An aromatic chicken soup made according to centuries of Hmong tradition brought comfort to Diane Moua when she first became a mom 23 years ago. She remembers her then-mother-in-law toting the broth in a Tupperware bin into Moua's hospital room.
Hmong custom encourages new moms to eat the chicken herbal soup, freshly cooked rice and warm water — and nothing else — for the first month after giving birth. (Yes, that's for every meal, every day.) The strict postpartum diet is seen as a way to cleanse and heal the body after trauma and transformation.
How did Moua do?
"I did cheat a little," concedes the James Beard-nominated pastry chef and restaurateur. "It's really hard to do it for 30 days. I was craving sweets and gummy bears."
But that's not a slight against the soup itself. Moua describes it as herbaceous, yet not medicinal. Often seasoned with lemongrass and traditional Hmong herbs, it's delicious, she says. It tastes like home.
The soup is not just for postpartum moms; it's a staple in Hmong kitchens. It's good for hangovers, recovering from injuries, or if you just need a pick-me-up. Moua even has plans to introduce a version of it to her patrons at Diane's Place. (You can also go on TikTok and YouTube to find instructions on how to make the simple soup.)
Awash in earth tones, Moua's new restaurant in northeast Minneapolis marries her pastry-making prowess — showcased in previous stops at Spoon and Stable and Bellecour — with the comfort dishes of her Hmong heritage.
The custom of having mothers rest for the first month after labor is common throughout Asia. A Chinese tradition forbids new moms from venturing outside the house or even washing their hair for those first 30 days. In Taiwan, my grandmother stuck mostly to simple broths and sesame oil chicken, all cooked with ginger slices. Cold drinks were verboten, as were certain fruits and vegetables.
In Maplewood, St. John's Hospital has been serving up the Hmong chicken herb soup at least for 19 years. We know this because kids are reliable markers of time: When Moua gave birth to her daughter Lily, who's 19, St. John's was offering it on the hospital menu. Other Twin Cities hospitals, like Regions in St. Paul, also offer the soup to patients.
Famished after labor, Moua says it meant everything to have the soup as her very first meal. (When her son, Thomas, was born four years earlier at a different hospital, Moua remembers her then-husband had to leave her bedside to go home and make the soup.)
"I love that we've normalized it," says Dr. Laurel Ries, a family obstetrics provider at M Health Fairview Clinic Rice Street, where about 40% of her patients are Southeast Asian. "Of course we have this available. This is the food that people eat in our community."
The diet was developed at a time when people didn't have easy access to nutritious foods. And yet, says Ries, the soup has nutritional properties that help women recover and feed their babies. The chicken contains protein needed to heal wounds, as well as iron for replacing blood loss. Rice is a great source for calories, helping increase the supply of breastmilk. The greens provide Vitamin B and a bit of fiber to help with digestion.
My friend Ka Vang stuck to the Hmong chicken diet after giving birth to all three of her children and supplemented it with vitamins. To prepare for the undertaking, she stocked up on herbs at Hmong markets and groceries.
"You can go to Hmongtown or Hmong Village and just say, 'Can I get the Hmong diet chicken soup herbs?' " says Vang, a vice president at Meet Minneapolis. "Everyone will know what you're talking about. In some places, it's already bundled up for you."
And her parents, pleased to see their daughter connect to their culture by committing to the diet, were excited to support Vang. Her dad slaughtered 45 chickens for the occasion. (Many Hmong believe you should use free-range chickens that haven't been pumped with antibiotics.) "My mom was thrilled I was taking it so seriously," she says. "I think it brought us closer because I was willing to do it."
And even though her husband, Brian, doesn't share Vang's Hmong heritage, he also supported her by quartering the whole chickens and making the broth. Vang swears by its healing properties, but says she also did it to honor her culture.
"I know this sounds kind of sappy, but I felt like the spirits of my ancestors were happy," she says. "I felt their support, too."
Fresh Chicken with Hmong Herbs
Nqaij Qaib Hau Xyaw Tshuaj
How to make the signature Hmong chicken herb soup? Ask five different Hmong people, and you may get five different answers. This recipe is from the cookbook "Cooking from the Heart: The Hmong Kitchen in America," by Sami Scripter and Sheng Yang. (University of Minnesota Press, 2009).
Makes 1 pot of soup.
• 1 whole fresh chicken (the kind purchased from a Hmong market or home farm)
• 10 cups water
• 1 stalk lemongrass, tough outer leaves and root removed
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
Hmong herbs: Each cook cites favorite herbs, often including hmab ntsha ntsuab (slippery vegetable), koj liab (angelica, sometimes called duck-feet herb), ntiv (sweet fern), pawj qaib (sweet flag), tseej ntug (common dayflower) and ncaug txhav and tshab xyoob (for which no English translations are available).
Directions: Clean and chop up the chicken into about 16 pieces. Refrigerate the giblets for other uses. Pick or buy the herbs shortly before using, and wash them carefully. Several sprigs of each herb is the customary amount. In a medium-sized pot, bring the water to a boil. Add the lemongrass, salt and pepper. Bring the water back to a boil and add the chicken pieces. Boil 15 minutes (do not overcook the chicken). Add the herbs and cook a few more minutes. Remove the lemongrass and serve with rice.
Tip: The authors note that the soup "will not be the same if mass-produced and processed chicken pieces are used. However, for cooks that do not have Hmong herbs, but want to taste a reasonably facsimile of this soup, add celery, bitter lettuce and basil leaves to the broth for the last few minutes of cooking."