"獍粑,獍粑,热獍粑yo." Every time I hear the familiar cries on the street, my thoughts can't help but go back to my childhood.
At that time, I couldn't figure out why every time it was rice-planting season, my father would always choose a paddy field that was close to home and had no shortage of water to be empty first, and why he would have to leave a gap in the middle of the rice field to do it. Mark it clearly, and then carefully plant another type of seedling that seems smaller and shorter.
Faced with our doubts, my father patiently told us that over there is sticky valley and over here is Nuogu. It’s also rice, so what’s so strange about it, I wondered.
As spring passes and autumn comes, the rice fields have transformed from green seedlings into heavy golden ones. During that time, the most common thing I saw was my father standing on the ridge of the field, looking back and forth, and from time to time he would lean down and touch the plump ears of rice.
When it was actually the turn to harvest, my father still treated the half of the glutinous rice as a treasure just like when he sown the seeds. He insisted on harvesting this small piece of rice first, and even asked us to find a red rope from home. Mark it carefully to avoid confusion with other rice.
It’s the same thing when you pick it home to dry. The other glutinous rice is spread on the muddy dam, but this half bag of glutinous rice is dug out in a big dustpan and moved to a sunny place to dry. After three to five days of drying, all impurities were blown away with a windmill. My father found a good plastic bag and put the glutinous rice into a large cabinet, and never mentioned it again.
At that time, my heart went from puzzlement to a little disappointed.
Until one day, it was approaching the Mid-Autumn Festival . I saw my father opening the cabinet, untying the rope, scooping out three bowls of glutinous rice from it with a large bowl, and taking it to a rice threshing house in the team for processing. After peeling off the golden coat, the white rice was exposed, and the slender and slender figure attracted me immediately.
I originally thought that we could cook and eat it when we took it home, but the result was quite different from what we imagined. My father found a small basin, soaked the large bowl of glutinous rice in water, and then quietly placed it on the table.
It wasn't until the next morning that my mother lit the fire and my father slowly put the soaked glutinous rice into the rice steamer and began to steam it slowly. As the water in the pot boils, streams of hot steam pass from the bottom of the pot through the rice steamer, and begin to spread the aroma to the outside. When it started to steam, my father kept stirring the glutinous rice with chopsticks and inserting several small holes from top to bottom. It is said that this is for better ventilation.
During the interval of steaming rice, my father also dug out a rock nest made of stone, washed it with clean water, then found a rock nest stick made of wood and placed it aside.
In the past, it was eaten after being steamed. Is it different from glutinous rice? I hid aside and watched secretly out of curiosity.
"Come, come and have a taste." I saw my father scooping out a small piece of steaming glutinous rice from the rice bowl with chopsticks. The hotness and stickiness I had never felt before made me still remember it. In the heart.
At this time, the father picked up the rice bowl, poured all the glutinous rice into the rice bowl while it was hot, picked up the wooden stick and started beating it. At that time, we always thought that this job was very fun. At the beginning, we could still pestle, pestle, and beat it twice. However, as the rice grains became thinner and thinner, the glutinous rice had already stuck to a ball instead of sticking to a wooden stick. Even if it's stuck in the nest, we can't pull it out at all.
When the glutinous rice was kneaded fine and tight, the parents took a basin, took out the mashed glutinous rice from the pot, wetted their hands with water, and then picked it off one by one. We squatted in the corner and ate hungrily.
At that time, when a relative held a wedding event, he had to give two large glutinous rice cakes as big as an ocean basin and put them on the top of the basket. It was the most honorable gift. Of course, what we look forward to most is when we go home. Our relatives will always cut a small piece for us to take home. It is definitely a delicacy that everyone is vying for.
Later, whenever there was a holiday, my father always called me to ask if I was going home.Every time I return home, the indispensable dish is steaming glutinous rice cake. After so many years, the ingredients are still as simple as before, either sugar or soybean noodles, or sometimes even nothing at all. But the tempting taste has never been forgotten, just like the stickiness of glutinous rice cake that will never be lost, which deeply attracts me to miss my hometown.
