Red-hot tradition: Inside the steamy kitchens of Quy Nhon’s fish workers
In the coastal ward of Hai Cang, in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, located in south-central Vietnam, the rhythm of the sea is matched only by the steady hum of labor behind the port. Fishing boats come and go with the tide, but just steps from the docks, another tradition endures in the sweltering, smoky heat.
Salt is spread over fish and squid before steaming to clean them at a fish steaming workshop in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
For nearly 50 years, small fish-steaming workshops—often no more than 400 square feet—have kept dozens of working-class families afloat.
Tucked into narrow alleys and backlots, these steamy kitchens operate day and night, quietly defying the rush of modernization transforming this city.
Inside, the air is heavy with heat and salt.
Workers descale and gut fish before neatly arranging them in bamboo baskets for steaming at a fish processing site in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
Charcoal fires glow beneath stacked metal steamers filled with anchovies, mackerel, tuna, and squid.
The smell is an unmistakably briny and rich.
Temperatures routinely exceed 50 degrees Celsius, sometimes pushing past 70. Newcomers rarely last a day.
A fish steamer tends to a wood fire at a traditional steaming workshop in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
Seafood traders haul in the fresh catch from the port. Then the real work begins.
Mostly older women, their hands rough from years of practice, descale, gut, and clean each fish before layering them neatly onto bamboo trays.
Perfecting the steam is an art passed down through generations.
A worker pours a custom-mixed steaming liquid into a pot at a fish processing facility in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
There are no timers and no thermometers, only instinct.
Workers adjust heat and moisture by feel, watching for subtle changes in color and scent that signal when the fish is done just right.
The day starts before dawn, often by 4:00 am, and doesn’t end until every order is filled.
A pot of squid steams over a red-hot fire at a traditional workshop in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
Wages range from VND200,000 to VND400,000 ($7.7 to $15.4) a day.
It’s modest pay, but it pays the bills and puts children through school.
“It’s hard work, but there’s satisfaction in it,” said Nguyen Van Tuan, who has worked in the trade for more than three decades.
Freshly steamed fish is removed from the pot at a workshop in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
He leans over a steaming tray, his face slick with sweat.
“You have to love it to stay.
"A perfect batch that's firm and flavorful, that’s what we aim for.
"It won’t make you rich, but it keeps the family going.”
Steamed fish retains its shape and texture after processing at a facility in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
In these cramped, airless rooms, where sea air mingles with steam and coal smoke, something deeper than seafood is being preserved.
It’s a way of life rooted in resilience and routine, fueled by pride and necessity.
A worker carries baskets of steamed fish ready for sale at a fish steaming site in Quy Nhon City, Binh Dinh Province, south-central Vietnam, May 2025. Photo: Dung Nhan
The fish-steaming workshops of Quy Nhon aren’t likely to make headlines.
But in the heat and haze, a quiet legacy endures, one tray at a time.
Bao Anh - Dung Nhan - N.Tr. / Tuoi Tre News
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