My grandfather is a very interesting old man. Although he is a farmer, he has never been to the fields in his life. In other words, he has always felt that farming is only the last material guarantee, so don't care so much.
When I was a child, my grandfather worked as a clerk in Zhangjiakou, which was relatively prosperous at that time, and learned the skill of doing business. Later, when he returned to the countryside, he sold everything from tobacco, alcohol, tea and sugar to needles and brains from village to village. As long as it is what villagers need every day, he sells it, does not make a lot of money, and lives better than ordinary farmers. Later, he ended his semi-agricultural and semi-commercial career in the supply and marketing department of the commune and returned to the village as a "full-time" farmer.
I once asked my grandfather why he didn't continue to work in the supply and marketing department, and maybe he could eventually become a paid worker. Grandpa said disdainfully, "It's boring to sell goods in the store all the time."
Grandpa who can't be idle will be interesting all his life. I remember when I was a child, no matter what the younger generation brought, my grandfather would play with it for a while: my cousin bought him a hookah, and he would sew a beautiful leather pipe, hang it on a cigarette rod, and use the ribbon untied from the bottle; Bo Er bought him a bottle of wine. After drinking it, he would clean the empty bottle and pour his loose wine into the bottle with wine. What he wants is a sense of ceremony; Uncle gave him a piece of mutton, and he would cut it into several pieces. This one is fried with salt, that one is cooked with vegetables, and the rest is mutton mushroom soup dipped in oatmeal. ...
These are nothing, after all, it is grandpa who lives well at home. What the old man is most popular with the villagers is that he will show off what rare things he has at the entrance of the village. For example, buying cigarettes will be difficult. On the one hand, everyone is short of money, on the other hand, the supply is tight. Fortunately, I often travel when I work in Bo Er, and I can buy good cigarettes like Hongtashan.
Every time I bring it back to grandpa, he will put two or three packs in his clothes pocket. There must be another pack in the upper pocket of his old Chinese tunic suit, revealing a half-opened cigarette case and wandering to the village to chat with people. People know that old people have good cigarettes when they see grandpa's cigarette case. Everyone said noisily, "Grandpa San, show us what's good in your bag." Grandpa pretended to be casual and said, "I don't like smoking cigarettes with filters because my son bought them."
Needless to say, grandpa will take out cigarettes and spread them out for everyone to smoke. If it is not enough, take out the other two boxes. He doesn't smoke one himself, as if he really doesn't like this filter. Actually, grandpa doesn't want to smoke at home at all. After showing off, the remaining cigarettes will be stuffed into the cupboard by him and will only be taken out when guests come or there are festivals.
After all, cigarettes are not always in short supply. Grandpa often shows off at the entrance of the village all kinds of delicious food that the younger generation filial piety. In the rural areas of that year, the standard for measuring a family was still the type of food and the richness of meat. In my hometown on the Great Wall Dam, beef and mutton have never been eaten, but it is not a rare food. What is rare for everyone is seafood that many people have never seen.
It is said that seafood is actually frozen. At present, it has nothing to do with the word "fresh". Even so, there are few people in the village. My father's meat joint factory, a foreign trade company, often exports rabbit meat to the port, and on the way back, he will buy some seafood from the cold storage. Those seafood products are very common at the seaside, but once they are brought back to us, they will become great things, not to mention rural areas, and even families in county towns are rare.
I remember once, my father went back to his hometown and brought a lot of seafood such as Pipi shrimp. Grandpa took a look and said disdainfully, "What kind of shrimp is this?" Hey, it looks like a dust mite, but it is bigger. "Dust mites are a kind of tide insects called in our dialect. When grandpa spoke, I was full of expectation, and suddenly I felt uncomfortable in my stomach.
Mom smiled and said, "Dad, don't look. Much more shrimp than in our reservoir. Try steaming for a while. " Hearing this, grandpa hurried down the kang to prepare dipping sauce. The old man has a strong taste. No matter what meat he eats, he likes to dip it. Soy sauce, vinegar, salt and onion ginger are poured into a bowl, which is simple and quick.
Steamed Pipi shrimp served on the table, and I lost my appetite. My grandfather was a crustacean with a mouth, and he didn't hate it. He picked up a peel and accidentally stuck it in his hand. My father happily peeled one for grandpa and put it in a bowl he dipped in. Grandpa tasted it and repeatedly said, "It tastes good and you can drink it."
Being able to drink wine is grandpa's highest evaluation of food, which also means that he is going to show off at the entrance of the village. Sure enough, as soon as a shrimp was finished, grandpa was about to go out. Grandma teased him, "can't you sit down for a while?" Going out to show off again? Why not that bottle of wine? " Grandpa, who had walked to the door, thought it was reasonable, so he asked me to bring him a bottle of wine and followed him out. He also specifically told me to take the whole bottle, not the one with loose wine.
So, there was a scene in the village: Grandpa walked in front with a basin covered with thick cage cloth, and I followed, shaking the bottle in my hand.
At the entrance to the village, people knew there was something delicious as soon as they saw my grandfather and me. Too many chefs took over what we had. First, Grandpa showed off a few words: "The child brought Pippi shrimp, which is not bad, big and thick, and can drink ..."
Before grandpa finished, the cage cloth had been untied, and even the younger generation who peeled shrimp quickly began. Grandpa smiled and said, "Be careful when peeling this thing, it will prick your hand." A small pot of shrimp, everyone will try it. Grandpa told them to open the wine and drink it. They squatted aside, slowly picked up his hookah and asked me to go home and get some more.
There are not many shrimps, but most of them are taken out by grandpa to share with you, which makes grandma look unhappy. Parents advised her that this thing was not full and could not be put down, so it was better to share it.
In addition to Pippi shrimp, grandpa also brought spicy fried clams and sea crabs. Give it to the villagers in order to hear people say, "Grandpa, with so much shell meat, this crab is much bigger than that in our reservoir." Grandpa is learning to sell now, explaining that watching the villagers eat and drink is sweeter than entering their own stomachs.
Now, grandpa is dead and the population of the village is decreasing. With the convenient transportation and the developed network, delicious food from all over the world can appear on our table at any time. In people's eyes, there is only a distinction between high and low food, and there is no distinction between being born and not being born.
Whenever I go back to my hometown in my spare time and look at the empty village entrance, I can't help but think of the past and the wrinkled old man. It's a pity that he didn't wait until his grandson had a chance to be filial to him. I think, if one day, grandpa will definitely carry bowls and bottles and say to the villagers, "My grandson brought them back. Give it a try. "
Perhaps, in grandpa's mind, this represents the well-being of future generations, which has nothing to do with wealth or not, and does not need to be related.