Just stand by the stove and watch grandma cut the pork into small pieces, put some eggs in the pot and stir the pork pieces with one hand and the other. Although her fingers can't bend straight, she is still agile. When the oil was hot, my grandmother grabbed the mixed pork pieces and put them in the pot. The earthen cooker made a sizzling sound. I watched pieces of crispy meat bloom in the oil pan, like golden ripples, and my heart was full of expectation.
My grandmother in my hometown at that time, I would go back to my hometown every winter and summer vacation, a small county full of fireworks, and my grandmother's house was on an ordinary diaojiao building. In the morning, my grandparents will carry a vegetable basket for an early meeting. By the time I woke up, they had gone home with the ingredients of the day, and sometimes they brought some cakes or gouache to my brother and me. At that time, the pace of life was very slow, we were all young, and grandma was not old.
Grandma talks to grandpa from time to time while doing things, and occasionally watches TV and interacts with my brother. After finishing the preparatory work, she crossed the long aisle with pots and pans and entered the kitchen. Grandpa began to read the newspaper, and there was a tinkling sound in the kitchen. That's grandma's most common state, and soon she can smell the food. Grandma said she would look forward to it twice a year, once in summer vacation and once in winter vacation, which means I will come back. She said she could take me to sleep and fry me crispy meat. It is often a leisurely afternoon, just watching grandma bring me a big pot of crispy meat.
Let me eat with my brother. I don't remember when she entered the kitchen. The only thing I can remember is that she approached me slowly from the end of that long corridor, holding a large portion of crispy meat in her hand. The corridor is usually not bright, so what I remember most is grandma's silhouette, short but capable. I think this silhouette must have a reassuring smile. Many years later, after a long time, life became faster, we grew up, and grandma was old.
My hometown has been modernized, and my old house has been demolished. My grandmother moved into the commodity building with her brother. The last time she fried crispy meat for me was the Spring Festival the year before her death. My grandfather has gone, and she lived alone for five years that year. She said that she was lonely, missed her grandfather and often slept with his clothes. Knowing that I was going back to my hometown that day, she stared at the corner where I appeared on the balcony early until I appeared and called her.
With a reassuring smile on her face, she waved to me hard until she saw me enter the unit building. This picture is repeated every year, just like my tacit understanding with her. As long as I come back, she must be in the corner of the balcony, which makes me feel at ease. No matter how far you go, as long as you come back, there will be people who care about themselves and wait for them. She hugged me when I came in, like a child waiting for candy. When I settled down, she went into the kitchen and began to fry crispy meat.
She said that she knew I liked eating, and she prepared a lot early in the morning. I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough to eat, so I smiled and watched it with her. Grandma taught me when she couldn't beat me. I listened carefully and wrote it down in my notebook. I'm afraid if I make a mistake, it will make the taste worse. I have never asked myself so accurately. Although there are too many recipes about crispy meat, I only love the taste she makes.