The practice seems simple. The specific steps are as follows: rice selection-rice milling-sizing to dustpan-steaming-cutting-fishing.
But this process is not simple at all. From the selection of rice, the adhesiveness of different rice pastes is different, which sounds very melodramatic, but experienced foodies can eat this subtle difference.
Then, grinding with a stone mill is generally completed in two steps: rough grinding and fine grinding. After twice grinding, the rice slurry is fine and smooth.
When it comes to sizing the dustpan, it is even more particular. It all depends on the skill of the steaming master. Too much sizing, coarse and rough powder, less sizing, fine and soft powder. But what kind of weight is appropriate depends on the years of experience of steaming powder.
When steaming, strong fire should be used, with special emphasis on mastering the heat.
Finally, steam the flour, cut it into strips, pour a spoonful of peanut oil, a spoonful of exclusive sauce juice, and sprinkle a pinch of white sesame seeds. The flour made is delicious, tender, refreshing and elastic. It's delicious with a bowl of boiling porridge.
Although it is the simplest ingredient, the simpler it is, the more it can stimulate people's taste buds, because it is the taste buds of my hometown.
I was particularly puzzled when I was a child. Why do adults who go out to work go all the way back to their hometown on holidays? When they entered the house, they had no time to put down their luggage. The first sentence is: "Come on, let's eat a plate of powder while it's still early." On the day before leaving their hometown, the adults went to eat a plate of powder again, as if they were performing some kind of ceremony. Isn't fishing for powder just a simple and ordinary breakfast? Is there anything to eat outside? Are you used to eating delicious food and still want to eat powder?
Until I grew up and went to college in other places, I ate a lot of similar steamed powder, mostly steamed by machine, with different thickness, no toughness, unpleasant taste and difficult to ponder the sauce. It's just food to fill my stomach. At this time, I especially miss the fish powder in my hometown, the fragrant rice smell when the white cloth is uncovered, the nourishing sound of peanut oil and secret sauce, the posture of white sesame flying on the fish powder, and the rich rice porridge after eating the fish powder. I finally understand why adults who go out to work can't wait to eat authentic fish powder as soon as they return to their hometown. That's the smell of hometown, from taste buds to physical satisfaction to spiritual satisfaction.
Eating is too easy, but homesickness is hard to fill. After eating a lot of gorgeous food outside, my stomach is full, but my heart is empty. Only by returning to a familiar place and having a meal can the soul find its belonging and dependence.
How I want to go back to my hometown and walk into my home-
"Hey, I'm going home. Let's go and eat powder."