Text|Li Hongwei.
My hometown is on the left bank of the Jiaolai River, the land is fertile, and the river is crisscrossed. The ancestors stubbornly repeated the cultivation and harvest, and what was precipitated over the long years was the taste imprinted in the heart.
The most famous thing here is the ingenious flowers. From the memory, Hua Bao is the protagonist of all the four seasons and eight festivals, red and white ceremonies, decorations and hospitality.
At that time, the daily staple food was still cornmeal dumplings, which looked golden and yellow, and when eaten hot, it had a strong corn flavor and was sticky; If it is cold, it will be hard to loosen the mouth, and you must hold it with both hands and eat it, otherwise you will scatter it all over the ground. The better ones will be mixed with a little black noodles, although the color is black and not good-looking, but the taste is much stronger. Only a pot of pure wheat steamed bread will be steamed every few days, just like we are now improving our lives on weekends, so we are always looking forward to this pot of white flour steamed bread. It was not long after entering the 80s, and the farmer's hoards were already full of grain, but the rice in the bowl was still very traditionally calculated.
As soon as Laba passed, the villagers were busy with their hearts, and the people who became rich changed their frugality in the past, rushed to the market, went to the store, and slipped home with large bags and small bags, as if the money was not their own, in order to have a decent year.
When the king of the stove came to heaven, his mother divided the work for the family: sweeping the house, cutting meat, and slaughtering chickens, all of which were done by his father. The mother has to prepare for the longest and most important thing of the year, that is, the steaming New Year's ceremony - the flowers and dumplings used by relatives after the festival.
Two. Ten. 8. Put the face on the hair. Since the twenty-fourth year, my mother has experimentally sent a small pot of noodles every day and steamed a pot of steamed buns to ensure the activity of the old noodles, and it is also a run-in of alkali, noodles and water ratio and the process of making noodles, which not only meets the needs of physical fatigue before the festival and the appetite for the "hungry year"; There is no shortage of attempts at new tricks.
On the twenty-eighth day of the lunar month, several large basins of noodles were reconciled and evenly kneaded, and neatly placed on the kang at the end of the stove, like a warrior waiting to be reviewed or to be sent out.
After a while, my mother neatly tied her hair in a bun, put on an apron, and lifted the quilt on a basin with a clear purpose, just glanced at the white yellowish dough, and then touched her father's eyes, stretched out her thumb and shook it twice. So the whole family had to get busy: the noodles had to be kneaded by the father, the soft bread was hard and the noodles were not ordinarily hard, and the hard work of kneading the noodles could be imagined. When the finished agent was handed over to the mother, the combs, scissors, chopsticks, and crochet hooks that had been washed long ago came in handy, and in an instant, the auspicious and beautiful images of flowers, birds, fish, fruits, vegetables, and animals were pinched out with dough.
I also sensibly sat cross-legged in front of the stove and pulled the seal.
In the hometown, if there is a newly married girl, the mother's family will definitely steam a pair of dragons and phoenixes Chengxiang flowers and dumplings to send, which is enough to have the largest cake now, and the mother-in-law's family is to put this pair of flowers and dumplings in the hall on the post, and accept the evaluation and praise of all the people who come to pay New Year's greetings, visit the door, and go to relatives.
After pinching the head basin noodles, between the noodles, my mother will take out a homework book that I have used, and carefully count it on the reverse side, on the door of grandma's house, on the door of grandma's house, seven aunts and eight aunts, uncles and cousins, according to the distance of family affection, eight and six are classified, how much is needed in total, how many are made of this pot of noodles, how many noodles on the kang will be steamed out, and finally do not forget to count a mouthful of father: think about it again, what relatives have fallen, every year on these relatives, I can't count them, what men.
The father's magnanimous smile was a response. I hurriedly refilled the firewood in the stove. The fire licked the bottom of the pot greedily, and the heat spread like mist.
At this time, my mother would always gently scrape my ruddy face with her face-stained hands, and her eyes were full of love: "Steaming a big one for you, so that I can come back with a flower daughter-in-law." So, my mother's hearty laughter and my smiling face, which was hot with shame, overflowed the small courtyard against the background of the flickering fire.
The first cage of flowers and dumplings was in the last scarlet ** pot in the warm winter sun, and my father carefully took them out of the cage one by one and dried them on the mat prepared first. The flowers that have passed through the water and fire are plump and round, and they are as smooth and warm as jade.
In the following New Year, it will accompany my parents and me, to see black or white but full of joyful smiling faces, holding up family affection and life.
My mother always lovingly picked out the one that didn't look very good and handed it to me. As a result, the delicate and chewy taste and the choking smell instantly filled my entire heart.
In this way, in the state of mind of looking forward to the new year every day, I finished elementary school. When I went to middle school, I had to live on campus and bring food. A week's worth of cold and hard dry food is hot water, and all I miss is the curling smoke on the steamer in the pot house. But you can only eat hot food during the New Year's holiday.
In the flickering time, accompanied by the thoughts of the unique fragrance of the old noodles when they were fermented, I walked into the provincial capital to study at university. The life of the university is much richer, although the cost is higher, but there are all kinds of hot and hot, but it still can't be compared with the New Year's gift in memory. So, I also deliberately looked for a store that sells Jiaodong flowers and dumplings, and there is really a small shop in the old city with a sign of Jiaodong flowers and dumplings, and the business is also prosperous. In fact, it is just a deformed steamed bun, but it has no connotation.
After graduating from university, I went further south, and it took me a long time to get used to the rice-based lifestyle. I can't let go of the steaming hometown flowers.
Finally, as the Spring Festival approached this year, I returned to the left bank of the Jiaolai River again. The mother waiting outside the high-speed rail station is still tough, and the father is still straightforward. Pedestrians on the street, hurrying by, and from time to time there were sporadic firecrackers, telling me: It's coming.
In the familiar courtyard, my parents had already prepared all kinds of New Year's goods, piled up a full table, and had not yet put them in the refrigerator. Two small stainless steel basins are placed next to the heating, and at a glance you can tell that they are preparing to steam flowers and dumplings. The kitchen, which has long been equipped with gas, can no longer find the bellows that burned the fire back then, which makes me a little at a loss.
The mother's technique is still skillful, and a few beautiful white-faced dumplings were immediately placed in the cage drawer. As the heat in the pot rose, my mother began to knead the noodles in another basin, which turned out to be cornmeal, and I opened my mouth wide in surprise: "We are living well now, why do you still eat corn dumplings during the New Year?"
The mother laughed, "The fragrance of this corn dumpling has been planted in my heart since I was a child, and I will panic if I don't eat it for a few days." The old man's laughter was still hearty, just like I remember from my childhood.
Time flies, the years change, and there are always some memories that can never be erased on the heart.
About author:Li Hongwei: male, member of the Chinese Prose Literature Association, member of the Shandong Writing Society, member of the Linyi Writers Association, works have been published in newspapers and periodicals such as "Shandong Literature", and has won dozens of literary awards such as the "Qingwei" Prose Award and the Top Ten Positive Energy Works of Shandong Province in 2023.
One point and five flavors are mixed in the mountains.
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