Folk delicacy---braised shrimp with cabbage in sauce Qi Fengchi I remember my mother said that when life gets better in the future, she will make you some braised shrimp to eat, so that you can eat enough.

However, at that time, we were satisfied with the braised shrimp that cost two cents a spoon, and we had no intention of eating the braised shrimp paste made by our mother herself in the future.

A few years after my mother said this, life at home changed a lot.

First of all, the eldest sister became a soldier in the first year, and the second sister went to the countryside in the second year.

There were five people in the family who were just eating, and suddenly two mouths were missing. Then my mother went to work in the 57th Brigade of the factory, and our hungry days were immediately relieved.

From then on, when my younger brothers and sisters got up in the morning and went to school, they no longer had to put pickles in their cornmeal steamed buns.

When we went out in the morning, my mother gave me and my younger brothers and sisters five cents each. We took half a piece of steamed bun and happily went to eat tofu nao.

At that time, tofu puffs were very cheap, five cents for a large bowl and two cents for a medium bowl.

We were full after buying two cents of tofu puffs, and we could still have three cents left to buy an ice cube to eat after school.

Our days have become prosperous little by little quietly.

From then on, my mother really stopped buying the braised shrimp paste that cost two cents a spoon.

In the early 1970s, seafood on the market was very cheap. The best hairtail cost only 30 cents a pound, large hairy clams cost 5 cents a spade, and few people ate shrimps. Korean fish and cowfish with skin only cost 30 cents a pound.

It cost just over a pound, but no one was willing to buy it.

My mother bought small shrimps picked out from the stall selling seafood. They said they were small shrimps, but they were actually larger than the shrimps that cost twenty yuan a pound today.

They paid the mother only a few cents a pound.

My mother bought the shrimps and cleaned them when she brought them home. She took the big shrimps and used a large needle to pick out the intestines from the shrimp's belly from the back of the shrimp's spine. She didn't pick out the small ones.

My mother chopped the shrimp with a knife, put two handfuls of salt on it, stirred it evenly, and put it into a can.

The can bottle is not full, there is still some space on top, and the rest is put into another bottle.

I don't know what my mother did or what she meant.

My mother put the shrimp paste into the bottle and sealed the lid, and asked me to put it on the window sill in the yard to dry. After twenty days, the shrimp paste in the jar changed color, became full, and the top lid was closed.

The shrimp paste slowly turned from green to brown at the beginning. My mother took a bottle and opened it. There was a layer of shrimp oil floating on it. My mother smelled it and said to herself, it smells really good.

At noon, my mother brought a Chinese cabbage, kept the upper part with more leaves, cut the lower part into small dices, put a spoonful of milky white lard in the big pot, sprinkled a handful of chopped green onions, and waited.

After the chopped green onions became fragrant, my mother scooped out a large spoonful of homemade shrimp paste from the can, put it into the pot and fried it. There was only a sizzling sound, and the whole house was immediately filled with the aroma of fried braised shrimp.

At that time, the doors and windows of the house were not tightly closed, and the aroma of fried braised shrimp squeezed out through the cracks in the doors and windows. Suddenly, the aroma of fried braised shrimp wafted throughout the alley.

Then, my mother poured the diced cabbage into the pot and stir-fried, then put the soaked bean sprouts into the pot, and scooped out a ladle of water. The braised shrimp, cabbage and bean sprouts were bubbling in the pot.

After about ten minutes of boiling, my mother sprinkled a few handfuls of cornmeal into the pot. After that, the braised shrimp, cabbage and beans in the pot became porridge-like, and turned dark red in color.

Then, the mother took out the fire in the stove, put the braised shrimps, cabbage beans, and braised shrimps in a large sauce-colored coarse porcelain basin, and then told her younger brothers and sisters to go to the neighbor's aunt's house to ask for a bowl, and give a bowl to each family.

The younger brothers and sisters happily went to the aunt and uncle's house to ask for a bowl. The mother filled a bowl for each family and asked them to send it back.

At noon we had braised shrimp, cabbage, bean sprouts and steamed buns. While we were eating, my mother sat in the corner of the kang and watched us eat. Her expression looked very calm, and there was a hint of happiness and relief in her calmness.

The mother called her brother's name to ask if it was delicious, and then asked her sister if the food was better than before. They both said it was delicious before they could finish the rice in their mouths.

Mother asked again, do you remember what I said before? We all shook our heads.

Mother smacked the yahuazi and said, "Everyone knows how to eat it. I said before that when life gets better, mom will make braised shrimp for you to eat."

At this time, I remembered what my mother said when I was a child, buying two cents of braised shrimp and cooking cabbage for us.

We ate our food vigorously, and my mother kept talking to the side, "You must keep your word. When you say it, you make a wish, and when you make a wish, you have to fulfill it."

While we were eating, we listened to our mother’s chatter.

When we were all full and about to go out to play, my mother picked up my brother's torn clothes, rubbed the scalp with a needle a few times, and sewed it up stitch by stitch.