Oil steamed buns, also called twist flowers, hometown people called oil buns. Crispy, crispy, fragrant, eating in the mouth like eating melon seeds. The rice soup is light, mainly millet, lentils, boiled in a sand pot, and charred green onions, with a unique flavor. Casserole, wooden spoon, antique, unique flavor. A large bowl, grab a few handfuls of oil steamed buns to break, pour lentil rice soup, a "minqin famous to eat" - rice soup oil steamed buns become.
The process of making this snack is very simple, but the aftertaste is in the soup, so the rice soup can be added at will, and you can eat enough, which is the boldness of the Minqin people. The first time I ate rice soup oil steamed buns, it was 1.2 yuan a big bowl of era, this year home, in a small town like Minqin, the price of a large bowl also crossed the 5 yuan mark, but garmi soup never asked for money.
When it comes to rice soup oil steamed buns, it is necessary to mention the "king rice soup" that has become famous for generations of ancestors for selling "rice soup oil steamed buns". It is said that the old people who have eaten "rice soup" in Lanzhou, Xining and other places, as long as their sons and daughters come to Minqin, they will repeatedly come back to bring some "Wang Rice Soup" rice soup oil steamed buns.
The rice soup of "Wang Rice Soup" not only has a taste, but also has a character.
Every morning at 6:30 a.m., a few small open-air tables were set up, and "Wang Mi Tang" and his wife and children began to sell rice soup in a potholed alley at the intersection of the square. "Wang Mi Tang" the old two people cooperate very well, "Wang Mi Tang" is the boss, responsible for scooping the soup, and the old partner works for him as a waiter, cleaning up the dishes and chopsticks and checking out. It is said that "Wang Rice Soup" how many steamed buns are fried every day, how many rice soups are boiled, and the stalls can be said to be eight or nine inseparable, if one day the wife accidentally finds the wrong money, it must be scolded!
The oil bun of "Wang Rice Soup" is specially made, which is considered to be "special soup with special food". Once the restaurant of the Minqin Hotel came to "Wang Mi Tang" here to buy for foreign guests to eat, I don't know if there was a quarrel, and finally gambled only to buy rice soup, did not buy Lao Wang's bread. As a result, his own oil steamed buns were soaked in Lao Wang's soup, and they lost their crispness at all, losing the taste of food, as if the whole bowl of snacks had lost their souls, making the guests very unhappy.
The effect of "Wang Mi Tang" is not only to wrap the abdomen, but also to me, more like a reference for growth.
From the beginning of the two hands can not hold a bowl, let the old two help, gradually become "double bowl together", help the admiring friends to serve soup; from the beginning of the called "uncle and aunt", and gradually become the "toot" in the mouth of the child, the "tradition" of touching the head to feed the soup continues to pass on; from drinking soup nervously with the left hand to pinch the first love letter in the pocket of the pants, to unwilling to pay attention to the "bang bang" hypnotic bell in WeChat, think about the married life of "left hand touching right hand" is really good, at least touching the warm hand, Not a hot phone.
In the hometown, children are frightened, and they usually let adults call the soul child with sentences such as "urgent as the law, three souls on the upper body". But put it on me, just calling it doesn't work, you must come to a bowl of "king rice soup" rice soup oil steamed buns, suppressed. I always feel that listening to the sound of my own bite twist flower "crunching", there is a kind of feet on the ground. When the rice soup is poured into the stomach, it is a kind of drunkenness with a salty taste.
A few years ago, I was not at home for two consecutive years of the New Year, and the third year I really couldn't help it, I sent such a Weibo, and the picture with it was "rice soup oil buns": last night's small Chinese New Year's Eve, today's spring, the stronger the taste of the year. Before going to bed, my sister, who had just returned home from vacation, sent a WeChat message saying that she was going to eat various hometown snacks in the morning, and I helplessly asked her to eat more for me. This is the fourth time in recent days that I have said this: "Eat more for me." We always want to "go home", but we can split the two words, home is actually always in the heart, someone has a home. So what's going back? I think it's back to the "taste", the sour sweet spicy, the one that feeds you grow up.
Of course, in that soup, there is not only the former self, but also some people who are at that time.
For example, some old neighbors who used to pay for me by the way. Some of them can no longer eat steamed buns, and some of them will never be able to eat them. Every time I came home over the years, I always heard the news of the white things in which neighborhood my mother had gone. Because my mother always ate rice that was not accustomed to white things, she felt uncomfortable, and when she was hungry, she inevitably complained a few words, "It is better to eat a bowl of rice soup."
Among these "grandfathers" who helped me pay, there was a middle-aged man who was called "old teasing" by people, one of my neighbors, which impressed me deeply. He is medium-sized and slightly fat, with legs looped, speaks the dialect of a local county, and smiles with a "glimmer of heaven" in his eyes. Why do you pay so much attention to him, one is that he is loud, and the other is because he has endless jokes, so the number of natural landscapes such as "a line of heaven" has increased, and it has become a popular attraction in the eyes of diners. There are many kinds of jokes, sometimes political, such as "the head of a former prime minister is stone"; there are life categories, such as "grandfather and father scolded their daughters-in-law to make strips like trouser belts"; there are regional ones, such as "the four pillars of the top ball in the South City Gate Square represent the four major groups", I may love to watch the news today, talk and love poverty, and accept his influence when I say it is not good.
I still remember when I was a child, I always met him at the rice soup stall, sometimes he had a hangover to drink rice soup to sober up, sometimes he and his brothers "grabbed the big head" to bet on the guests, no matter what, his big voice and dialect paragraphs arrived, the scene was high. Of course, the most high thing about me is that every time I run into him, I will pay for me and my friends. In fact, listening to "Wang Mi Tang", he is only a small employee of a company next to him, and his salary is less than one-fifth of that of "Wang Mi Tang", but he likes children. Now that I think about it, I used to call him a "big stupid hat" with my friends, and I felt a little sorry for him, but I believe he didn't count.
Only once did Grandpa not pay for me and my friends. That time he was eating, suddenly scolded on the phone, several "food friends" who knew him at the scene were also surprised, none of us knew what was happening. Later, I never saw The Funny Grandpa again, and a tall, thin young driver would often park his car on the side of the road to buy two rice soup oil buns to take away. The last time I saw the driver, I plucked up the courage to ask a "tease grandpa." While eating, the driver told me that the grandfather had risen, but the child had a kind of tumor that was pestering, and it was always not good, and it was very urgent. I suddenly wanted to return all the money that my grandfather had invited me to eat, but later, even the driver never had the opportunity to see him again.
This year's New Year, I deliberately got up early, chose my high school breakfast time to go to the stall of "Wang Mi Tang", and wanted to experience the "happy night sleep" of the college entrance examination again. In the early morning when the moonlight is thrown, the hand of "Wang Rice Soup" scoops rice soup, one third and one-third spoon, fast and accurate. Strangely, I can still hear the jokes of the "old teaser" at the food stall, but it is lonely but cheerful.
Look at the piles of buns of the old Wang family, each one, each interlaced between them, as if the shuttle of longitude and latitude lines into memories that will never disappear. Those lines that come and go look intricate, and only diners who can eat know that every bite is actually soft and hard, and the order is orderly.
