Towards the deep end of our home, several coconut trees’ fronds started browning and falling off, straight from the bud. For the last few weeks, tiny holes have gradually appeared on the coconut trunk and shoot, from a few to numerous, giving off an unpleasant funk of rotten sap. My dad says that these trees are infested with đuông, and we must chop them all down lest we lose the entire grove.
The toppled trees all have nearly vacuous trunks, housing a ghastly sight reminiscent of horror movies: myriads of nests crawling with white worms, each inching in and out of holes like those of aged cheese. According to my dad, the worms might look fat and full, but they won’t be satiated until they destroy the interior of the shoot.
Đuông dừa’s life cycle is intimately linked to coconut. Photo via Tinh Tế.
Đuông dừa (Rhynchophorus ferrugineus) is not a real worm, but the juvenile form of the red palm weevil — an insect originating from tropical Asia that has spread across the globe. It grows into a winged and snouted beetle; males have shorter snouts, and clumps of tiny hair in a yellow or ochre at the top of their snouts.
Đuông dừa is a prolific procreator and is particularly fond of palm trees like coconut, date, and oil palm, making it a formidable enemy of nations where these species are cash crops. Adult females use their snouts to pierce inside palm trunks at existing scars and scratches, laying from hundreds to thousands of eggs. These rice grain-sized eggs eventually hatch into tiny larvae and embark on an unrelenting quest to feast with reckless abandon, wiping out the tree flesh and coconut heart (củ hũ dừa). They drain off nutrients, slow the tree’s growth to a crawl, so the fronds slowly wither and drop off. If they’re left untouched, tree death is inevitable.
The life cycle of coconut worms.
Củ hũ dừa, the spongy and subtly sweet core inside coconut trees, is a beloved snack of both humans and đuông. So larvae that grow up on coconut are considered richer and tastier than those parasitizing other palms. According to folk legends, đuông dừa used to be the choice delicacy that Bến Tre residents sent as a royal offering for Emperor Minh Mạng. Delighted by the rare and quixotic treat, the king ordered his carvers to add the worms onto the Cửu Đỉnh (The Nine Dynastic Urns) in Thế Miếu Shrine in the Imperial City, Huế.
A royal depiction of đuông dừa on bronzeware. Image via the Hue Monuments Conservation Centre.
In the art of đuông dừa cuisine, the most famous application is perhaps fish sauce-marinated đuông dừa. The image is rather… haunting: a handful of live worms wiggle inside a bowl of sweet-and-sour nước mắm. Diners pick whole worms and chew the entire thing in one go as it’s believed this way retains the cleanest worm taste.
A more palatable preparation is grilled đuông dừa, where the lightly crispy exterior makes for an easier, less rich mouthfeel. Live worms are clamped between bamboo sticks and gently roasted on charcoal until a uniform golden hue is achieved. My personal favorite is đuông porridge with coconut milk, a distinctly Mekong combination. Apart from those, there are also pan-fried đuông, đuông salad, or deep-fried đuông, etc.
In nhậu feasts in the Southwest Region, đuông liquor is a rare treat, especially rice wine steeped with đuông. It’s often said that đuông is best enjoyed slowly because chewing slowly allows one to fully take in the richness of the worm. Chew and have a sense of the movement — a thrilling, nerve-wracking, ultimately exhilarating feeling.
Đuông dừa is great fodder for southern cooks to exercise their creativity.
Elsewhere in the world, especially among our Southeast Asian neighbors, đuông dừa is equally famous. Indonesians call them “Sago worms” and they are particularly famous on Bali Island, where locals often deep-fry them or use them in stews. Meanwhile, in Thailand, these worms are reared on an industrial scale to cater to both local and tourism demand. Scientists are looking into turning them into nutrition-rich rations for astronauts, as they contain high concentrations of fat and protein while sustaining good growth rates in air-tight conditions.
Canned coconut worms in Thailand. Photo via Thailand Unique.
Culinary celebration is only wholesome when we can ensure that the balances of nature are respected, and a dish, no matter how popular, can’t be a delicacy if it threatens the livelihood of the people who create it.
Before, đuông dừa was an anomaly that comes every once in a while, so its notoriety was blown out of proportion. But the boost in demand has compelled many to put aside precautions to grow worms for profits. The result is devastating: adult beetles escape into the environment, thrive, and obliterate coconut trees. The entire harvest season is destroyed, something that even the revenue from selling worms can’t compensate for.
Culinary celebration is only wholesome when we can ensure that the balances of nature are respected, and a dish, no matter how popular, can’t be a delicacy if it threatens the livelihood of the people who create it.
Today, several chemicals are available out there, helping farmers ward off đuông. Authorities in Bến Tre also prohibited growing đuông dừa. According to a decree issued in 2022, breeding, distributing, and trading đuông dừa can result in fines of VND3–12 million. Alas, this ban is only in effect in Bến Tre, the locality with the largest scale of commercial coconut cultivation; the rest of Vietnam hasn’t followed suit. Naturally, đuông breeders just move their operations elsewhere and even expand their business thanks to entrepreneurial schemes that encourage đuông rearing due to its lucrative financial potential.
Đuông rearing in the Red River Delta. Image via Sức Khỏe & Đời Sống.
Growing đuông is not too complicated, only calling for simple tools like plastic buckets. They’re happy with a mixture of coconut husk, rice bran, banana and cornmeal as their feed. Within one month, đuông will eat their way through the “kibble” and be ship-shape. After the worms have drained the husks of nutrients, they could be recycled as organic fertilizer for other crops. Therefore, some people believe that rearing đuông can be a beneficial process as it’s more cyclical, can be tightly controlled and is less environmentally taxing than other forms of animal husbandry.
Still, one needs to question whether the financial gains are enough to cover for the inherent risks. Without proper monitoring and smooth collaboration between localities, đuông dừa can easily take a joyride in the environment, which will be devastating not only for coconut groves but also palm groves and wild palms, posing a major threat to the delicate balance of our ecosystem.
The first time I ever had đuông was after my grandfather fell a coconut tree in his yard. He plucked off the worms that crawled out of the trunk and grilled them with the fire from the dried-up coconut fronds. I still remember that fear when I tasted the roast worms, and the surprise delight I felt after.
“It’s really tasty, but it’s also super harmful,” he told me. My friends from outside also ask me often about the unique taste of đuông, but I personally hope that it will eventually cease to exist, so that the farmers from my hometown will never have worry again when they see a lush, green coconut tree one day wither in a hollowed-out fashion, its dead trunk pierces the sky.
