Every day at three o'clock in the afternoon, the window facing the street will break into the cries of taro cake vendors at almost the same time, and the sound is sharp and long from far and near, like a lone goose crossing the sky, but it quickly disappears into the distance.
Every time I hear the clamor for taro cakes, I can't help but scream in my heart: "Call a ghost, who will buy your taro cake at hot noon!" "The reason I get bored with the taro vendors is because we live on the top floor, completely exposed to the sun, and walking into the room at noon is like walking into an endless hell, the bed is as hot as a barbecue plate on a night market barbecue stall, and the person lying on it is like an iron plate squid." In such a hot and dry environment, people also become very restless, not to mention drowsy. At this time, the shouting of taro cake vendors is particularly harsh, almost to the point of sound cone.
I don't think anyone eats fried taro cake in hot and dry weather. Cold drinks in the kiosks and popsicles are more attractive to people than fried taro cakes. But obviously, some people are willing to eat, and there is only the cries of hawkers.
Taro cake is a very common food in the countryside of Fuzhou, and it is also a snack that we often eat when we were young. The general method is: first cook the taro and mash it, put it into the rice milk, and then throw it into a wooden steamer basket and steam it in water. When the taro cake is steamed, then cut into small triangle pieces, and fried in the oil pan until the appearance is golden and crispy, it becomes a taro cake sold in the mouth of the vendor.
Although it is a common food in the countryside, it is not something that poor children can eat if they want to eat it. I remember that at that time, probably in the afternoon, there was an old woman in the neighboring village, often carrying a plastic bucket, walking the streets and alleys to sell taro cakes. How much money is, has been forgotten, anyway for us can not afford to eat. "There is no money to buy, it can be exchanged for rice." Once the old woman seemed to see our hungry eyes and said to us. So my brother and I scooped a small jar of rice from our own rice jar with our parents on our backs in exchange for a piece of taro cake. When my parents went out, they often exchanged rice for taro cake, which was really ashamed to think.
The years are like a stream, nearly thirty years have passed, and the face of the old woman who sells taro cake has long flowed into the distance with the river of years, but the memory of her taro cake is still vivid as ever. Breaking open the crispy skin, it has a soft lilac inner texture, covered with filamentous taro fibers, and exudes the unique aroma of taro and rice milk. Taro is a very ordinary and crude food in the countryside, and after encountering rice milk, it immediately becomes extraordinary and has become a rare delicacy in the world.
I haven't eaten such a delicious taro cake for a long time, because the current taro cake is no longer the taro cake of the past, the skin is not crisp, the inside is not soft, stiff as stone, and there is no trace of taro inside, and the taro cake without taro is really unimaginable.
It's been more than a month since I came to this town, and it's hard to believe that there are still people selling taro cakes along the street, although it disturbs my dreams, but it also evokes memories buried in my heart. The memory is like an old song, although the song is gone, the melody can still return to the ear from time to time. And the relatives and friends who listened to an old song at that time were scattered in the clouds, and some of them had long since turned into clouds in the sky.
Taro cake is not the taro cake of the year, people are not the people of the year, things are not, people are not.