Pickles from hometown

My hometown is among the Taiyi Mountains, the south of the east is the mountainous land, a small river from the south of the village to the north slowly flowing, into the Chaibun River. There is a kind of vegetable called vetch, which is the raw material for making savory dishes.

In the south of the village, there is a large area of puddling land, depending on the river, the soil quality is good, the land is trapezoidal, every year after the mango seeds, the village people will be transported to the field of manure, after watering, with a stiff hoe to prepare the ground, the ground into a ridge, and then wait for a period of time, people planted cranberries on the ridge.

Half a month later, green buds sprouted on the ridges. At this time, people turn on the water hose at the river and water the ground again. After more than 10 days, people started to interchange the cranberry seedlings on the ridge. The seedlings are pulled out from the weak ones and the strong ones are left behind. These procedures are well done, it will save your mind, let the cranberry seedlings in the sunlight, in the rain, slowly grow it.

The sorghum in the flat turned red and was harvested; the pumpkins on both sides of the ground were also ripe and picked into baskets. This is also the time to harvest the vines.

The people of the village took their stiffnesses and pushed their rubber-wheeled carts and went to the field to collect the vines. The cranberries are long and thick, slightly green at the front and creamy white at the back, and their tassels are dark green. The people shouted and laughed as they carried baskets of vines to their homes.

The people of the village started to pickle the pickles when the vine was available.

The mother was very careful when pickling the pickles. The first thing she did was to cut the green tassels with scissors, bundle them one by one and hang them in bunches on the iron rope in the yard to dry. The mother said that the green tassels are dried out, so that they can be eaten in the winter to make vegetable scraps.

After the cranberry tassels were dried, my mother put the cranberries in a bamboo basket, picked out the big ones, and put them in an iron basin to wash. Then, the washed cranberries are placed on the cover mat to dry. After three days, my mother put the dried cranberries into a large black porcelain jar and put in salt, homemade spices, ginger, etc., mixed with cool boiling water, poured in a small amount of wine, and gently stirred. After that, the porcelain jar mouth buckle a small basin, so even if the process of pickled vegetables is completed. Mother said, "Two months later, the pickles can eat."

When I was young, the family was poor, usually can not eat meat and fish and so on. There was no money to buy vegetables, so they were rarely eaten. The daily staple food was dried groundnut pancakes, and the dishes we often ate were fried cranberries, boiled cabbage, cranberry pickles, and green onions.

My mother's pickled cranberry pickles are very tasty, crispy and sweet.

I remember one summer morning, my mother made a meal, she ate it first, then asked me to eat. I quickly ate my meal and watched my mother go about her business, only to see her wrap the pancakes and pickles in a cloth and put them in a bamboo basket, and put the iron kettle full of boiling water in the bamboo basket. I said, "Mother, what are you doing here?" "Eat quickly and go to the south to turn the seedlings and pull weeds in the groundnut field."

I quickly finished my meal and hurriedly pushed the bamboo basket, bamboo basket, iron hoe and straw rope with the cart to the groundnut field. A little later, my mother came to the field with a straw hat and two bamboo poles.

The seedlings of the groundnuts were growing vigorously and were green. My mother used the bamboo poles to turn the seedlings, and I followed behind to pull the weeds. The long bamboo poles tapped on the soft ground and danced back and forth as if they were the baton of an orchestra. The creeping green seedlings were turned up by the bamboo poles, and a few locks of slightly red and white roots were highlighted underneath the seedlings, fluttering back and forth in the wind, which was very pretty. Due to the morning rush, I ate little, and after pulling two baskets of grass, I felt hungry.

I ran to the ground, took out the pancake from the bamboo basket and ate it with a piece of cranberry pickle. The taste of the pickled vegetables was even better than the taste of salted white fish, and I still smack my lips when I think about it. My mother turned around and saw me eating and smiled happily.

When I was in high school in a middle school in town, I came home once a week to get food, each time to get food, take a can of jar of pickles, the pickles are specially made for me by my mother. She added chopped toon sprouts and sliced ginger to the cranberry pickles, then poured in a little vinegar and dripped peanut oil. When I was eating in the school dormitory, I unscrewed the cap of the bottle and the fragrance was overwhelming. Several students who had a craving for it ran over and took a few pieces to eat. They ate the salted vegetables and kept saying, "Fragrant, fragrant, very fragrant, delicious, delicious, really delicious."

Every time I go home, I look back on my mother's pickled vegetables. It is the hometown soil, the hometown water nurtured us; it is the hometown people, the hometown love cultivated a delicious delicacy.