PHU QUOC: Ha Tan Tai starts every morning the same way – a 7am walk through his Phu Quoc factory, past rows of litsea-wood barrels bound with rattan rope. He breathes in the sharp, saline perfume of anchovies, slowly turning into liquid gold.
His family has been making nuoc mam, or Vietnamese fish sauce, this way for six generations since at least the mid-19th century.
“These days, we’re still making nuoc mam the same way my great-great-grandmother did,” he told The Straits Times.
But the tradition could end with him. Vietnam’s ancient fish sauce industry – the country’s most beloved condiment, with each person consuming more than 3 litres a year – is fighting for survival.
Climate change and overfishing have driven down anchovy supplies, production costs have risen and the number of active traditional producers on Phu Quoc alone has plummeted from around 100 a decade ago to just 20.
Yet, the stakes have never been higher: A 2024 market research paper showed that the global fish sauce market was estimated at US$18.5 billion (S$23.8 billion) in 2023 and will expand to nearly US$29 billion by 2032. This could either rescue the old craft or simply enrich the industrial giants already dominating the market.
“Nuoc mam is all my youth, my life’s passion,” said Mr Nguyen Anh Duc, director and chief technician of 584 Nha Trang, a well-known fish sauce brand based in the central coastal city of Nha Trang.
The 45-year-old began his career in 2005 at the bottom rung – as a worker at the company’s factory, “carrying sacks of salt and probing the fermentation vats” – despite having graduated from university.
“I chose fish sauce because there is nothing more quintessentially Vietnamese than it,” he told ST.
Although fermented fish sauce has been used in different parts of the world, traditional nuoc mam is distinctive for its lengthy fermentation process of at least 10 to 12 months and its purity.
It is easily the most popular condiment in Vietnamese cuisine, used in cooking, seasoning and as a dipping sauce.
Freshly caught fish – anchovies being the most popular variety – are placed in large wooden vats with a generous amount of salt and left to ferment. When fully “ripe”, the liquid is drained into a container, producing first-grade fish sauce.
The choice of fish and the fish-to-salt ratio varies by producer, who often follows a recipe handed down through generations. Other well-guarded details include the type of wood used for the barrels.
“No added protein, no artificial colouring or flavour,” said Mr Duc. “Just fish and salt, and a lot of patience and love.”
Fish sauce ages like fine wine: the longer it is kept, the more flavoursome and nutritious it becomes, with a protein content that can reach 60 per cent, Mr Duc said, compared with the usual 25 per cent to 30 per cent.
“In the West, they have the term ‘sommelier’ for connoisseurs of wine. We are sommeliers of fish sauce,” Duc chuckled.
A dwindling trade?
Tai, 46, was born and bred in Phu Quoc – Vietnam’s largest island, 400km south of Ho Chi Minh City and one of the main fish sauce-producing areas. Depending on the time of year, he and his staff tend to the fermenting barrels or sterilise the glass bottles and put labels on the finished product, all by hand.
The fish sauce produced here is of a single variety, using only the freshest anchovies – tiny, silvery fish that swim in large schools in the Gulf of Thailand – and never frozen fish.
The fermentation barrels are made of litsea wood, soft but resilient, and reinforced with rattan ropes imported from the mainland.
In 2022, Phu Quoc’s traditional fish sauce-making craft was recognised by the Culture Ministry as a national intangible cultural heritage. However, Tai told ST that his business and others on the island are facing increased difficulties, “to the extent that many of us have closed down”.
“One of the biggest challenges is the significant decrease in raw materials, especially anchovies, due to climate change and other factors like overfishing,” he said, adding that production costs have risen.
“The Phu Quoc Fish Sauce Guild has some 45 registered members, but only around 20 remain operational, down from 100 just 10 years ago.”
The story is similar elsewhere. Many small businesses across the country are forced to sell unfinished products to larger companies for rebranding, said Mr Truong Trung Tin, the youngest son of a fish sauce-making family in Phan Thiet, another well-known nuoc mam hub.
His family’s brand Hong Anh was established as early as 1900 but has today almost ceased to exist – reduced to selling small batches as souvenirs, or rebranded by bigger producers.
“People buy other brand names, not knowing that Hong Anh is inside them,” he said.
There are more than 2,200 fish sauce producers across the country producing around 250 million litres a year, according to the Vietnam Fish Sauce Association, but only around 30 per cent are made by traditional methods. The other 70 per cent are so-called “industrial” fish sauces made by large companies, including some international firms.
“Industrial fish sauce is still fish sauce, with an acceptable content of pure nuoc mam but with additional colourings, sweeteners and other flavourings, making it more palatable to the general audience,” said Duc, whose company produces 10 million litres a year using traditional methods.
Small fry and big fish
Despite the hardship facing small producers, the industry’s commercial prospects have rarely looked brighter. Exports jumped from US$28.53 million in 2021 to US$200 million in the first seven months of 2025 alone. Vietnam’s Trade Ministry had in July 2025 set a target of US$5 billion in exports by 2030.
“The Thais managed to enter the world’s market long before us, but we are catching up fast,” said Duc, referring to the other major fish sauce producer in the region.
The lion’s share of that ambition is expected to come from major commercial producers, but traditional makers like Mr Dang Dinh Van, owner of Nuoc Mam Hung Thanh in Phu Quoc, have high hopes.
Van, 69, who said his family began the trade in 1895, makes around 2 million litres of premium fish sauce a year, half of which is exported.
“Hung Thanh’s sole market is Europe,” he said. “We passed all the strictest requirements in order to obtain an export licence to the EU.”
With Vietnamese food growing more popular worldwide, he hopes to increase sales to France, Germany and the Netherlands.
Yet, both Van and Tai are preoccupied by a more personal concern: succession. Among seven siblings, only Van and a younger brother remain interested in the trade. His two sons, he admitted, “cannot be bothered”.
The Hung Thanh fish sauce brand was established in 1895.
Tai, meanwhile, worries that as he is single, there will be no one to inherit his family’s legacy. In his spare time, he joins promotional tours and visits local schools to talk about fish sauce, hoping to pass on his passion to younger generations.
“Nuoc mam is our history, our ancestral legacy that we should never abandon,” he said.
Van is equally resolute but no less uncertain. “My brother may take over when I get really old, but for only another two or three decades,” he said. “After that, I don’t know.”
He was also asked if the situation warrants passing the baton to the women in the family. “Oh, they’ve always been involved,” Mr Van grinned and said. “But they prefer to stay in the background.”
“My elderly mother, who is 95 this year, can still taste just a drop of nuoc mam and tell exactly how much protein it has, with more than 90 per cent accuracy!” - The Straits Times/ANN
