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 Wysłany: Pon 10:41, 02 Maj 2011 Temat postu: The memory of cake _ |
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The memory of cake
New Year's Day when the return home down cakes are playing catch up in the village. So I get there like a child. But the memory of playing a very happy New Year cake thing, not only herald the New Year, but also a symbol of excitement. Ten or twenty years ago, rural areas, retained a strong tradition for the Chinese New Year atmosphere. Shortly after the twelfth lunar month Chuxun, people began preparations for Chinese New Year, homemade rice wine, ah, ah popcorn,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], playing cakes ah, from the beginning to wear thick jacket Qin Yun was in the village of taste, so it is, so warm. I live in the little village, the village called Wong Doo, the plain is a very small village, a village ten households, however. So because of the small village of cake to go farther to play a big village. Also not the place to play cake factory is now so complicated, the simple support a shed in the shed to be the most inside a large stove, stove steamer is blowing on the steaming rice cake people sub the job, there is of firewood, with steamed puddings, busy methodically. I was very young when I heard someone's home to do a cake, and I will go and play drives mother cake, and called on Saturday or Sunday to do rice cakes. So that I could come and watch the formation of their own rice cakes, just the way you can first try the machine out of the cake: soft, tough tough. At that time, do cakes to breakfast early departure may be to do cake field already filled a laundry list of a basketful of rice. Father went to queue up, I was in the edge guarding their own meters. Earlier to those who laid the cake can not be idle, they want the machine down just a soft, dry rice cakes on the Zhumie took the wind, but also turning from time to time to prevent the cement in the bamboo strips on the cake . Some greedy white child biting edge of cake, so I might envy. Just want to own can quickly turn to the heart, the sharper the more I long time. This actually to noon, stomach has been rumbling sounds. No place to eat, his father went to the machine to a new edge to the people let me eat cake out, suddenly it with a touch of slightly salty taste in my mouth Liu Yizhuo. After the cake, his stomach much more comfortable and began to wander. Cold winter drilling from all over, but it is actually a hot cake Square cupola, curl of smoke hazy on the inside, Finally our round, and I quickly slipped back to help parents put cake, place cake, etc. so after the cake has long been home when the moon hung high altitude. On the road, cars pulled his father, the mother pushed. I hand cake, and ate a side Jinjindegen. Moonlit, cast a shadow on the road has become the object of their game. North wind whistling blowing, blowing thin body, children, or warm the heart. Home of the mother was busy cutting vegetables cake, the whole family happy to eat a pot of vegetable soup cake. Dad's cake and then again immersed in the flood of other tank, or eat rice cakes every morning to eat porridge or rice cake, until the second year of spring. The most fun piece of the cake is done, my mother put on the cake cut into thin slices and dried under the sun, then deep fry oil, golden, fragrant and crisp, the first month can entertain guests, and this became an childhood, when I most look forward to youth and even food. Time goes by, unknowingly we have gradually forgotten the longing for cake, and now people can eat, can buy too many, a variety of delicious taste has numbness of the people, has few people and then wonder those who do their own cakes. Sure enough, when I arrived at the entrance to the village where the workshop when the cake did not turn to see that I was a kid busy busy scenario, only a few people with a container of some rice dill destroyed busy there, rather than lug a large basket of my childhood, big kids around as usual and turn the stove, clamor for a smile, smear on the radish cake still has hanging in there, but has very little envious of a child to want to eat in the side. I stood on the corner of the crowd, watching the smoke curl slowly rising, slowly dispersed, trance and saw the winter sun cake under a group of people who came to fight, and I heard the slow melody of the
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