It’s said that sup luon (eel soup) is the official dish of the Nghe An province. And nowhere can it be found in such abundance as in Cua Lo Beach. There must be a hundred restaurants that serve up the freshwater eel specialty.

While I haven’t tried them all, I’ve made a concerted effort to shop around. Sup luon is like pizza; everyone has a favorite for reasons all their own. For me, the best soup luon is found at “Thao Phuong Luon” (located at 178 Mai Thuc Loan Street).

I’ve been dining here since I first arrived in Cua Lo (almost 7 years ago). But it wasn’t until recently that I had the chance to actually chat with the owner, Nguyen Thi Phuong. The conversation was made possible through my translator, Vinh University student and Cua Lo native Linh Nhi (whom I affectionately call Willow because of her tall, thin, and lithe stature).

Phuong was born in Nghi Thach (not far from Cua Lo). For thirty years she sold her vaunted sup luon—carrying on a family tradition and adhering to an ancient family recipe. Ten years ago, she moved to Cua Lo and opened her restaurant.

I wondered why her broth was so much more flavorful than the standard fare. I mean, let’s face it, sup luon is not that complicated—it tastes pretty similar wherever you go. But Phuong’s has something more—oomph, pizazz. Phuong smiled in a coy sort of way. “It’s the family recipe,” she confessed. “Though I’ve changed it slightly, adding my flourishes,” she continued, revealing no secrets.

I asked about the special sauce she has available at every table (not the standard fish sauce you find at all restaurants). “Nuoc mam toi ot xanh,” she explained. “Something I created myself,” she added modestly. At this point, Willow explained that the sentence literally translates to “garlic, green pepper, fish sauce.” The name may be self-explanatory, but it is a massively effective enhancer (season to your taste—those green peppers pack a punch—but the sliced garlic is so delicious).

I asked Phuong what made her sup luon stand out; she broke it down as follows. “Everything comes from my kitchen, from the ancient family recipe to the eel itself. Unlike the majority of restaurants, who buy the eel already filleted (because of the painstaking time involved in that process), I buy the eel fresh from the source and have my staff do the prep work. It is time-consuming, but that is the way we do it.

“In the summer, when we are very busy, my people prepare the eel each day. In the off-season, when business is slower, it’s usually every three days. The eel comes from the rice fields to my kitchen to the customer—there is no middleman doing the hard work; that we do ourselves. This way, freshness is assured.”

Frankly, I was proud of my palate. My instincts had been spot on and proved through Phuong’s words and the translations of the beguiling Willow that this sup luon was different indeed!

When we got around to ordering, I asked for banh muot (white rice flour sheets), a pasta-like side dish perfect for dipping and absorbing the broth, while Willow opted for banh mi (fresh baked bread rolls—another option for dipping and dunking). Together we sopped up the entire contents of our bowls—Phuong looking on appreciatively—I suspect her ancestors were proud of the performance.