Text: Shen Chuan

Steam a few baskets, heat a few pots of rice wine, and serve some appetizers. Friends and family sit around the firewood Drinking and chatting in front of the stove was an indelible memory of the Hakka people in southern Jiangxi.

This kind of food, collectively known as "獍粑" in the early years, is golden in color, chewy and refreshing, and has the fragrance of natural plant ash. In the era of food shortage, people were only willing to cook it during the holidays. When making it, the whole family needs to work together, with the adults grinding and the children adding ingredients. Before eating, the elders at the table called it "Tui Jian Qi (獍)" based on the homophony, giving this food a "family unity" ” means.

As the older generation gets older and young people go out to settle down and no longer return to their hometowns, "Tuijianqi" has also been given a foreign name - "Mozhai". The meaning behind the name is also Gradually no one cares.

The preparation of Mozhai is complicated: peel the branches of the "eggplant tree" commonly known as "hanging eggplant tree", put them in a pot and add water to make soup, and then use the ash burned from straw or soybean stalks to mix with the soup. Stir evenly and filter. After the filtered amber "grey water" has cooled, put the stem rice in and soak it - this rice is also particular. You must choose unpalatable stem rice, otherwise the finished rice will be sticky to the teeth. , no toughness.

The soaked rice must be ground into rice slurry with a stone mill with the cooperation of the family. Then the rice slurry is poured into a large firewood pot, simmered over low heat, and slowly turned and squeezed with a spatula. After pressing, the rice milk boiled out the water, and the people's clothes were soaked. Scoop up the sticky rice paste, put it in a large dustpan, apply some camellia oil, and knead it into a long and flexible strip, or shape it into a shape like a dumpling "jizi", and then wrap it with fillings.

Put some straw on the bottom of the bamboo steamer, put the rolled (wrapped) mozhai on it, steam it for half an hour, open the lid, and a different kind of fragrance will hit your nose. When I was a child, as soon as Mo Zhai came out of the pot, I would clamor to eat it. No matter how hot it was, I would sit on the doorstep with it, pouring it back and forth in my hands, blowing my cheeks, and reluctant to put it down.

The stuffing of Mo Zhai is often made of radish, winter bamboo shoots, pickles, etc. It is soft and crispy in one bite, with the flavors of the four seasons. My family likes spicy food, so there are a lot of red and yellow chili peppers in the stuffing. After eating a few, my mouth is salivating and my forehead is sweating, but my mouth will never stop chewing.

The mozhai is rolled into long strips, sliced ??and diced, dipped in soy sauce and eaten, stir-fried or added to soup. Chili pepper, minced garlic, chopped green onion, soy sauce, and sesame sesame oil are used as the base. When boiled water is used, various aromas are dispersed in the air little by little. Dip Mo Zhai into the soy sauce and enter your mouth. First, the salty aroma of soy sauce mixed with the aroma of plant ash pours into the nose, and then the taste of chili garlic sesame oil comes one after another, filling the mouth. When the various flavors are mixed together, it makes the mouth full. It feels sweet inside.

If you want to stir-fry and make soup, go to the fields to pick up tender cauliflower, pinch the tips and put them into the soup or stir-fry to eat. The green and fragrant cauliflower, coupled with the pink and yellow texture of Mozhai, is full of color, fragrance and flavor. .

In addition to celebrating new years and festivals, my mother sometimes does mozhai during the spring rain season. The continuous rain made it impossible for people to go to the fields, so acquaintances would come to my mother to chat, and while chatting, someone would suggest doing Mozhai. My mother would heat up some home-brewed rice wine, and we would prepare the ingredients while drinking. I would often squat in front of the stove, holding a blowtorch and tongs to help my mother watch the fire, while listening with relish to the women's business affairs. The sound of raindrops outside the window. Sometimes while listening, I would fall asleep leaning in front of the stove. When my mother woke me up, the steaming mozhai had already come out of the cage.

Mother never stops working at home and outside, like a donkey blindfolded by life, which only keeps circling the millstone along the route given by life. My father, who is the secretary of the village party committee, often comes back late at night. In my daze, I can hear the sound of unlocking and the old wooden door being pushed open.

If he smells the smell of mozhai through the door, his father will yell to his mother: "Huh? Why did you do a push-up today? Another day wasted! Get up and help me warm it up!"

p>

If on a normal day, she would be called up to work so late, her mother would definitely be annoyed after a tiring day, and a quarrel would be inevitable. But in the case of Remo Zhai, no matter how late it is, My mother would get up from the bed without saying a word and get ready for my father. Then she would sit next to him with her clothes on and wait until he had finished eating and cleaned up before going to sleep again.

Sometimes I get annoyed because my father wakes me up, and I ask my mother not to spoil my father so much. She always laughs and scolds me: "Why do you care so much about me?"

I didn’t know the reason for this until later.

When my father was a child, his grandparents got divorced. His grandfather taught in another town and took several children with him and refused to go home. In anger, my grandmother also took several children back to her parents' home, leaving only my father. At home. The young father was unable to take care of himself and had to stay with his grandmother. My great-great-grandmother was very stingy and didn't like the idea that the family would have new mouths out of thin air. She often hid the rations that the collective distributed to my father on a per-capita basis, and only gave my father one meal a day. At that time, my father often lay motionless by the side of the road because he would faint when he moved. People in the village saw that his neck was so thin that it could be broken by pinching it with your hands, and they all thought that he would starve to death sooner or later.

One year, the village had a bumper grain harvest, and the production team celebrated by doing something unprecedented. The young father stole it and ran away while the adults were not paying attention. He ate some on the way home and kept a few for dinner. Unexpectedly, as soon as he returned home, his great-grandmother took away the mozhai. < /p>

The Mo Zhai meal that he had for lunch was the only full meal that his father had in those years. From then on, the memory of hunger gave him a unique emotion for Tui Jianqi. My father always looked bitter when he recalled this incident: "I didn't get the love of my parents when I was a child. I almost starved to death many times. Your uncles and uncles were treated much better than me. Among the brothers, I had the hardest life."

A few years later, my grandparents reconciled and my father was able to have enough to eat again. But my grandmother is not good at making snacks, and my father is greedy for Mozhai. He can only find an excuse to "beat the autumn breeze" when he meets someone who makes it.

This situation was not changed until the mother appeared in the father's life.

My grandfather was bullied by the captain of the production team. He attributed the reason to the fact that there were no "public food eaters" in the family. Although my father was just a small accountant in the village after graduating from high school, my grandfather still fell in love with him. Ask a matchmaker to arrange marriage. My grandfather was a teacher, and several of his children were paid by the government. They thought highly of themselves, and they didn't agree with the marriage. But they didn't want to disgrace the matchmaker, so they agreed to take their father to visit.

In order to show that he valued this marriage, my grandfather took out the rice that the family had accumulated for many years and made it as a meal. My father followed my grandfather in the living room to chat with my grandfather, while my mother helped in the kitchen across the road. grandmother. During lunch, my grandfather thought the Mozhai dish was delicious, so he praised my mother: "You are so good at pushing the pulp, I am afraid you are the best in Lujing Village." - It is said that the daughter of this family is hardworking and capable, and Baiwen said As soon as he saw me, my grandfather nodded, and not long after, my mother came through.

But in fact, my mother didn’t know how to make Mo Zhai at all at that time, and my grandmother made all kinds of snacks in my family’s family on weekdays. On the day my parents "met" for the first time, my father, who was sitting in the living room, just saw my mother kneading the rice cereal from a distance. He didn't know that most of the work was done by my grandmother - my mother was just idle that day. Not getting down, I helped my grandma make some gestures, and my father happened to see her.

Fortunately, after my mother got married, the family was in short supply of food and my grandmother was very strict, so she had no chance to make these snacks. It was not until a few years later that the fields were divided among households and there was a surplus of grain, that this layer of paper was pierced.

My mother went back to her parents' house to ask her grandmother for advice on how to make mozhai, but my father still couldn't forget the taste he tasted during the blind date. When I was a child, I often heard my father say: "Your mother's skills have not improved after all these years. Your grandmother's Tui Jian Qi is much more delicious. It's a pity that your grandmother doesn't make it very often now, and she won't ask someone to deliver it to her." "

At this time, my mother would just let my father nag and smile without saying a word. But I think that my mother’s skill in making mozhai is already better than her old one.

When I was in junior high school, my mother’s sciatica never got better, my father lost the election and was unemployed at home, and my grandfather died of liver cancer after being bedridden for half a year. The financial pressure on the family increased. In order to save money, my father often went to the farmland to pick up snails. As a result, someone had just sprinkled carbofuran in the field, and he was poisoned by the pesticide and was in bed to recuperate. Seeing that both the daughter and son-in-law had fallen down, grandma came to take care of us and cooked food for us in various ways.

The first time I ate the mozhai made by my grandma, I was a little disappointed. I felt that "it's hard to live up to its reputation" - it had a rough texture, with a strong straw flavor mixed with many raw materials. The taste is boring to me, but my parents are full of praises. Later, as I grew older, I gradually understood the essentials of tasting food and the meaning beyond food, and I began to like the mozhai made by my grandma.

Every Spring Festival, relatives who have not seen each other for a long time gather together at the table to have a lively meal of Mo Zhai cooked by my grandma, which has become my family's "repertoire". Unfortunately, this kind of fun does not last long.

That time in 2015 was the last time I ate my grandma’s mozhai. After the Spring Festival, I went to see my grandma. When I entered the familiar living room of the old house, I found it dark and without any smoke. I called "Grandma" but there was no sound. I thought grandma had gone to my uncle's house, and I was about to ask my next-door neighbor when she suddenly came out of the kitchen across the street, staggering on crutches: "My dear, you're here to see grandma."

Grandma Her face was sallow and her steps were unsteady. Over the past two years, she had heard her mother say intermittently that she was not in good health. She was also afraid that her children might have thoughts in her mind, so she went to the hospital because she couldn't hold on any longer. Her health was deteriorating.

Grandma was very happy to see me bringing my wife and children to see her, and she kept asking me to talk about old times. When it was almost lunch, I got up and said goodbye to my grandma - she was old and frail and a widow, so she stopped cooking and went to eat at several uncles' houses in turns. As time went by, the brothers and sisters became suspicious of each other and had various conflicts and conflicts. They also grew apart day by day, and finally became strangers to each other. Before I came, my mother told me to go home near lunch time and it was best not to go to my uncle's house for dinner.

"You are such a slut, how can you come to grandma's house and leave without eating!" Grandma was anxious, got up and grabbed me, "I heard that you are back, and I know that you like to eat milk. Come on, the ingredients have been prepared a long time ago.”

When my grandma was making Mozhai, my uncle came over to deliver food to my grandma. I asked my uncle to stay with me, but he said he had something to do and left first. . After he left, grandma sighed and said tremblingly: "Now that each family has its own affairs, it is difficult to get together. It is also an old thing to do together during the Chinese New Year."

After lunch, grandma brought some snacks and sat in the yard basking in the sun, continuing to chat with me about familiar people and things, and it was dusk before I knew it. The air began to turn yellow, and there was a faint smell of firewood - the surrounding people had already lit fires to cook. Grandma propped herself up with her hands, leaning on the bamboo chair, squinting her eyes and tilting her head, quietly watching my son playing with other children in the grain drying field. She smiled slightly, and the wrinkles on her face looked like dried radish. pile.

"Grandma, why don't I go back and it will be dark." The sun has exhausted its light, and I feel a chill gradually starting to creep up on me, so it's time to leave.

"Sit for a little longer, huh?" Grandma made a voice that was almost pleading, "You haven't been home in the past few years, and I haven't seen you for a long time. I'm old, and I can only see you once." The roads are better now, and you have a car anyway."

Grandma thumped her legs hard: "I'm old and useless. My legs have been hurting a lot in the past few years. It’s hard to see, it cost your uncle and the others a lot of money. Alas, I’m old, I should be dead, and I will suffer while living.”

I felt sad: “Grandma, we will take you to see it tomorrow. "Just give it a try."

"Your uncle and the others will take me to the hospital." Grandma shook her head, as if to convince herself, "It's a good thing my son had more children, otherwise he would have piled up old bones." Buried in the soil."

I wanted to say something, but I still couldn't. My grandma was guaranteed three meals a day. Compared to my cousin’s grandma who ended up starving to death in bed despite being ignored by her sons, she was considered “happy in her old age.” The happiness of the elderly in the village is like crops. The longer they stay in the ground, the cheaper they become. After autumn, they generally cannot survive the cold wave of winter and will eventually disappear silently into the land.

After the Spring Festival, my mother and I returned to Hangzhou. A few months later, on a Saturday morning, I heard my mother talking on the phone in a daze, with a cry in her tone. I panicked and called. Ji Ling climbed up from the bed, and as soon as he left the room, his wife whispered to me: "It seems to be about grandma."

My mother leaned on the table and sobbed: "Your grandma passed away."

Years later, my grandmother’s body collapsed rapidly and she was in so much pain that she couldn’t sleep. But she didn’t dare to tell her uncles, so she could only complain to the old lady next door. In the end, the neighbors couldn't stand it anymore and told their uncles. When she was lying on the hospital bed, my grandmother had run out of fuel and lamps. She knew that she didn't have much time left, so she said to her uncles: "Call back your married daughter."

But the uncles did not My mother was not notified as my grandmother wished. After my mother learned that her grandmother had passed away, she was anxious to go home. But before she left the house, her uncles informed her that her grandmother had been cremated and that the funeral would be kept simple. They had already finished the arrangements and returned home. After hearing this, my mother turned pale, fell down on the sofa, covered her face, and remained silent for a long time.

When I got up the next morning, I found a lot of wormwood that had been picked and washed in the pool. I asked my wife what the mugwort was used for, and she said: "My mom just went to the market to buy it this morning and said she would make mugwort dumplings."

In my mother's opinion, Zhejiang's mugwort dumplings are long-lasting. It is the food that most resembles Mo Zhai. When she misses the food in her hometown, she occasionally makes it, but she doesn’t particularly like eating it. Every time she makes it, she sighs: “Although the taste of these moxa dumplings is good, it doesn’t match the taste.” The consistency of the paste was still too low, and it was not refined enough.”

When we were making moxa dumplings that morning, my mother was uncharacteristically unwilling to let us help. In the afternoon, my mother sat at the table alone, eating moxa dumplings with her head down.

"Mom, didn't you have lunch at noon, are you hungry so soon?"

The mother raised her head, her eyes were red, and she sighed leisurely: "Push the sauce together, your grandma's cooking is still delicious."

Some fates seem to be destined by God, and my wife also has a special liking for Mo Zhai.

When getting married, according to custom, a banquet must be held in the hometown in Jiangxi. Before my wife and I returned to our hometown, my parents asked me specifically about the tastes in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. Although they tried hard to cook food according to the imagined "Jiangsu and Zhejiang tastes," I could still clearly feel my wife's discomfort. I wanted to tell my parents, but my wife wouldn't let me. She thought there was no need to make a fuss and she would get used to it in a few days: "It doesn't matter to me, I will get used to it sooner or later, but..."

I understand what my wife means. ——My wife’s uncle helped us a lot to get us married and start a business in Hangzhou. My parents are very grateful and want to take this opportunity to entertain my wife’s family. My wife was a little worried about the different customs and eating habits between the two places, which would cause embarrassment. Surprisingly, among the many foods prepared by my mother, the Mo Zhai dish dispelled our worries - it won the favor of my wife’s family. .

After the wedding, the wife’s natal family returned to Hangzhou.

After that, my wife was often depressed. I thought she was feeling uncomfortable being away from her parents during the Chinese New Year, so I comforted her: "We will go back to Hangzhou after the second day of the Lunar New Year, very soon."

The wife shook her head: "It's not because of this. I have been mentally prepared for it."

After my repeated questioning, my wife told me that the day before the wedding banquet, we rented a car and went to the city to pick up my mother-in-law's family. In the village, along the way, the road became more and more potholes, and the brick and tile houses on both sides of the road gradually turned into houses with mud walls. Most of the houses were so old that the walls peeled off in pieces, revealing the true nature of the soil inside. It was tattered, uneven, and lifeless at first glance.

My wife’s aunt looked out the car window, forgetting that my wife was in the back seat for a moment, and said to my brother-in-law: "This place is really poor. The economic level is not even as good as Shaoxing in the 1980s. Your sister is so stupid." , I married into a place like this, with no money and no house. Now the resettlement house your sister bought doesn’t even have a real estate certificate, and they don’t have the money to decorate it. They are in debt. If the original landlord cheats, things will be very difficult. Don’t help. No one helped. ”

Because we were in a tight situation at the time, my wife and I bought a demolition resettlement house in Shaoxing. There was no real estate certificate at the time of the transaction, only a contract signed by both parties. It was true as my wife’s aunt said, This caused great trouble for subsequent transfers.

"You have to find a good wife in the future, otherwise your parents will be extremely stressed." My aunt told my brother-in-law.

My wife was very embarrassed in the back seat and didn’t know how to answer the question.

I understand my wife’s situation. We are under a lot of financial pressure. Our parents are in poor economic conditions and unable to provide financial support. On weekdays, the two of us are careful to avoid mentioning these topics. But this time, my aunt unintentionally "pointed it out". The pressure was like high-pressure steam after opening the gate, and it was difficult to turn it back off.

My mother also noticed that my wife was unhappy and asked me why. I was afraid that my parents would think too much, so I said that my wife was not accustomed to the local environment. Unexpectedly, the mother became anxious: "How can someone not even eat well when they are married far away?" She asked her daughter-in-law directly: "There are a lot of snacks in my hometown. I will make some for you to try."

< p> My mother tried her best to cook all kinds of snacks from her hometown, but my wife’s favorite is Tui Jia Qi. When my mother saw that her daughter-in-law loved to eat, she made a lot of mozhai, soaked it in "grey water" and stored it for us to take with us when we returned to Hangzhou.

One day, there was no breakfast at home. I wanted to go to the town to buy some, but my mother stopped me. She felt that the breakfast in the town was not clean and nutritious. She said as she walked: "Don't we still have success? Now that the strips are all cooked, I'll go to the vegetable garden to pick some cauliflower and put it in the soup. Fangfang (my wife) will definitely like it."

When my mother served the steaming "Tang Mo Zhai". After it came out, I sprinkled a handful of chopped green onions according to my wife's taste. My wife took a bite and praised: "It's so fragrant. It looks very appetizing! I didn't expect that the taste is different when you eat it together."

"Is it delicious?" I joked, "Are you used to it now?"

"However, ordinary ingredients also need to go through many processes before they can become delicious food!" My wife seemed to She wanted to say something more, but her mother came in to clean up the dishes, so she got up to help and put her words back.

My wife was eager to try it and asked her mother to teach her how to make mozhai. She was smart enough to make the mozhai for the first time and it tasted very authentic. Unfortunately, she was allergic to the raw materials and she was allergic to it the next day. I got hives - but I'm not allergic to it, even after trying it several times. Seeing this, my mother stopped letting my wife participate in making the raw materials. My wife could only help scoop the soaked rice into the stone mill, while I took the place of my father in grinding. My mother was afraid that I would be tired, so she stood by and helped push the mill from time to time. Take a handful.

This scene actually corresponds to the meaning of "push the pulp together".

Later, my wife gradually got used to the Hakka food tastes, and when my mother came to Hangzhou to take care of our children, as time went by, her cooking skills blended the strengths of the two places. My wife, on the other hand, often talks about going back to Jiangxi when I have time to try Hakka snacks.

After I settled in Hangzhou, it was not easy for me to eat the Mo Zhai made by my mother. In the past few years, due to the inconvenience of returning to my hometown due to the inconvenience of my children and frequent business trips overseas, I have never returned to my hometown to celebrate the New Year.

As I get older, I seem to have some kind of homesickness, and I am obsessed with learning to make various snacks from my hometown. From time to time, I pester my mother to ask her to teach me. But I still couldn't learn it, and I wasted a lot of ingredients for this. My mother was always very helpless: "There is no young man in the village who always wants to learn such messy things like you. If you want to eat it, just go back to your hometown and cook it for you." "

"This is your special skill. Of course I want to learn it. I can make it for you when you get older." I said.

"If the day comes when I can't do anything anymore, who of you will still think about eating these? There aren't more snacks in the city?" Mother smiled and shook her head, "Who would still think about eating these things on their own now? You can buy it at home, and it’s cheap. You should focus on your work, earn more money, educate your children well, be a good family, and live a good life, such trivial things. Don’t think about it.”

This year’s Spring Festival is still full of things, and going home for the New Year is out of the question.

My parents originally planned to come to Hangzhou to take care of their grandson after the New Year, but they didn’t expect that they would be banned due to the epidemic. My parents are worried about us and miss their grandchildren, so they often video chat with my wife. I am busy working in isolation at home, so I usually just say a few words. Most of the time, my wife and children are chatting with my parents.

At noon a few days ago, I was working in the living room. My mother and my son had a video chat. My son missed his grandma and kept chattering. I didn’t like the noise, so I hid in the study. After a while, my wife pushed the door open and came in with her mobile phone: "Mom is looking for you."

I took the mobile phone and asked: "Mom, what's wrong? What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? Your mother made some pudding. She wants to show it to you." The father interrupted while holding the bowl and chopsticks.

The mother handed the mobile phone to her father, and saw the steamed mozhai placed on the stove at home. The steamer in the iron pot was still steaming, and the familiar fragrance slowly came out. Through the screen and into the nasal cavity.

"Oh, I haven't eaten for a long time. Mom, you made so much, can you two finish it?" I said.

"I advise your mother not to do so much. Your mother insists on doing so much, saying she wants to bring it to you two brothers." The father paused, "I don't know when this virus will be cured. Otherwise, it would be great if you two brothers could have enough food and clothing at home..."

In the video, the mother ignored the father's emotion and just frowned and smacked her lips: "The taste is still a bit bad."

"Didn't you make it yourself?" I was surprised, "Can the taste be any worse?"

My mother smiled and said, "Maybe it's because I'm old. I can’t even cook the rice anymore.”

“Maybe it’s the raw materials,” I comforted my mother.

"Maybe the slurry produced by the electric grinder is a bit thicker. If you two brothers were at home, you would definitely use a stone grinder. Your dad and I are old and can't move the stone grinder anymore."

"It's okay. Your mother has been in a big city for a long time. She has eaten too much delicacies and has become naughty." The father appeared in the camera again holding a bowl. "I still eat well." It tastes almost the same as before. "

"What the hell, can I eat as much as you? You have been lazy for more than 30 years and haven't tasted anything delicious?" The mother's voice suddenly became louder - in her eyes, her father had been a village official for so many years and neglected the family. Although he didn't make any money, he ate too much food and wine and ruined his health. She nags a lot.

"You have been in Hangzhou for a long time, and your taste has changed." His father looked annoyed and took a sip of the rice wine on the stove.

"Still drinking! Didn't you say you only had one sip? Are you dying?" Mother snatched it away. My father was a "high school student" and his mother wouldn't let him drink on weekdays, so he could only look at his mother with a look of helplessness on his face.

As elderly parents gradually change their roles at home, I couldn’t help but laugh. Mother also smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Your grandma also loves to eat Tui Jian Qi. She used to make it during Chinese New Year and festivals, and she would always give some to your grandma." The father began to sigh again.

"Look at your old man (dad), if there is any good thing, he will think of your grandma!" After the mother said it, she paused and glanced at her father, "It is true that when I was a child, the less care I received from my parents. "The more you grow up, the more filial you will be!"

My father looked at the wine bowl in his mother's hand and took a breath: "Eat quickly, don't talk so much, they (my uncles and uncles) will be here after the Chinese New Year!" We) will send her back to her hometown. ”

The medical conditions in the county are good, and her grandparents have been living there since they retired, and their sons take turns taking care of her. I commented casually: "Grandma is in such poor health now and often gets sick and is hospitalized. It seems not good to go back to my hometown now. Who is responsible for what happens?"

"This is a matter of the previous generation, don't worry about it so much. You two brothers, just don’t be like them!" The father sighed, "The relationship has become worse and worse over the years, and we are no longer on the same page. Now we have to take care of your grandma. There are more conflicts and excuses for each other. " < /p>

I originally had something to say, but after hesitating for a while, I didn’t dare to say it out. Over the years, uncles and uncles have always looked down on each other. Those with a lot of money look down on those without money, and those who have gone to college look down on the countryside. Yes, they have long forgotten that the same blood flows through them.

“(Grandparents) were allowed to live in the county town when they could take care of the children and work. Now that they can’t move, they send them to their hometown - all their books have been read on dogs, and your grandma doesn’t even I don’t want to come back, ugh.” My mother was indignant and said to my father, “Your brothers are too selfish. They have gone to college and are in your father’s class. They are not filial and unite with their brothers. That’s what they said very beautifully.”

My father was silent. He squatted in the stove and added some firewood. He lowered his head and blew fire into the stove with a blowtorch. He used too much force and choked on the ashes, causing him to keep coughing. Seeing that he didn't respond, the mother felt bored and stopped talking. She put the phone against the wall and pointed the camera at them.

I watched my parents eating an ordinary meal in silence in front of the stove as usual. The surroundings were quiet except for the gurgling water in the pot and the steam struggling to escape from the steamer. come out.

Scenes from my childhood were replayed in front of my eyes bit by bit. I thought it would be better to let my parents stay in their hometown for a while longer. Maybe as we chewed and swallowed each meal, the "home" that my brother and I stripped away, It will come back to their hearts little by little. For those of us outside, there has long been a watershed between our lives and those in our hometowns, and it is difficult to go back to our old lives.

The only regret is that my son is not even willing to try Mo Zhai, which I regard as a delicacy. Seeing that I was a little disappointed, my wife always laughed at me: "You have read so many books, but you can't even understand this point? He grew up in Hangzhou and must prefer Hangzhou cuisine."

< p> What my wife said is correct. My father’s hometown is my hometown, but my hometown is not my son’s hometown. Some things have changed long ago.

A month later, Hangzhou was lifted from the lockdown. My wife and I ended working from home, and my mother took the risk to come to Hangzhou to help take care of the children. Before coming to Hangzhou, I always told my mother not to bring anything that I could not bring, but just bring my own clothes. My mother wholeheartedly agreed, but when I picked her up from Hangzhou East Railway Station, I found that the suitcase was so heavy that I couldn’t carry it upstairs alone. Before I got home and opened it, I weighed it and it was close to 70 kilograms - I don’t know how my mother carried such a heavy box from her hometown to Hangzhou alone.

Open the box, and inside there are 10 frozen chickens and a lot of meat. My mother always thought that the chickens fed from chicken farms were not as nutritious as the chickens raised in the mountains. Every time she went back to her hometown, she would bring many of them to us, but she never moved her chopsticks when eating: "You guys eat more, I'm in my hometown." I’ve eaten a lot, and I’m too old to absorb it, so I don’t want to waste it.” No matter how much I tried to persuade him, it was useless.

Naturally, these meals were brought by our mother for us.

“Originally, I brought the mortar soaked in gray water, but when I entered the train station, I was blocked from entering. This year’s epidemic control is particularly strict. No matter how hard I begged, it was useless, so I had to throw away the gray water. - It's a pity, there is no gray water, everything is cracked, and the taste will be much worse." Mother squatted on the ground and sighed, looking at the cracked mozhai, she was very upset, "This year's push pulp Qi, it looks like, You can't eat anymore.

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Title picture: golo