Chen Xiru
I grew up snacking on my mother's meals, but the real chef in my family was not my mother, who cooked three meals a day, but my father.
Every New Year's holiday, or there are distinguished guests, it is the father who cooks the spoon, and the mother takes a back seat, and is responsible for washing the dishes and serving the dishes on the fire. My father was proficient in frying, quick in his hands and feet, and skillful, and it didn't take long for a table of dishes to be ready. The tableware at home is very exquisite, I don't know where my father came from to exchange and collect, cups and dishes, all available, discs have long, round, square, triangle several, although not a set, are very good-looking, father according to the shape and color of the dish to decide what utensils to use, placed together, complement each other, have a look, quite tasteful.
My father often made one or twenty kinds of lotus cauliflower, pot-wrapped meat, dry fried tenderloin, boiled fat sausage, popped three kinds (pork liver and large intestine loinflower), fish with sauce, crispy chicken, crispy white meat, boiled meat segments, and so on. I don't know how many dishes my father can cook in total, or what genre I belong to, but it's more than enough to serve guests at home. Sometimes, while cooking, he told my mother: Crispy white meat, be sure to use egg white paste, when it comes out of the pan, it is snow-white, crispy and delicious. When making pot wrapped meat, use egg yolk paste, golden and bright when it comes out of the pan, otherwise the color is not right and the taste is poor. In my father's menu, I like lotus cauliflower the most. First chop the lean meat into minced pieces, add seasonings and stir well, then cut the cabbage gang into lotus petals, wrap the minced meat and place it on a plate, the whole plate is like a big lotus flower in bloom, and then steamed in a pot. This dish, delicious and beautiful, but I only ate it at home and never saw it again, I don't know if it was my father's invention?
My sister asked my father, where did you learn cooking? Dad said that when he was an apprentice in the fruit shop, there was a restaurant next to it, the chef was from Shandong, he was good at making Lu cuisine, help him fight, see more, and it would be. There are also some dishes that I have eaten as guests at people's houses and come back to figure them out. Learn art from a teacher, people's know-how may not necessarily teach you, you have to see for yourself, try it yourself, understand it yourself, the old society is called stealing art. For example, whether it is cooked or not, I can't understand it, it all depends on experience, by feeling, and you can know it by looking at the color of the dish. Get up early, owe fire, raw; It's late to start the pot, it's cooked vigorously, the taste is not good, and it can't be done; In short, it is necessary to master the heat, the hands are quick, and the eyes are just right, in order to have a good color and fragrance.
At that time, the children were not on the table, but the child's mouth was anxious, scratching his heart and scratching his liver was not good-looking, so the mother thought of a workaround, put a small table in the warehouse or the back room, and set aside some of the various dishes, telling us to eat first without losing etiquette. It was probably after middle school that I was qualified to sit in the last seat. As the saying goes, there is no table without alcohol, but the shortcoming of my family is precisely that no one drinks with alcohol. Dad dripped wine without sticking, drank a sip of the whole body red, alcohol poisoning, quite scary, so there are good drinkers in the guests, so I had to ask my cousin who can drink to accompany, if he is not at home, I have to grievance the guest to drink by himself. My mother once wanted me to practice wine to accompany customers, because in the eyes of alcoholics, wine is not drunk, and how good food is tasteless. But my ancestors have not been stained with alcohol for several generations, their genes are strong, and they can't practice, and I still can't drink. But I like to collect bottles, and when I like it, I buy a bottle, ask someone to drink the wine, and give me the bottle.
Father not only cooks, but also pastries, and at a professional level. He studied with a teacher in his youth and received rigorous professional training. There are hanging stoves, large and small panels, large and small walking mallets, large, medium and small jujube rolling pins, various snack molds and cutting knives, which can make stove fruits, large biscuits, trough cakes, shaqima, bald head cakes and so on. My father originally wanted to be a fruit maker, relying on labor (salary) to support the family, and also bought various tools, but then the grocery store that sold pastries was yellow, and the craftsmanship did not last a few days, but it was cheaper for us, as long as the family had oil, sugar, honey, white noodles and other materials, we begged my father to make us some chewing and gluttony.
My father took pictures and opened a photo studio with others. One year, I went to Yingkou to buy goods (buy photographic equipment) and actually brought back a bundle of sugar cane. We didn't have sugar cane there, but we heard that it was like an iron rod, heavy and sweet, and could squeeze sugar, but no one had ever seen it, let alone eaten it. Perhaps our discussion was overheard by my father, and in order to open our eyes and taste the taste of sugar cane, he carried the sugar cane all the way up and off the train and bus, and I don't know how much effort and tongue it took to carry it home. Wherever he went, the father always thought of his children, and every time he returned from a business trip, he always brought with him something that we did not have there, such as duck pears, bananas, hawthorn, pomegranates, walnuts, chestnuts, etc., two large baskets, full, tied with twine in the middle, draped over the shoulders, a basket on the chest and a basket on the back, very heavy. We felt sorry for him and didn't let him take it, but he didn't go to his heart at all, and he would still be happy next time.
My father was also a good farmer. My family's small vegetable garden, under my father's careful dig, melons and fruits are fragrant, vegetables are luxuriant, flowers and plants are fragrant, it is not only a vegetable garden, an orchard, but also a garden, which can be called a small town.
The piece of land in front of the window was black and oily, the fattest, but my father did not grow vegetables, only flowers. Sitting in the house, through the window, you can see lilies, red strings, cosmos, dahlias, zinnias, marigolds, mermaids, etc., and sometimes attract bees and butterflies. Potted oak trees, oleanders, fuso, hanging golden bells and other woody flowers are placed under the eaves. I remember that there was a pot of mountain shadows, raised for decades, growing to more than two meters tall, in the shape of Taihu Lake stone, which was very good-looking, but because it was too big and heavy, it was impossible to move out of the house to bask in the sun, and finally rotted and died, which is a pity. Many of the flowers were brought back by my father from other places, but not by other people's homes, so passers-by often stopped to watch. When it is cold, potted flowers and frost-afraid roots are moved to the house, and the windowsills and cabinets are full of flower pots. In the cold winter moon, it is icy and snowy outside, dripping water into ice, but my home is green and warm as spring.
In the center of the garden, my father dug a small well, installed a reel, and built a water channel to water the vegetables. Around the well, vegetables and fruits are planted. I came home from school at noon, went to the vegetable garden, picked tomatoes, melons, cucumbers, picked mushrooms, folded sweet stalks, ate half full, and then went home to eat. When picking tomatoes, pay attention to the white clothes do not touch the tomato stalks, otherwise leave a piece of green, how to wash can not be washed off. The vegetable garden is surrounded by fruit trees, begonias, apricots, plums, pears, etc., and a grape...
My father liked this small vegetable garden, and when he got up in the morning, he first went around the garden, played with this, looked at that, and then washed his face and ate and went to work. Sometimes when he comes back from a night shift, he also has to take a torch and look at his flowers and vegetables. Mom also went to the vegetable garden in the morning, took a small basket, plucked a few spring onions, picked a few cucumbers, or sprinkled some cabbage, cut spinach, and then went into the house to cook. Vegetables at home, all year round, except for winter, basically do not need to buy, there are in the vegetable garden, and they are freshly picked and made. At that time, I didn't know that these vegetables without pesticides and fertilizers were pure green food. It's a pity that now I can no longer eat vegetables that are so fresh, timely and pure.
The father was skilful, did what he was like, and worked hard. When taking photos, he ordered photography magazines and pictorial magazines and read books about photography. When he planted gardens and raised flowers, he bought books on agriculture. The birdcage he made of bamboo looks better and more practical than what is sold in the market. His mushy kite, colorful and flying, is praised by everyone. He used a cow made of mud and two gummy horns from the leg of a rooster as horns, which were vivid and lifelike. The paper lanterns he made were delicate, safe, light and good-looking. He can make tofu, make soy sauce, and write well and make good calculations, and I really can't tell how much skill he has. He often said that art does not press the body, and if you have one more skill, you will have one more way to live.
Not only that, my father also continued to invent and create, such as before the frost, the sweet stalk was the thickest and sweetest, could not be eaten, thrown in the ground, after drying up, it turned into firewood, blind, but the father had a way, he cut the sweet stalk, bundled it into bundles, and put it in the cellar, which could be eaten for almost half of the winter. For example, when we were young, we rarely ate fish at home, afraid that the fish bones would get stuck, but we had to eat it during the New Year and the festival, in order to get lucky, every year there was more than enough, we bought big fish or fish with few spines, but we were still worried, and the adults had to pick the thorns clean before asking the children to move the chopsticks. Later, my father heard that it was not dangerous to make shortfish, and the spines were soft and could be eaten by children. He hadn't seen it, he hadn't eaten it, but he heard about it and experimented with it himself. There was no pressure cooker at that time, which was time-consuming, but in the end, it finally succeeded. He was happy and said that this time, the children could also eat fish. There is also a kind of pickle, called oil pepper, I don't know if my father learned it from others, or I figured it out myself, that is, the oil and soy sauce plus seasoning boiled and cooled, and then put the cut green pepper celery, etc. into it, marinated for a few days and eaten, crisp and fragrant, but I have only eaten it at home, I don't know if there are any elsewhere...
The year my grandfather died, my father took my brother and I back to visit our hometown. When I was ten years old, I was lying on the ground kowtowing to my grandfather, and when I looked up, this white-haired old man in a white placket was really good-looking. To be honest, Grandpa is by far the most beautiful old man I've ever met. That's when I realized that my father looked like my grandfather and was also very good-looking. I remember that there was a big photo on the wall of my house that was more than a foot long, and when I was a child, I didn't know who it was, and I asked my sister. She smiled and said, you are so stupid, it was a picture of our father when he was young. He took photos when he went to Yingkou to do goods, and people enlarged the photos and put them in the window of the photo studio as an advertisement. Unfortunately, no one in our life is as beautiful as my parents and aunts, I don't know if it is racial degradation, or is it because my mother is not beautiful enough? But I hadn't seen photos of my mother when she was younger, and I didn't dare to ask, so I could only be suspicious. My father suffered a cerebral hemorrhage in his later years and was paralyzed in bed, I went to the hospital to accompany him, and during small talk, I asked him, was my mother good looking when she was young? He said, good-looking, not good-looking! The old girl of the Dong family medicine shop knows it in ten miles and eight villages! At that time, he was no longer very clear, but he was still excited to mention these past events, and he was very satisfied.
Looking back, my best health was eighteen years of living with my parents in my hometown. I don't remember what illness I had, only once because I was naughty to go up a tree, I accidentally fell off and broke my leg into a bone, and I lay on the kang for more than three months. Other than that, it seems that I have not taken injections or medicines. Occasionally I feel that my body is tight, so I will carry my schoolbag for a while, and it is good that I am sweaty, and I don't need to take medicine. Not only me, but my brothers and sisters are in good health and rarely get sick. The reason is that mothers always keep their children in mind, eating, wearing, living and traveling should be in season, and whoever has a headache and brain fever has to get up several times at night to see it. Second, family harmony. I've never seen my parents fight awkwardly. Between siblings, they have never blushed. Disciplining us, the mother is in full control, and the father rarely interjects. He has an easy-going temper, never gets angry, and has a good relationship with his colleagues and neighbors. He famously said that to make people tolerant, to suffer losses is to take advantage.
My mother and three older sisters used me to choking enough, opening my mouth for food, stretching my hands for clothes, and nothing, before I went to college, I didn't wash clothes, and my ability to take care of myself was extremely poor. Later, I went to Dalian to study, left my parents and left home, dormitory, canteen, laundry and unpacking, everything was on their own, it was difficult to adapt for a while, first gastrointestinal bad, then chronic gastroenteritis, loss of appetite, indigestion, thin yellow muscles, weak body, irritable, tossed for several years, before slowly slowing down.
My mother often said that homely food is the most supportive. At first, I didn't understand it very well, but after the torment of illness, I gradually understood what my mother meant: if we ordinary people's families want to have a good body, we don't rely on big fish and meat, mountains and seafood, but on homely meals, so no matter when and where, we must eat well. My mother won't say that people take food as the sky, but she often says that if you can eat two big steamed buns per meal, will you still get sick?
After I came to Beijing to work, my father wrote to me saying that your mother's cooking skills have also improved a lot in recent years, and her three old things, braised pork, iron pot stewed fish, mushroom stewed large chicken, are very good, very popular. In fact, her mother also has many unique skills, she integrates family and friendship into her meals, the taste is different, but it is obscured by her father's cooking skills, and no one notices. Let's talk about rice (boiled first and then steamed), she boiled beans with leftover rice soup at the bottom of the pot, put a curtain in the pot, steamed the freshly fished eight-cooked rice on it, plus eggplant, potatoes, egg hot sauce, and a few more cakes on the side of the pot, the whole family's meals, a pot is complete, and the nutrition is not lost at all. Especially the mother's new grain made of large bud rice rice porridge, that is, the whole corn is broken in half, plus large kidney beans, simmered for four hours on slow fire, and then accompanied by a plate of small pickles, that soft and fragrant, incomparable, can be called the best of homely meals, the taste of the world.
Now it has been more than thirty years since my parents died, and I am still old, but I still miss them, my family's old house, my family's small vegetable garden, the smell of my home, sometimes I think of it with distress and tears...
2022—7—11
Source: Wen Wei Po