appear crimson while others are a rich cherry red. Depending on the harvest time, specific ingredient blend, and preservation methods—Ms. Van often salts her chiles for preservation due to the limited harvest season—the color and flavor can vary, but the quality remains consistently high.

Chile sauce is integral to the culture of Hội An. Tran T. Duc, chef and owner of local restaurants Mango Mango and Mai Fish, produces his own variation of Ms. Van’s sauce. “Ms. Van and others create their own chile sauces with different proportions of key ingredients,” he notes. “Some add more sugar or salt to enhance shelf life. We have a limit, as we prepare ours fresh on a weekly basis.” Ms. Van’s sauce, which exists in various forms throughout Hội An, is deeply rooted in the town “because it’s made entirely with locally sourced ingredients,” Duc explains. The sauce embodies Hội An’s “rich soil,” enhancing the potency of its components.

So, what pairs well with Ớt Tương Triều Phát? Dunston highly recommends cao lau noodles, a signature dish from Hội An featuring rice noodles, pork, bean sprouts, and fresh herbs. Duc uses the chile sauce not just on cao lau but in various dishes. “We incorporate it from the start of the meal as a mix of chile and soy sauce, dipping crispy rice crackers into it. We also add it to our salad dressings and use it in seasoning pork belly for our cao lau,” he shares. “Cao lau is a special local dish, and we often use this chile sauce as an extra condiment because we enjoy spicy flavors that we can mix into our meals.”

sauce in our salad dressings, as well as a key ingredient in seasoning pork belly for our cao lau,” he explains. “Cao lau is a local delicacy. Residents often use this chile sauce as an additional condiment, as we appreciate a good amount of spice that can be added to our dishes.”

The delicate banh bao banh vac, or white rose dumpling, is another local favorite that, despite its refined appearance, is robust enough to complement that bold, sinus-clearing sauce, especially with a topping of crispy garlic. Ms. Van has her own favorites. “You can pair it directly with beef rolls, bread, chicken rice, curry, hotpot, or steak,” she suggests. “In my view, Triều Phát chile sauce is spicy but not overpowering. It’s aromatic and slightly salty, making it versatile enough to use as a sauce or to enjoy straight.”

Once back in the United States, I reserved my precious bottle of hot sauce for special occasions, as my luggage could only hold one. In this digital age, it felt absurd that something I had savored abroad wasn't available back home, but the reality was that Hội An's magical sauce couldn't be shipped. As my supply dwindled, I launched a frantic search. A travel companion generously gifted me a small portion of her prized stash for my wedding, but that vanished quickly. Ultimately, I reached out to Neville via email. Could he send me a bottle? I was more than willing to cover the shipping costs.

Unfortunately, the answer was no.

“It’s just the saddest news,” Neville replied when I inquired about getting more sauce. “For some reason, the Vietnamese postal service prohibits shipping this sauce (they inspect all incoming and outgoing packages). Additionally, as a small producer, Ms. Van has limited opportunities for export.” Ms. Van, committed to her traditional methods, was content to create her unique sauce for local consumers, regardless of international demand.

“Manufacturing in the United States is our dream,” Ms. Van expressed. “But for now, we are just a small family craft.” She retains full control over her chile sauce, and expanding her operation would mean relinquishing oversight of each batch, a compromise she isn't prepared to make. From my perspective, it seemed Ms. Van already had more local business than she could handle. At various restaurants, bottles of her sauce were tucked into caddies, left on tables, and still full of life. For Neville Dean, my failure to secure even a single drop of that sauce upon returning to the States was merely motivation to keep going.

“Now you have a reason to return to this beautiful place,” he encouraged me in his message.

Hannah Selinger is a freelance writer specializing in food, travel, and lifestyle, residing in East Hampton, New York.Terence Carter is an editorial and commercial photographer based in Southeast Asia, passionate about capturing the essence of people, places, and culinary delights.Fact-checked by Claire Bryant