This bowl of rice is not complicated, it's simple. Stir-fry lard and leftovers, add some salt, and sprinkle a little chopped green onion if possible, and it will be a delicious bowl of oily rice.
When I was a child, my family was poor and my life was tight. Even pure white rice is rarely eaten, and it is common to have no food. At this time, if we have a bowl of rice with oil and salt, it will be our most luxurious food.
At that time, the vegetable oil in eastern Hubei was mainly vegetable oil, cotton oil and a small amount of sesame oil, and lard was very precious.
The so-called lard is to buy pork at home on holidays, separate the fat from the thin, cut the fat into small pieces and cook it repeatedly in an iron pot, and store the boiled oil in a crock. Only when guests come can they be used for cooking or cooking. All the dishes and noodles fried with lard are delicious.
Fried rice with lard is rare. Either mom went out to attend some weddings and funerals next door, or someone was sick, or the school issued a certificate and so on. Only in this way can we enjoy the treatment of oil rice. Such a bowl of rice is both comfort and reward.
The fried rice with oil and salt cooked by my mother is very fragrant. It was a very happy thing to watch my mother fry rice with oil and salt when I was a child. Every time my mother fried rice with oil and salt, I would stand by and watch the earthen stove. When my mother was cooking, I swallowed. I watched my mother add firewood to the earthen stove hall one by one, burning iron pots and smoking. Then, my mother put half a spoonful of lard and a proper amount of salt at the bottom of the pot, stirred it with a spatula a few times, and poured the leftovers in. When the rice was almost cooked, she put a little chopped green onion, and a faint mixed fragrance of oil, salt and onion also surrounded the kitchen table. At this time, my mother will stir fry quickly and continuously with a spatula, and evenly mix the oil, salt and onion with the rice until the rice grains shine, and the rice crust is slightly fried at the bottom of the pot, and a bowl of delicious oil, salt and rice is ready.
Standing by the fire, I can't wait long, so I'll get a bowl at once. The white rice fried with lard becomes loose and tough at this time, and it is really wonderful to eat in your mouth. In a short time, a bowl of oily rice was wolfed down, and even one or two small grains left at the bottom of the bowl were licked clean with their tongues sticking out. At this time, my mother was watching us eat with a smile. Sometimes, if we don't have enough to eat, she will take out a spatula and scrape the grains of rice stuck to it into our mouths with chopsticks.
What I am looking forward to most is that my mother goes out to participate in some activities of the villagers. Whenever my mother has no time to cook for us, she will give us a chance to fry rice with oil and salt. Taking this opportunity, I will shovel a spoonful of lard to the bottom of the pot, pour rice on it and fry it like my mother. Then he picked up a big bowl of lard rice and walked in the village, eating a shiny face. That kind of pride, that kind of beauty, let the companions envy.
Nowadays, our daily necessities are greatly enriched, fish is no longer a rarity, and it is far away from the days without food, but lard has become redundant in the kitchen. But I occasionally fry fried rice with leftover rice. In addition to oil and salt, I will add seasonings such as soy sauce, monosodium glutamate and chopped green onion, and sometimes I will add ingredients such as eggs, vegetables and ham. Although the fried oil rice is rich in color, crisp and vivid, and full of flavor, it will never taste the surprise and happiness of childhood. That kind of pure oil and salt rice has become my historical memory.
Recently, I accidentally read a poem "A Bowl of Fried Rice", which immediately activated my sealed memory. This poem is written like this:
The day before yesterday, I came home from school
There is a bowl of rice with oil and salt in the pot.
Yesterday, I came home from school
There is not a bowl of rice with oil and salt in the pot.
Today, I came home from school.
Stir-fry a bowl of rice with oil and salt and put it in front of mother's grave.
This poem was written by a girl named Li Daimei in Changyang Tujia Autonomous County, Hubei Province. Her pen name is "Daimei". She only lived 18 years old and died in a car accident. This poem is only 52 words, similar to line drawing, and it is unremarkable. This poem reveals the quality of life of a poor mother. Kindness, warmth and persistence make the image of this Chinese mother so real, vivid and touching!
Chewing such simple sentences as the day before yesterday, yesterday and today repeatedly, I was deeply shocked by this unpretentious bowl of rice seasoned with oil and salt. In those difficult years, how many parents watched us chew delicious rice with loving eyes? However, we didn't think of our parents. We really think that parents don't want to eat, they just indulge in satisfying their appetite. It is said that the writer Liu Xinglong once recited this poem in a lecture, and an old janitor burst into tears on the spot!
For children nowadays, you may understand the superficial meaning of this poem. But for people who live in honeypots, they can't understand the bitterness and too much connotation behind poetry. They may not understand the difference between rice with oil and salt and fried rice with eggs, and the happiness and joy of a bowl of rice with oil and salt relative to the scarcity era.
And my feelings are so real, so empathetic! Because I have the same pain as the author now: my mother is no longer alive, and my mother can no longer prepare a bowl of oil and salt rice for me. I have completely lost all opportunities to repay my kindness ... My son wants to support me, but my relatives are not here. Think about it, who can not be deeply grieved?
"A bowl of oil and salt rice", seeing things and thinking about people, silence is better than sound, and how much effort and tears are in silence.