When I was a child, I always got drunk in the winter morning. Before I woke up, I heard my mother turn over the cornmeal bag in the house and the sound of chopsticks stirring in the bowl. The water in the pot is boiling, and if the corn flour goes down, it will be thin or thick, and it will be out of the pot in an instant.
At breakfast, confusion and pickles are standard. Take a piece of pickled mustard knot in the pickle jar in the yard, cut it into silk, mix it with sesame oil, sprinkle it in confusion, and even have food and vegetables. Sometimes some sesame salt is fried and sprinkled in, which is more fragrant and delicious.
Children who eat too much are always annoyed with the unchanging sticky taste and the monotonous color that seems to cause malnutrition. More importantly, it has no oil and water, no taste, and only exists for satiety.
But parents don't seem to think so. They always praise the stupidity when eating, praise its delicacy and sweetness, and praise the warmth it brings to the body from the inside out. They like to break the steamed bread and put it in a bowl while they are drunk, and then savor this simple meal. Listening to the sound of them eating seems to be a wonderful meal. I can't understand how parents respect and cherish food. Even if they are full, in order to avoid waste, they will shout to each other, "Come on, let's divide this." Mother came with a pot, and each person took another spoonful.
On the Spring Festival couplets, my mother will cook a small pot of thick confusion, this time not for eating, but for making paste. On this day, there will always be a child in every household holding a small bowl full of confusion, trailing behind adults as an assistant to post Spring Festival couplets. People paint every door with a thin layer of confusion, and then stick the Spring Festival couplets firmly. The remaining half pot of confusion will not be poured out, and it often becomes the food that chickens compete for.
Confused this kind of food is so simple and capable, it is inferior to noodles, steamed bread and jiaozi, and also inferior to rice and steamed buns. But in those days when rice and steamed bread were not so free, it fully shouldered the heavy responsibility of supporting the family.
The name "confused" and "confused" has something to do with supporting the family, just making a living, not luxurious; Its shape is "gunk", and it can also make things that are muddy, so there is the word "gunk". However, I think the wisdom of naming it "muddleheaded" lies in its "rare muddleheaded". In the era of material poverty, it silently guards, is easy to do and easy to fill, and stabilizes people's hearts. Although it is "muddleheaded", it is necessary to understand how to do things.
Now I only get confused occasionally, and confusion is finally no longer the "overlord meal" that can occupy every morning or even evening. Today, it is like a condiment, balancing the life of big fish, big meat and oily.
No one called it "confused" with me, but I gradually changed my pronunciation after being laughed at "Old Oriental" again and again. I called the "confusion" that I was used to in those days "cornmeal porridge". The name was both official and foreign, and finally saved my face. However, "the local accent has not changed, and my hair has declined." Even if I leave home for a long time, how can I forget its name is "confused"?