Lin Yutang, in a monograph recalling the history and culture of Beijing at the end of the Qing Dynasty and the beginning of the Ming Dynasty, once wrote, "Whether it is day or night, you will hear the cries of vendors selling luscious and round frozen persimmons, as well as the rock sugar gourd that children like to eat, the small fruits wrapped in sugar, five or six strings in a bunch, dyed red to attract customers...", Mr. Liang Shiqiu also wrote in the essay "Sour Plum Soup and Sugar Gourd": "Drinking sour plum soup in summer and eating sugar gourd in winter is something that everyone can enjoy in Beiping regardless of class." But there is also a difference between fine and coarse things. The sour plum soup and sugar gourd of Rurichang Shintosai are particularly elaborate and very different from those served by other local or street vendors. ”。 He once sighed, "I haven't eaten sugar gourd since leaving Beiping, I really miss it", I have not tasted the rock sugar gourd of Xinyuan Zhai, but our local rock sugar gourd is also sour and sweet enough. It seems that whether it is north, south, west or east, there seems to be an inexplicable preference for rock sugar gourds. For me, the rock sugar gourd was not very rich when I was born, and one of the few childhood snacks was the same, the acid was sweet, the sweetness was hidden in the sour, the sweet and sour crisp, a string of strings, connecting every glittering day of my childhood. When I was a child, the happiest thing was that in the streets and alleys, holding hands and small hands, wearing thick cotton jackets, with heat in my mouth, or wearing floral shirts, looking up at the sky, with a smile on my face, holding a string of rock sugar gourds high, covering my head, proudly eager to let everyone around me see, it felt like I had the whole world. Who wouldn't want to have a childhood with fragrant lips and flowers?
When I was a child, from the countryside to my mother's side, my favorite thing was to take me to the street every New Year's Festival, and when I went to the street, it was to catch the market. Because, as long as I go to the market, I will never go home empty-handed. At that time, there were so many people rushing to the market, one after another, I held my parents' hands, always pushed left and right, and all I saw were densely packed human legs and endless crowds. The best to listen to and the most beautiful nature is the sound of the goods along the way, one after another, endlessly, selling goods there are old, young, male, female, as if selling some treasure knots. The shouting is coarse, the sound is thin, the sound is high, the voice is low, there is the sharp, there is also the hoarseness, intertwined, more thick than the symphony, warm, full of passion, never stop. Of course, at that time, I never knew what a symphony was. So that later I want to recall, only vague impressions, and asked me what kind of goods I was selling, I really can't tell one, two or three, only vaguely remember that there are people carrying cargo, there are wheelbarrows, there are bicycle camels, there are self-made pots ... There are white iron stalls, tofu stalls, tobacco stalls, grocery stalls, bamboo baskets, brooms, rapeseed, mirrors, combs, sewing scissors, cigarettes, matches, loose wine, and scarves, woolen threads, cloth... Most of them are some daily necessities, fruits and vegetables. I didn't plan to wake up and ask the old people to remember their memories, sealed in my mind, it was like this, I tried my best to explore my own memory to portray, even if it was mutilated and blurred, it was a part of my incomparable reality.
Of course, even though I have a superficial impression of what the vendors are peddling, perhaps because they have little to do with me, I must remember my favorites, such as marshmallows, maltose, shortbread, glutinous rice cakes, popcorn, and crystal clear rock sugar gourds.
There were too many people in the market, there were many vendors, more people rushing to the market, perhaps afraid that I would be lost, perhaps I was too small, except that people had thick and thin cotton pants legs, or colorful flower skirts, and wearing all kinds of shoes and heels, and I could not see anything else, and my father lifted me up, lifted me over my head, and rode on his neck. Suddenly, I went from being the shortest, leaping, to the tallest in the crowd, with everything in plain sight, of course, whether it was selling bottles and cans, pots and pans, or coarse cloth cotton clothes, I had no interest in anything, I only cared about good food and fun. In those days, there was nothing fun, but there were plenty of good food, such as rock sugar gourds. The sugar gourd sellers are particularly easy to see in the crowd, they always have a straight thick wooden pole, the upper half of the head is wrapped in plastic bulging sac, inserted like a goddess scattered flowers like bamboo sticks, bamboo sticks are hung with sugar gourds, very beautiful. At first glance, it looks like a string of red lanterns, like a string of vermilion tassels, and like Jia Baoyu dreamed of entering the illusory realm in "Dream of the Red Chamber", countless paintings carved eaves and beaded curtain embroidery. The uncle who sold the ice sugar gourd held a long pole full of ice sugar gourds in one hand, like a white beard and white eyebrows, and the magic power of the boundless Fahai held the Qingtian Zen Staff in one hand, but unfortunately the other hand did not hold the purple gold bowl that subdued the demons; and it was like the Marshal of the Gods who descended from the sky holding a fiery red nail hammer, standing in the vast crowd, very powerful.
The most remarkable thing is the craftsman who makes sugar gourds, if I remember correctly, almost every pointed and blunt bamboo skewer is evenly strung with eight sugar gourds, never more than one without surprise, nor one unintentionally out of town. Wondering how the sugar gourds on each string are uniform in size, round and full, in addition to the color and luster, just like a beauty with a female embryo, all of them are vermilion lips and teeth, eyes cut water, apricot face peach cheeks. Looking closer, the mountain fruit is wrapped in a layer of crystal clear golden syrup, like a viscous pine resin oil dripping from the tree, wrapping the mountain fruit tightly, otherwise, look at the thick syrup that has been covered like a flowing form; and it is like transparent amber from ancient times, weathered for thousands of years. The mountain fruit is as red as the red of the mountain, lined with golden feathers and feathers, as thin as the wings of a cicada, ready to come out, just looking at it, it has also hooked people who are salivating and hungry.
Sitting on his father's shoulder, you can see the lively scene of the market, so you can not be proud. I don't have so much to think about others, from a long distance away from the sea of people, a pair of eyes dripping around looking for targets, not far away there is a middle-aged uncle, standing next to a bicycle, the back of the bicycle is ridden with sugar gourds for sale, only to see the back seat of the bicycle with solid wooden poles full of sugar gourds, each string of sugar gourds dangling in the sun, reflecting thousands of dazzling lights, looking like a radiant scene. I was so excited that I couldn't wait to put all the sugar gourds in my bag, so I stared straight at the string of dangling sugar gourds, and I couldn't stop looking. My father carried me closer to the direction of the sugar gourd, getting closer and closer, getting closer and closer, as if he had tasted the sour sweetness of the sugar gourd, his mouth slammed a mouthful, and he saw that he was about to reach it immediately, but in the end he was still a little shy, and he had to endure not opening his mouth to ask his father. Children's minds are simple, and their preferences are straightforward, just like the "flowing account" type of essay when they go to school, all of which are flat and direct, and my joy, excitement, and disappointment are all written word for word, clearly and plainly on the face. Even the uncle who sold sugar gourds glanced at the little ninety-nine in my stomach that could not be hidden, and suddenly, he pulled up his throat and raised his voice to shout loudly: "Ice - sugar - gourd, ice - sugar - gourd, delicious - ice - sugar - gourd ..." "Little friend, eat a bunch of ice sugar gourd Oh ..." The uncle has completely ignored the other passers-by, just looked at me, and shouted at me vigorously, and I was very familiar with the sound of the sale, high interest, and depression, From his lips that were closed and closed, from the trembling vocal cords of the harmonic waves, from his triumphant and determined expression, I seemed to see that I already had a sugar gourd in my hand, and I had been completely defeated by the sweetness and sourness of the sugar gourd. Later, I got a string of red sugar gourds as I wished, as for whether I shyly asked my father to come, or my father understood my thoughts and took the initiative to buy it for me, I have completely forgotten this detail, and I can't remember it at all.
Sugar gourd to the hand, can not bear to eat, a moment one hand to hold, and then the other hand to hold, elbow tired, heavy and left and right palms relative to the sugar gourd sign, two small hands one after the other rubbing, sugar gourd left and right followed by the rotation, this string of red will follow the turn around, very good-looking, like a girl draped in red tulle twisting waist, dancing. After seeing the addiction, the aroma of sugar gourd has long been dispersed, just think of the sweet and sour taste, Hadazi flows straight down. I gently took a sip on a sugar gourd at the top of the bamboo skewer, and my whole body was excited, the outermost layer was boiled into a pulp of syrup, taking a bite, crunchy, sweet, elongated, thin into silk, a gust of wind blew, the golden sugar shreds were as thin as cicada wings, floating freely in the air, gracefully drawing light arcs, staining on the cheeks, staining the forehead, staining the clothes, staining the father's shoulders, wherever it became golden, like a small yellow flower blooming in the spring in the wilderness, So cute and beautiful. There are also bad luck times, occasionally the slimy syrup sticks to my two front teeth can not be separated, but I am not annoyed, children are born with candy can not resist, next time another uncle to buy sugar gourd is it. From the outside and inside, the syrup wrapped inside is the hawthorn fruit, I gently licked it with my tongue, and then used my tongue to rub a circle around the lips, not enough, simply pout directly to the mouth to kiss the sugar gourd, so that the lips are as red as the sugar gourd? Thinking about it, my heart was beautiful, imagining that I was already like a little aunt who had beautiful red lips after applying lipstick. As a result, each sugar gourd is particularly precious, each sugar gourd can quietly help me draw a red cherry mouth, and each sugar gourd can satisfy the vanity and desire of my little girl to love beauty. And my clumsy and cute trick, which is still buried in my memory, has become an inhuman little secret of my childhood.
Years later, whenever I see vendors riding bicycles and walking the streets selling sugar gourds, I am still moved by it. Today's sugar gourd is very different from before, large and flawless, clean and seedless, the fruit is bigger and redder, the materials, methods and taste are also more, there are begonias, yams, yam beans, dried apricots, grapes, oranges, water chestnuts, walnuts; strawberry flavor, orange flavor, kiwi and dragon fruit flavor; there are sesame seeds, almonds, melon seeds in the syrup... I still love the old hawthorn fruit-flavored rock sugar gourd, which has a long childhood flavor. A taste is like a memory, once rooted in the mind, it is difficult to subvert and erase, and in order to find the taste of childhood, I personally made a rock sugar gourd.
Once, I found wild earthen hawthorn on a hillside, and I picked them home, picked a few, went to the roots to the thiel, and then found a bamboo skewer to string them together. Then the old rock sugar and water, in accordance with the right proportions, placed in the iron pot first high heat, boiling after turning to a small heat, during the chopsticks to stir non-stop, until the water boils dry, the sugar in the pot out of a lot of small foam, the beginning of the white foam, and then a little yellow, slowly you can also smell the sugar aroma, finally, the color gradually turns darker, become caramel color, like the color of sesame oil, then use chopsticks dipped, can be pulled into silk become. Then the skewered red fruit is attached to the hot sugar and gently rotated on the bubbly foam, wrapped in a thin layer of syrup. The hawthorn skewers dipped in viscous sugar water are then placed on the water plate to cool, and a crystal clear rock sugar gourd is made. Unfortunately, the sugar gourd I made is not beautiful, the frosting hanging is uneven, the color is not bright, I think of the icing on the string of sugar gourds sold in the old days, like crystal glass crystal clear, not thick and thin, like for the hawthorn fruit covered with a layer of golden beautiful wedding dress, that is really the real craftsmanship of the craftsman.
Although I tasted the rock sugar gourd again, it was still not the taste of the rock sugar gourd of childhood, a little sad, a little lost, thinking about it for a moment, or relieved. Just like every adult who grows up, or an old man who is dying of old age, his heart will always hide a childhood that will never return, and he will always be frozen in those shimmering childhoods, after the big waves of years, never fade.
As the years have changed and time has changed, the melodious and pleasant "ice-sugar-gourd" shouting has gradually faded away, and these street-to-street livelihoods have long disappeared, and even my childhood memories have faded and blurred. However, a taste is a memory, a symbol, a mark, it once brought me sour and sweet, happy my childhood, and now, it can still sweep away the dust of our hearts in the noisy afternoon, and arouse our feelings for that warm time. The function of the sugar gourd has obviously been exerted to the extreme, and it is beyond its own value and significance. The rock sugar gourd is already an infinite nostalgia for a beautiful romantic old time, and a lingering complex.
