Mom cuts the rice paper sheets into quarters for bite-sized rolls, and shows Tin, Hoa and me how to make the rolls. To make each roll, she first softens a piece of rice paper with beer, because beer makes the spring roll skin crispier when fried. She scoops a tablespoon of the filling mixture onto the softened rice paper, folds the right and left sides in, folds the bottom edge up and keeps rolling from there to form one spring roll.

Our rolls are not as neatly rolled as the sample of Mom’s work.

Mom puts on her apron to fry the spring rolls in a large wok filled with sizzling vegetable oil. She stirs them with a pair of long chopsticks until they turn to a pleasing golden brown.

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Hoa and Tin sample a whole bunch of spring rolls, and Mom lets them.

I gather all the goodies we’ve made for the day onto my vending tray, laying them out neatly in their proper groups. The tray’s loaded with spring rolls, broiled shrimp paste wrapped around sugarcane segments, tapioca coconut pudding served in plastic cup, and rice crepes filled with shiitake mushrooms and roast pork.

With the tray full of goodies on my head, my hands balancing the tray in place, I walk all over the place in Saigon to peddle to passersby. Within just two hours all the foods have been completely sold out.

I plan to spend the rest of the day catching up on my homework.

Hoa shows up at my house as I start doing homework. She says, “I guess you want to go to the ‘World’s Greatest Yard Sale,’ don’t you?”