The dawn mist clung low on the mountains, the sun just a whisper on the horizon. My hands were already stained with the earth’s embrace, the rich soil of Xuan Ai cool between my fingers. It’s harvest day, a sacred ritual passed down through nearly 200 years of cinnamon farming in our village. We call it ‘cay vang xanh’, our green gold tree, and its spicy aroma fills the air, almost like a whisper from the past. Just like the tales my grandfather used to share—stories of spice routes and distant lands, of ceylon cinnamon, the famed rival of our own Vietnamese treasure.
Why Ceylon Cinnamon Matters to Us
Honestly, I first heard about ceylon cinnamon when I was just a boy. Sitting on my grandfather’s lap, he told me of the exotic cinnamon from Sri Lanka, lighter and milder than our own. But it isn’t the same as our cassia, he would say, with a wink and a twinkle in his eye. No middlemen, he’d remind us. Our cinnamon goes directly from tree to table, ensuring fair prices for our hard work. Just like the Dao, the first planters of our region, who respected the land and shared in its bounty.
How We Harvest Our Cinnamon
Years of patience culminate in the harvest. From year 1 to year 5, we plant and nurture. Come year 8, we prepare to peel the bark with our curved knives, each slice releasing that familiar scent that weaves its way through our village. In autumn, from August to September, the bark is thick with oil, up to 5% in peak years. Unlike ceylon cinnamon, which has its own unique harvesting methods, our trees stand proud, growing stronger in the cool mountain altitudes, their essence rich with our history.
3 Differences: Vietnamese Cinnamon vs Ceylon Cinnamon
Some say ceylon cinnamon is the true cinnamon, but here in Lao Cai, cassia is king. First, there’s the aroma—ceylon is delicate, while ours is bold, spicy. Next, the bark—thicker and coarser, perfect for sticks and splits. Finally, the oil content in our Vietnamese cinnamon is more robust, giving it a longer shelf life and a warmer, stronger flavor. While both have their place in kitchens around the world, our cinnamon speaks the language of the hills, the language of our people.
Connecting to Our Roots: How Cassia Speaks
Look, every time I dig my fingers into the soil, every whiff of sun-dried bark, I’m reminded of ceylon cinnamon and its place on the world stage. But more importantly, I’m reminded of my roots, of the stories and the traditions that shape who we are and what we do here at our story. Each autumn harvest, as we’re peeling the bark, carefully laying it on bamboo racks to dry in the sun, I realize that while ceylon cinnamon tells one story, our Vietnamese cassia tells another.
And this is what I share with you through our Vietnamese cinnamon. Each product carries the essence of Xuan Ai, the history, and the heart of our people. So whether you’re savoring the spicy warmth that only our cinnamon can offer or simply curious about the tales behind its rich aroma, know it’s a piece of our life and land, grown and cared for by hands like mine. From my heart to your kitchen, this is our offering, our gift.