Author: Chen Zhi
Speaking of the noodle culture of Henan people, the people here in Ningxia cannot understand it.
Ningxia's noodles pay attention to working noodles, knife cutting, kneading noodles, ramen noodles, etc. can list more than a dozen, and then with a poured of noodles made in advance, it is quite flavorful. Henan people are more in the soup and water efforts, stew some beef, pigeon meat, chicken, add some red amaranth, rape, potato pieces to boil a pot, noodles are not so particular, or hand-cut, or pressed by machine.
The noodle pressing room on Xishan Road, the business is not good, but every time my grandfather takes me there, there are always three or two old people sitting there waiting in front of me, and the elderly customers who come here to press noodles have always been self-familiar.
And the old lady likes to tease when she sees a child, but she is not afraid of teasing, but she is most afraid of taking the arithmetic test, "Press a pound of noodles for 5 cents, grandma pressed 3 pounds, give the boss 5 yuan, you help grandma calculate how much money should be found?" Born with bad arithmetic, I can say that finding 10 yuan is a fool who knows that it is wrong, and it often makes everyone laugh.
In fact, everyone must be thinking in their hearts that this old man's grandson is not smart. If you are shy and lie on your grandfather's lap, the child's world will always think, I can't see you, you can't see my childish idealism.
The short-lived friendship of a few old people will end with the departure of each of them after pressing the noodles, and the next time they come back will be another wave of people, another wave of short-lived friendship.
Front row, second from left: Grandpa, studying in Northeast China in 1961.
When I was a little older, I mostly went to the dough pressing room alone, and my grandfather would prepare a bag of noodles in advance on weekend afternoons, add an egg, and tell me to make it thinner.
From Xinjian Street, through the rows of houses, through a ditch, at the big poplar tree, until you reach the middle of Xishan Road, you will arrive at the pressing room.
Since I was a child, I have been afraid of society, and I basically don't take the initiative to talk to people, but prefer to observe the pressing surface.
The aunt in the blue robe will first add water to the noodles in the large laundry tub and mix them into noodles, then beat the eggs I brought into them to make the noodles more tenacious, sprinkle them with tonics, pour them into the dough bucket, open the electric switch, and so on more than three times, and the flour will magically become a wide and wide dough.
After a while, my aunt would ask you if you wanted lasagna or thin noodles, and after getting the answer, she would change to different gears, and with the boom, the flour had turned into noodles in unison.
On the way home, it is often the sunniest time in the afternoon in the small town, there are not many cars and people on Xishan Road, one person carries a bag of noodles, squats down to look at the ants, and sometimes looks inside the iron door of the abandoned car repair team, and occasionally looks for stones all over the ground to scare the stray dogs chasing me.
At that time, the pollution of Shitanjing was very serious, but the sky was very blue, sometimes deep blue, the empty streets, and the roar of the boiler of the No. 2 mine not far away, which made me, a seven or eight-year-old child, feel inexplicably afraid.
Although my grandfather lived and worked in Ningxia for most of his life, the noodle-making skills he brought from his hometown in Henan Province have not changed at all. He always holds a large bowl of thin noodles, with the broth cooked in the oil pot, and eats it slowly, praising the noodles as he eats.
Grandpa also likes to ask other people if it is delicious, and after getting a positive answer, he always smiles happily and says: My pigeon meat is freshly slaughtered, you can't eat it outside, and then continue to enjoy eating.
After the second grade, I transferred to the mountain, every winter and summer vacation will go back to Shitanjing to accompany my grandfather, every time I re-walk the Xishan Road to press noodles is the most correct way to open the holiday, and with a bowl of noodles after a bowl of noodles, the bottom of the face in the pocket, is also a sign that the holiday is coming to an end, and goodbye to grandpa has to be another semester.
The older I get, the more impatient I become when I press noodles on vacation, and I always tell my grandfather that the shop selling noodles on the street weighs a few catties, and my grandfather will only sigh and say, "Forget it, it's delicious if it's pressed thinly." ”
In the end, it became that I was watching "Wulin Gaiden" at home, and my grandfather walked to Xishan Road to press noodles by himself. Later, my grandfather's noodles became saltier and saltier, and I didn't know that this semester after semester was not an infinite cycle, fool!
For many years at the bottom of the mountain, it was difficult to find a dough room. I only remember that there is a family in the three residences of Dawukou, and sells steamed buns for one dollar and four, grandpa came to my house and went to him once, the customers inside are also two or three people, and they also speak Henan dialect and are also self-cooked, they are all old people who have moved down the mountain in the past, and grandpa has been sticking to the depths of Nahelan Mountain until his death.
Grandpa took a photo in his hometown.
Many years later, I went to Luoyang, our hometown, with a tour group during the summer vacation of college. In the group meal, I ate exactly the same taste, I was happy at first, and although I am from Ningxia, I have grown from a snack to a big taste.
When I was about to leave, I avoided my mother, aunt and brother, and burst into tears.