Text | Wen Sizhe
Pancakes are a specialty of Shandong, but pancakes are not made everywhere in Shandong. An old comrade once delineated the general range of Shandong pancake production areas: east of the Jinpu Line, south of the Jiaoji Line, north of the Longhai Line, and west of the Jiaolai River. It should be said that this range is roughly accurate.
Baidu said that the legend is that pancakes were invented by Zhuge Liang. It is said that when Mr. Kong Ming first assisted Liu Bei, he was a major general and was often pursued and killed by Cao Bing. Once, when besieged between the Yi River and the Shu River, the pot stove was lost, and the soldiers were hungry and hungry. What to do? Mr. Kong Ming had a method in mind, asking the brother-in-law to make water and cornmeal into a pulp, and then put the gong on the fire, and use a wooden stick to flatten the batter to fry the fragrant pancakes, and the morale of the soldiers after eating them was greatly boosted, and they relaxed out of the siege. The locals followed this practice, but because the gong was easy to crack, it was made into pancakes. Since then, pancakes have been passed down in Shandong to this day. The story is somewhat credible, but it was a bit unclear that corn had not yet been introduced to China from the Americas. There is also a legend that meng jiang women cry on the Great Wall, and the food she brings is pancakes. It is estimated that it is impossible to examine it.
Let's make it clear again. In 1967, the "family separation contract" was found in Dongyanglou Village, Zhuang Town, Tai'an Province, which contained the record of "a plate of tweezers and 23 catties of pancakes". In Tai'an, there is also a saying that when the Yellow Turban Army was stationed at the end of the Tang Dynasty, the local people sent pancakes to each other. In this way, it can be confirmed that the practice of modern pancakes already existed during the Wanli years at the latest. Coincidentally, I was born in 1967.
Pu Songling of the Qing Dynasty once made "Pancake Endowment": 溲 contains rice beans, grinds like gluten dumplings, picks up the two discrepancies, the shape of the foot, the spoon of the tile basin, through the fire and the left, such as the ant line on the grinding, the yellow and white sudden change, the period of beard, "Stroke Law Ge Da", take this hot bell, turn the hand over the hand, make ten hundred in Russia, round to look at the moon, as big as copper, thin as the paper of the Creek, color like the plume of the Yellow Crane, the customization of this pancake is also.
In the past, I often ate pancakes, but I really hadn't heard of the above, and I didn't expect that pancakes had so much knowledge. The mother must not know these contents, in her eyes, pancakes are really ordinary things that can no longer be ordinary, things that are made to fill the stomachs of a family of five.
My mother is capable, I have the impression that my father can earn 10 work points a day, and the mother generally has 8, which is the highest among the wives in the village. The mother often said why women work a lot and work less than men. I vividly remember one fall when I followed my mother uphill (i.e., out to work). Generally to the west of the village, that is a rising hill, the local called deer running mountain, want to have deer in ancient times? I don't know), I guess I was on vacation at that time, even if I followed the adults to the field to spread joy, and sometimes helped the adults to do some work. What kind of work do they do, fattening. The basic practice is to get a pile of soil, put water on it, and then throw some crop trees, or purple locust (a kind of bushy locust tree planted next to the rural dirt road at that time, the leaves are purple), and people then step on these things in it, and mix them with the mud as much as possible, which is more conducive to fermentation. Later, when I watched some foreign movies, men and women jumping into the pool and stepping on wine, I remembered how my mother and they were fat. At that time, my mother was in her 30s and less than 40 years old. When everyone was slowly working, the mother couldn't stand it. She shouted loudly, you guys pull over and look at me. I saw her take off her pants, only a large pants, and jump into the mud from a slightly higher place, stepping on it hard. The mother is flying up and jumping, so that jumping down can be used to be strong and deep. The mother was less than 160 years tall, and the look of indifference when she flew up, the hair that flew up, the streamline that flew out, and the image of falling on the compost pile and working hard, have always been deeply imprinted in my mind. Since childhood, whether it is the neighbors, or the relatives in the family, and the adults who know our family and know my mother, they all tell us to hurt your mother well, your mother is too capable. My father was, in a sense, an orphan, and could say that the family was surrounded by walls, poor and poor. It is not easy to live such a home like a home, pull me and my two sisters up, and have a good reputation. It's hard to imagine without a capable mother.
The job of spreading pancakes is usually done at night. At that time, I worked in the field for a day, leaving early and returning late, and only in the evening did I have time. Of course, there are also some pancake preparations during the day.
The basic procedure is this: before parents go uphill to work, they will put corn ballast into a large tile basin, pour water on it, and put it on the stone mill. Then tell us that in the afternoon, the paste (four sounds, i.e. batter) is ready, and the pancakes are spread out after dark.
The biggest worry for our children is pushing the grinder. There are two grinding discs up and down, the upper grinding disc is moving, and the lower grinding disc is dead. On the side of the upper grinding disc is symmetrically a pair of handles, wooden, embedded in the grinding disc. The rope is tied to it, buckle it, and then find a wooden stick that is not thick or thin (we call it a small stick, when the two children in the countryside carried a soil basket, a bucket, etc., often used, generally found not thick and not thin branches to do) set on the rope, propped on the grinding plate, the lever principle pushed the grinding disk around the grinding up. As he turned, spoon after spoonful of corn ballast into the millhole, little by little, the paste came out and flowed to the mill (a large stone under the two millstones, with a wide groove, low on the inside and high on the outer edge), and in the middle of the south side of our mill, there was a mouth, and the paste flowed down here to the basin below.
Pushing and grinding this work, can not be anxious to slow down, have to walk step by step in harmony, can not run and can not jump, for children is absolutely grinding. If it is winter, there are some ice ballasts, and it is easy to pull the basin to the ground when the stick slips. I did this and was beaten up by my father. A pot of grain, at that time, how expensive, all at once blind so much, can the adults not go to the fire, not to mention this batch, there is no paste, how to make pancakes, it is likely to mean that the evening meal will not fall.
More uncomfortable thing, between the upper and lower grinding discs is a hard grinding, stone grinding stones, that sound, not harsh but harsh, and continuous circle pushing, it is easy to dizzy, anyway, the heart is not comfortable. You may know why the donkey is blindfolded, I think it may be to prevent it from getting dizzy.
Here's a joke. My father went to school for a year or two, and there was an old gentleman who taught. One morning, He asked a student to read a text. The student won't, look at the teacher. The teacher is anxious, saying read, the student says to read, the teacher says, you are still grinding and grinding. The students said, you still grind and grind. The teacher said, I see that you are indifferent, and the student says that you are indifferent. The whole class laughed and laughed.
My mother, who came back from the downhill slope, simply washed it and was about to start spreading pancakes. It is usually in the dining room (kitchen) when it is cold, and it is in the patio when it is not cold. At that time, pancakes were made with firewood, smoke and fire, and if they were stalled in the dining room, they would bury people in the smoke and choke their eyes. The patio was open and open, and the smoke was dispersed quickly. So, I think, the mother may prefer to spread pancakes on the patio.
First of all, the iron hammer (for spreading pancakes, about 60 cm square, round, like a gong) should be supported, and the three chain legs should be cushioned with two bricks each, so that there is room for firewood below. Prepare firewood, pots and spoons, clusters or scrapers, small shovels, and oil mats. (Tufts, bamboo sounds, wooden, cylindrical, rolled dumplings, rolled cakes, pancakes are used, and sometimes used as a tool for adult children.) The scraper, also wooden, was inserted into a small stick on a palm-sized rectangular wooden board that a little girl put and spread out the paste. Small shovels, made of iron, thin, for pancakes. Oil mats, sewn together several pieces of cloth, or round or square, with a little oil on it, are used to prevent staining. The mother sat on a vulture, on the left was a lid mat for pancakes, in front of the right was a basin with a paste, and there was a spoon in the basin, and on the right back √ was a large pile of firewood.
When the fire is up and the tweezers are hot, rub them with oil and start spreading the pancakes. First put a spoonful of paste, then quickly use a cluster or scraper to spread the paste in a clockwise circle, the paste quickly dries, use a small spatula to open a hole on the edge of the pancake, remove it with your hand, put it on the lid pad, and a pancake is made.
The mother made pancakes, and we did the work of laying hands, or carrying a pile of firewood, or handing the mother a glass of water, or giving her a towel. The mother, on the other hand, is like a performer for a while, the two hands are deftly coordinated, and the next moment is like a martial artist, putting down the spoon, picking up the tuft scraper, putting down the small shovel to unveil the pancakes, orderly, orderly, eighteen kinds of blades, come at will, one action after another, one in one go, a moment the paste becomes a pancake, and a stack becomes a hill.
I remember one early summer night, the sky was full of stars, and I could see a lot of stars at that time. The fire reflected the red face of the mother, the mother only wore a large pants, the upper body was a small vest, sweat kept flowing, soaking the clothes on the body, the mother kept wiping sweat. Suddenly, the mother shouted, Wenzi come to see, you see what is coming. I ran over to see, Daxi, ah, it turned out to be a crab, not small. Whether it was attracted by the light of the fire or by the fragrance, I don't know, but it actually came with a big swing. Our family lives in the northwest corner of the village, which is supposed to be a long distance from the river in the east and more than 100 meters from the white sand ditch in the west. It is too difficult to climb out of the well at home. Honestly, I haven't found a reason to convince me so far. I can only say that the environment at that time was too good, the river crabs can come to the door, you say how harmonious it is, harmonious home, harmonious society, harmonious nature. By the way, it is said that the light can attract crabs, whether it is by the river or the sea. But this time is the only one I've had so far.
Interesting things are occasional after all. I also wondered if my mother would rather not do it, for example, when there are more white noodles in the family, she would rather make more steamed buns than make pancakes again. After all, steamed buns are more delicious, nutritious, and easier to make. In this case, pancakes become a concoction rather than a necessity.
Of course, whether it is a mixture or a full belly, pancakes have two good characteristics, one is resistant to release, and the other is good looks. The so-called, durable, that is, can be stored for a long time, placed in a large vat in the shade, can be put for several days. If you are worried about moldy hair, you can also hang it on the trembling strip (a long line drawn by wire in the countryside, dry clothes, dry quilts, and sometimes used to dry pancakes, dried sweet potatoes or vegetable leaves) in the patio, and generally it will not be broken. When you eat it, take it out and steam it on the pot to eat it, without affecting the taste and basic function.
The so-called good looks mean that pancakes have such a function, that is, to roll up and wrap up nutrition and deliciousness. A pancake spread, which can be enlarged onion and shallots, put peppers and peppers, put leeks and coriander, put pickles and tofu, you can also put a variety of stir-fried dishes, you can even put fish, put meat, put fritters, put dumplings, put eggs, put salt, put oil residue, etc., Zhoucun also has a famous food, called spiced lamb, also eaten with pancakes. In short, as long as it can be put down and wrapped up, anything can be done. Tell me how inclusive and belly-filling this pancake is.
I often introduce Shandong pancakes to guests from out of town, but I will definitely not forget to talk about the pancakes made by my mother. My mother's dish pancakes are delicious, the best thing to eat is leek egg filling, and then put some shrimp skin and fungus in it, it is even better. The dish pancakes made by the mother are one heaven and one underground than the vegetable pancakes on the market today, and the vegetable pancakes made by the mother are yellow and clear, fragrant and hot.
In fact, having said all this, my most memorable thing is the pancake soup that my mother gave me to make (the old family's name is wow). When I was in elementary school, I usually went to school for evening self-study and didn't come home until around 9 p.m. At that time, the village was already a darkness of tranquility, from the street to our family's alley, far away to see the lights from our house in the depths of the alley, I knew that my mother had not yet slept, she was still waiting for me. Opening the door, our puppy first came to make love to me, and then through the yard, I opened the door, and all of a sudden I could see the mother who was doing needlework on the edge of the kang, she was wearing a cotton jacket, one foot on the stove, and was flying needles. Coming back? , hungry, take a break, I'll get you some pancake soup to eat. The mother said as she got up, and after a while, she took a large bowl and came in, and inside the bowl was a pancake torn into pieces, and the pancakes were smeared with a large spoonful of lard, and a few drops of sesame oil and soy sauce were dripped. The mother put the big bowl on the edge of the stove, lifted the boiling kettle from the fire in zhengwang, directly flushed the water onto the big oil, flushed onto the pancakes, and rushed into the big bowl, and immediately there was the aroma of big oil, sesame oil, soy sauce, and the aroma of the pancakes, straight into the nostrils, straight into my heart, steaming in the small room. The mother said, eat it quickly, don't get cold. Then, my mother picked up the needle and thread again, and watched me finish eating while doing the needlework.
For many years, the mother who returned from school under the lights in the deep alley in the winter night, the mother who was doing needlework by the fire of Wangwang, the mother who lifted the pot to make pancake soup for her children, and the bowl full of steaming, fragrant pancake soup, have been staying in the depths of my soul. It is the harbor of the soul, that is the warm home, that is the kind love that provides me with inexhaustible nourishment.
Nowadays, pancakes in our hometown are no longer eaten, and mothers generally do not go out to the mountains to make pancakes. Most of the pancakes I eat are sent by neighbors, and in fact, the neighbors basically don't make pancakes. In some places pancakes have become a rich industry, specialized in production. This can also be regarded as the development and progress of history.
One day, if it continues like this, I think pancakes will become intangible cultural heritage. At that time, I thought that what needed to be protected was not only the practice of pancakes, but also the love, the warmth, the sincerity, the reality that pancakes carried.
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