Grandma has an old-fashioned clay pot with only two "ears" (handles), no pattern, and is charcoal black. The earthen pot is not big, and a large bowl of soup can be cooked in it. For as long as I can remember, this crock pot has been my grandma’s treasure.

During the twelfth lunar month, the family killed the New Year pig to prepare for the New Year. The better pork is divided into long strips, some are hung up and smoked to make bacon, and some are pickled in large vats to make bacon. The less good pork and bones are eaten in the winter.

When we were children, we looked forward to the New Year very much. During the New Year, we could eat meat and there was no farm work to do. At this time, grandma always makes various delicacies with pork. And these delicacies are all made in grandma’s clay pots.

Although grandma is from a rural area, she is very particular. The clothes are always clean and smell of soap. The patches on the clothes are neatly patched, and every stitch is the same size, sewn horizontally and vertically on the clothes. The simple furniture at home is always polished to a shine. The tools for farm work are also neatly placed.

Grandma is also very good at cutting meat. No matter how difficult it is to cut the soft meat, she can cut it squarely. After blanching the meat, it looked very elastic. Being naughty, I even used the blanched meat to build a city wall. Every time at this time, grandma would hit my hand and scold me: "It's very dirty." Then wash the meat, put it in her precious earthen pot, and boil it over high heat.

When the meal was finished and there were charcoal in the stove pit, grandma put the earthen pot into the stove pit and surrounded it with charcoal. In addition to meat, grandma also puts some radishes or other root vegetables in the earthen pot.

Grandma never let us touch the earthen pots placed in the stove pit. But when grandma was doing farm work in the fields, I often used chopsticks to secretly lift the lid and try to eat a piece of meat. The moment I opened the lid, the aroma of meat came out along with the light mist, which made my mouth water.

But the meat can never be stolen. Either I couldn't reach the chopsticks, or my hands were burned. In short, I never succeeded in stealing.

Although the sneak attack was unsuccessful, when the meat was stewed, grandma took out the earthen pot and called to my sister and me in a long voice: "Come and eat meat!" We ran to grandma at a sprint speed of 100 meters, opened our mouths wide, like little birds waiting for their mother to feed, waiting for grandma to put meat into our mouths.

The meat is fragrant, soft and waxy. There is no need to bite it with your teeth, just wrap it with your tongue and melt it in your mouth. After eating a piece, grandma would always use her rough little hands to protect the mouth of the jar and say, "I won't eat anymore. I'll wait until your grandpa, dad and mom come back and eat together."

In addition to meat, tiles Bones are also often stewed in pots. Stewing bones and meat are two different methods.

Grandma also chopped the bones into small pieces, blanched them and put them into an earthen pot, along with some "Chinese medicinal materials" grown around her yard. There is "Jijie grass". Grandma said that eating Jiejie grass will make the baby grow taller. There is also "Stone Calamus", which also mentioned some medicinal effects, but I can't remember it anymore. There are vaguely some herbs, but I can’t remember their names and appearance at all. Only the taste seems to remain on the tip of the tongue.

When I was a child, my family was very poor. I drank porridge, vegetables and pickles almost every day. When I was in sixth grade, I grew up very fast. It was probably due to calcium deficiency. I had severe leg pain that year. I often rolled around in bed at night, crying and complaining of pain. Grandma used her small earthen pot to make bone soup for me, which contained various herbs. She said: Eat whatever supplement you want, drink bone soup, and your bones won’t hurt anymore.

Perhaps it was because I drank a lot of bone soup, ate a lot of bone marrow from "tube bones", and some herbs whose names I don't remember, but my legs no longer hurt and I grew taller.

Grandma’s clay pot is so magical in my heart! Just eating bone soup and broth from grandma's earthen pot, I grew up quickly.

When I was in high school, my grandma’s belly suddenly grew big, as if she was pregnant with a baby and was about to give birth. I went to the county town for a check-up. The doctor said that the county town couldn't cure the disease and had to go to the provincial town.

Later I went to the provincial capital, and the test results said it was uterine cancer, late stage! Grandma was 65 years old that year.

At that time, I didn’t understand what uterine cancer was. My parents came back from the provincial capital with gloomy faces, and I didn’t dare to ask. Later, I heard from my grandfather that it was a terminal illness and could not be cured. The doctor did not recommend surgery and said conservative treatment. It's probably chemotherapy, radiotherapy and the like.

But the family was very poor at the time and could not afford the high cost of treatment, and the money borrowed from everywhere was a drop in the bucket. Grandma's illness is dragging on like this.

I simmered various broths and bone broths in earthen pots for my grandma to eat. Just like when my legs hurt, grandma would cook it for me. I always feel that the soup cooked in the earthen pot can cure my leg pain and my grandma’s uterine cancer.

After I entered high school, I lived on campus and rarely went home. One time when I came home from my monthly vacation, my grandma was sitting on the doorstep waiting for me. I saw grandma on the threshold. Her head was small, her eye sockets were sunken, her lips could no longer cover her teeth, and her wrinkled skin covered her bones.

When she saw me coming back, she stretched out her hand to pull me. I quickly stepped forward and took my grandma’s hand. Her hands were like dry branches, without warmth. She opened her mouth, and a high-pitched voice like a mosquito floated out from between her teeth: "Lan'er is back!" I replied softly: "Back", then turned my head to the side, secretly shedding tears.

I barely recognized her.

My grandma used to be very fair, thin, but very capable. Although she had small feet, she walked very fast. The old lady in front of her had a dark face and a small body, like a wooden figure wearing clothes, but her belly was surprisingly big. Just like aliens in science fiction movies.

Within half a year, my grandma passed away. I haven’t had bone broth or broth from the crock pot since.

After I went to college, I went home less often. Grandma’s earthenware jar is also missing. Asked grandpa, grandpa said: It's broken!

Later I got a job and had my own home. I bought a similar-looking crock pot and tried stewing meat and bones. But it no longer tastes like it used to.