Grandma's Daoxiao Noodles
When I was about seven or eight years old, my mother sent me to my grandmother's house.
I still don't know why my mother sent me there, probably because I was too stubborn. I remember that I was very reluctant to go to my grandmother's house beforehand, and I used various funny ways to resist. But in the end, I was still dragged there by my mother. Although I have been indignant about this for three days, now that I think about it, I should really thank my mother for her decision.
In the 1980s, there was no road to my grandmother's place, so my mother and I had to walk for a while. When the mother, carrying cake and wine, and carrying her delicate child, walked back and forth, feeling tired and exhausted, she saw her grandfather with white hair and a red face running all the way to pick him up.
I don't know why, but when I was a child, I was afraid of my grandfather. I'm afraid of his full beard and sharp wrinkles like a blade, and even more afraid of his big hands with carrot like fingers, but I'm not afraid of him holding me. My mother said that when I was first born, my grandfather hugged me. It was scorching hot then, and he seemed afraid of me getting hot, so he held me straight in his arms, supported me, and walked around the village. Whenever he met someone, he would say, "This is my grandson
The appearance of my grandfather has made me more upright. The mother, who was able to catch her breath, walked into the village with her grandfather, laughing and joking. After walking for a while with twists and turns, the grandmother's house, which was obscured by willows and locust trees, appeared in front of me.
The grandmother with gray hair and a smiling face was already waiting at the door. She obediently responded to her mother's greeting, reached out to block the cake that her mother had held in both hands, squatted down and pulled me into her arms. Her hard fingers touched my head and smiled, saying, "Our house is shiny and tall." But I pouted, feeling unhappy. I don't like this place, I don't feel like it's my home.
The whole family walked into the house with laughter and joy, except for me who was kicked by my mother.
The pain in my buttocks made me sniffle, with a painful expression on my face. My grandmother quietly handed me a piece of candy, but it didn't work. I held the candy in my mouth and whimpered.
At lunch, grandma brought a pot of steamed buns.
The appearance of cake is very similar to what we call Mantou. Maybe it's Mantou, but it's called differently. The cake steamed by Grandma is really delicious. When it was first cooked, it was slightly yellow, unlike the Mantou in the city food store. It was so white that people lost their appetite at first sight. Holding a piece of cake in my hand, I gently scalded it, and my whole body warmed up, even my heart felt soft and scalded. With the steaming heat, I took a big bite and the tender fragrance flowed from my mouth to my stomach. The soft and sweet taste, left between the tongue and teeth, is unforgettable.
However, the most unforgettable thing for me is the Daoxiao Noodles carefully prepared by my grandmother.
The first time I ate Grandma's Daoxiao Noodles was not long after my mother left. As someone who has lived by my mother's side since childhood, watching her gradually receding figure, I suddenly felt a great sense of grievance. She opened her mouth and my grandmother's candy bar arrow flew out with a crossbow. Before my grandparents could react, I was already crying uncontrollably.
Sweat beads immediately oozed from my grandfather's bronze colored face. He fed me candy, bought me colorful stickers, and even carried me on his shoulders to see the big cow's family getting married. I paid no attention to my anxious grandfather and cried loudly with my mouth wide open.
My grandmother looked at me without saying a word and walked quietly to the kitchen, where she became busy with a tinkling sound. When I cried until it was heart wrenching, my grandmother also kicked her feet and handed me a bowl of noodles.
A strange fragrance made me stop crying uncontrollably.
Go ahead, child. "She picked up the noodles and fed them into my mouth.
Without hesitation, I took a small bite. This is indeed a small bite, a small mouth, gently biting, but it is enough to make me laugh through tears. I suck my tongue and chew my noodles loudly, and my eyes can no longer be separated from that bowl and chopsticks.
From then on, whenever I cried, my grandmother would always make noodles for me to eat.
I still can't know how my grandmother made a bowl of ordinary noodles so delicious. Grandma was good at making noodles when she was young, especially Daoxiao Noodles. I have personally seen my grandmother meet in person, which is indeed something that ordinary people cannot do. Firstly, you must have all your strength, otherwise, you won't be able to knead just the noodles. Knead it too small, the dough became soft, and as soon as it came out of the pot, it stuck all the way, shrinking into a lump of batter that couldn't taste anything. When grandma kneads dough, she always uses all her strength to press it down and then pull it up… until the dough is so hard that it makes a loud noise, then grandma goes to open the extra large iron pot.
Noodle cutting is a detailed task that can be described as pleasing to the eye. Grandma skillfully swung her clumsy kitchen knife up and down, the flying blades resembling fluttering butterfly wings. The blades narrowly grazed her fingers, but never sharpened. The shimmering blade swallowed pink and white jade pieces, and the flying flowers splashed into the rolling water. The crystal clear water droplets fell onto the edge of the pot and rolled back into the pot, shouting loudly.
Although the noodles need to be finely kneaded and shaved, the essence is all in the soup. The soup ingredients used by my grandmother are just seaweed, sea rice, scallions, ginger, garlic, etc. Adding at most one egg will make this pot full of freshness. Boil it vigorously for a while, then scoop it up hot and add a tablespoon of oil flower scattered noodle soup. Add a few drops of sesame oil unnecessarily, and the supreme deliciousness will emerge steaming hot.
Holding the oversized sea bowl from my grandmother's house, I went all the way to the house upside down and swallowed it while it was hot. The taste was so intense that even the Jade Emperor couldn't sit still.
Holding up that bowl of noodles and teasing the neighbor's dog with a smacking mouth was my favorite thing to do at that time.
After doing too much, the lifeless dog began to cry. At this moment, the loving grandmother asked the dog to go out and asked me to give him half of the food. If I'm happy, I'll pick a few for him. If I'm upset, I'll hold the bowl in my arms and never let go. The smiling grandmother had no choice but to make another bowl.
Looking back now, the years I spent at my grandmother's house were probably the happiest times of my decades of life.
I am growing up day by day, but my grandmother is getting older and older. Her straight waist bent down, and her strong steps began to falter, unable to make noodles for me as often as possible. I am gradually becoming more sensible and no longer pestering her for noodles to eat. I don't want to see her sweating profusely while making noodles, I really don't want to.
When I was about to graduate from junior high school, my mother asked me to go back to the city to take the high school entrance exam. I don't want to leave my grandmother, so I hide from my mother everywhere. My mother had no choice but to ask my grandmother to persuade me, but she remained silent. She hunched over and moved step by step to the kitchen.
At noon, my mother called me to eat, but I remained silent. My grandfather also called, but there was no response. I didn't walk out the door until my grandmother arrived. But I was stunned, I was stunned by the full pot of noodles on the table. I turned my head to look at my grandmother, and her eyes turned red. She scooped out a large bowl of steaming hot noodles, carefully mixed them with sesame oil and vinegar, and handed them to me tremblingly.
I was speechless, I knew what my grandmother meant, I just lowered my head and took big bites of my face. After dinner, my mother cautiously said she wanted to take me back, but I didn't say anything.
On the day I returned to the city, my grandmother walked me to the village entrance with a cane. She held my hand tightly, refusing to relax. My grandmother's hand was still hard, but her palm felt a bit cold, not as warm as before.
The bus arrived, and my grandmother suddenly pushed away my hand and turned her back.
My tears had already filled my eyes, but I bit my lip and held on desperately.
The car door opened, and I rushed up with my head down, sitting stiffly in my seat, staring blankly at the tips of my shoes.
The car was empty, just like my heart. The car moved, and the rolling wheels threw grandma far ahead. I can no longer tolerate this feeling and hastily turned my head. Grandma's figure was small, she waved her hand and wiped something on her face. My tears can no longer be suppressed, they surge out of my eyes.
More than ten years have passed, and the scene of my grandmother sending me back to the city is still vivid in my memory, with a fresh image.
Last Spring Festival, I went to visit my grandmother. My grandmother, who received the news, had already sat on the bluestone at the entrance of the village waiting for me, with my little cousin standing next to her. My grandmother's eyes were already blurred, and she couldn't see the passing pedestrians clearly.
As I walked out of the car door, my little cousin clapped his hands and called out to my grandmother, "Grandma, grandma! Cousin is here!" My grandmother trembled and stood up. She grabbed my hand and reached for my head with her hard fingers.
My house has grown taller again, "she said with an empty mouth.
My grandmother doesn't know, I haven't grown for many years. She can't reach my head just because her waist is getting bent more and more.
My heart is sour.
At home, my grandmother put down her cane and went to cook, but no one could stop her. Needless to say, she must have gone to make Daoxiao Noodles. Fortunately, Auntie had already made the noodles, while Grandma just put them in the pot and waited for them to ripen.
After a while, the grandmother, who was supported by her younger cousin, finally brought her face into the house. Go ahead, child, "she handed me the noodles.
I took a bite and stopped, the noodles were bitter.
Grandma smiled and said, "I heard you were coming, so I asked your aunt to make some noodles early in the morning. Knowing that you have a heavy mouth, I added a little more salt." Grandma's hand trembled as she pointed to a glass bottle on the cabinet.
I followed my grandmother's finger and saw what kind of salt was there, clearly a bottle full of alkali.
Grandma is really getting old!
I seem to need to say something, but I feel like I should keep silent even more.
With relish, I finished eating that side.