Wang Zengqi wrote in the article fried rice and coke crumbs:? Fried rice is everywhere. But many places have made fried rice candy. This is very cheap food. The child bought it and chewed it. ? What warm words.
When I was a child, in the twelfth lunar month, my mother would save the broken rice under the rice mill screen, put it in a jar and mix it with shredded sugar. The sunshine in winter was bleak, so we carried rice bags and ran for several miles to the town grain management office to change sugar silk. It's always exhausting all the way. I don't know where I am when I think of the delicious fried rice candy.
In the deep winter, every family will fry a few balls of fried rice and cook fried rice candy and peanut candy. Yelling at the fried rice master? Bang, then what? Boom, a smoke rose, and we let go of our little hands tightly covering our ears, jumped, plunged into the white fog, and desperately sucked the hot and delicious fried rice, and a kind of unspeakable comfort and coziness flowed throughout our body. The sweetness in the air is accompanied by the cheers of the children, and fried rice is stuffed into the mouth. My mouth is full of fragrance, sweetness, crispness and crispness, and there is always an indescribable sense of happiness rippling in my heart.
Sugar is boiled mostly on cold winter nights. The moonlight in the yard is clear as a stream and picturesque. Straw houses and Broussonetia papyrifera are leisurely embedded in the canvas. The green frost adds a softness and looks lonely and lonely. Melia azedarach in the corner of the courtyard is like a woman in Song poetry, with a little desolation in slim and graceful. Put a large iron pot on the black tile stove, pour some cold water, then pour in the shredded sugar and mix well. When the fire is on, the cotton stalks will be peeled off when it burns, and the room is filled with sweet smoke. Grandpa kept stirring in the pot with a copper shovel, adding some Jiang Mo, orange peel and red dates, and adding half a shovel of lard at the right time. Finally, pour the fried rice into the pot and stir well. At this time, the fried rice is particularly crystal clear, flashing the luster of jade.
Sang Mu put a chopping board on the table, smeared it with vegetable oil, fixed it with a wooden frame around it, put fried rice and sugar in it, and rolled it back and forth with wooden boards. The sharpened kitchen knife was also smeared with vegetable oil. When the sugar is half cold and not hot, my grandfather takes out the mold and cuts it into small rectangles or squares with a knife. He began to cut the knife and soon fell down.
Boiled and cut fried rice candy tastes crisp and refreshing, take a bite. Peanut is wrapped in syrup and cut into small pieces, which is peanut candy. It is crisp and sweet to eat in your mouth. Black sesame seeds are poured with syrup and cut into small pieces, which is sesame sugar. Take a bite, sweet and crisp, like a soothing ballet, jumping and spinning between taste buds, swinging a bright taste.
The shovel was in the pot when the sugar was cooked? Hoo hoo? Flip,? Click click? Knife cutting, bellows? Ba ba ba? Sound, firewood? Beep peel? The sound, our laughter, constitutes a warm symphony. Boiling sugar is a quiet and happy detail, which contains warm affection and is the hometown of dreams on the tip of the tongue.
That night, we kept sniffling and inhaling the rich sweetness, and our troubles and poverty turned into a cloud in the horizon in the warmth and humidity. The cold of winter turns into flames in the stove, into the sweat rolling on grandpa's cheeks, and into the blush on our faces when we chew sugar. The clear night is clean, the moonlight is boundless, the stars are blurred, and the sky is high and the clouds are light. Sitting on the stake in the yard, we are as soft as ivy.
The pure and bright happiness and happiness like sunshine are gradually disappearing in the impetuous and noisy world. I accompanied my friends to the supermarket and strolled among the dazzling array of goods. Occasionally, beautifully packaged fried rice and sugar come into view, a tidal wave of feelings comes to mind, and a soft homesickness suddenly spreads from the heart to the whole body.
Liang Shiqiu said that when the taste is strong, it is home. Tasting the fragrant fried rice candy, I suddenly returned to the pure and ancient country moonlit night and remembered the busy and cheerful scene when my relatives cooked sugar. The rich sweetness and fragrance of boiled sugar made old dreams and became the warmest memory left in my heart.