That year that month begonia cake 丨 hill

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Autumn has arrived, and I suddenly remember the begonia cake I ate as a child. In fact, we in the Luoxi dialect call begonia cake "chicken cake".

In the past, only clan squires and the like had Yaxing raise begonias in the yard, and "in the autumn twilight, spitting out half a mouthful of blood, two waiters supported, and went to the front of the steps to see the begonias." ”

When I think of the red and shiny begonia cake, my mind comes to my grandfather, who is thin and clean, with a straight waist.

Every time my grandfather went to the Nan Tomb (Tongluo), Xincheng or Wuzhen Market to sell sweet potatoes, potatoes, pumpkins or rabbit feathers, I would eat begonia cake. Begonia cake was bought for me by my grandfather.

My mother said that before I was born, my grandmother knocked on a few baskets of zhitou silk (wild silk wool) and put them on the shelf. As soon as I was born, I saw that it was a female doll, and I quietly hung the new Zhitou back to the bamboo basket on the beam of the room. My mother always told me about these rotten sesame seeds. I said, I am not rare to cover the head of the head, I want to cover the silk quilt.

My grandfather seemed to be compensating me for what this baby girl was, always very kind to me. He lived alone in an old mansion with no windows, only a skylight. When there was sunlight, I saw a lot of dust swirling and dancing in the beam of light that came in.

The first time my grandfather fried the lentils, he would definitely bring me a plate of newly fried tender lentils and say that he would give it to Mingyuan to taste. The first pumpkin of the season, the first ground pu, and the first corn were all taken first and given to Mingyuan to eat.

I still remember that I loved to eat corn, and the corn my grandfather planted always had a lot of diarrhea. "Grandpa, why do you plant so many old corns with diarrhea?" I scoffed. "That's because when you plant corn, if you scratch your scalp, you will have diarrhea and diarrhea." Grandfather laughed.

"Then the next time you plant corn, shave your head ( bald head ) , and your scalp won't itch or scratch your scalp." I'm proud of my clever plan. Grandfather listened to the continuous voice and said, "Good, good, Grandpa must listen to Ming Yuan, shave his head, and do not scratch his scalp." "Grandfather really shaved his head. The bare head was a hairstyle that my grandfather maintained ever since.

However, every year, the corn planted by my grandfather still has a lot of diarrhea. Even those few diarrhea head corn, grandfather always broke it for me to eat. Grandfather hurt me, the little yellow-haired girl who talked and croaked.

Heavy sweet potatoes, pumpkins or potatoes bent the flat burdens on my grandfather's shoulders. Grandfather was tall and thin, old, unable to withstand such a heavy object, and his waist and back were pressed into a curved bow and slumped up. Even in the spring and autumn, when the market comes back, the soil cloth clothes are all traces of sweat.

He stopped and went, for ten miles, picking out the hard-earned ashes in the land and selling them for a limited number of small tickets.

When he was in his eighties, he never reached out for his children's money. Don't forget to buy your granddaughter a sweet begonia cake, a small abacus for school or a brick platform for practicing brush characters.

"Mingyuan, Mingyuan, come and cut (eat) the chicken cake." Grandfather pushed open the door with bamboo nails "creaking", and with a towel washed white on his shoulder that could not see the bottom color, he leaned out and called out to me. The begonia cake is browned on one side, covered with white sugar, and inside is a soft and delicate bean paste filling, and a few stars of transparent lard particles.

One bite, that incense, a mouthful of bean paste and lard. Grandfather smiled at my gobbling and said, "Eat slowly, eat slowly, choke carefully." ”

Later, my grandfather died in the autumn when the begonias were in full bloom. No one buys me begonia cake anymore.

A few years ago, I had come across a stall making begonia cakes, a small cart and a small stove with a gray burst under the French plane tree on the north side of the old cinema.

The stall owner was a middle-aged aunt in her fifties, wearing a clean blue cloth apron. I only remember that the aunt opened the iron plate sharply, the heat was steaming, the fragrance was fragrant, the plum blossom cake sauce was red and shiny, the small lard particles were transparent and shiny, and the red silk and green silk were bright and dripping. I bought one to taste, and the sugar residue was sweet and crispy, fragrant and sticky. However, I always felt that something was missing.

【Source: Jiaxing News】

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