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Best rice sticks in the world

by Kiel 4 months ago in humanity
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It was just after the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Yeah, it happened during the Showa era.

When I was a primary school student, my family of six lived in a long, narrow room the size of six tatami MATS in a period drama.

There were four brothers and sisters in the family, from the eldest to the youngest, iron Zai, gold zai, Shizai and her sister silver. I was the middle child and everyone called me "Jimbo".

Father is a taxi driver, mother health is not good, but especially strong, in addition to sleep, has been playing a part-time job outside.

My mother's medical bills were very high and my father ran up a large debt. So my father and mother had to work very hard, but even so, we were still very poor.

Father was often scolded by the landlord for not paying the rent on time.

I was often scolded by my head teacher for not being able to pay for school meals.

One day, Ayako Yoshida was collecting food money from her classmates in the classroom. Received here, the classroom rang out Yoshida teacher's roar.

"Jinbao! You forgot again!"

"Teacher Yoshida, I didn't forget! I remember, but we don't have any money."

"How ridiculous! Jimbo, you just talk."

Just then, looking through the classroom window, I saw a taxi speeding into the campus and then a screeching stop.

When the driver's side door opened, my father stepped out of the car. He held the note in his hand and, waving it, ran in the direction of the classroom.

"Jimbo, I got an advance on my salary from the company, and I've brought you food!"

The classroom window opened with a bang and he thrust the note into my hand.

"Thanks, Dad!"

Although very embarrassed, but on the other hand, I am proud of myself to have such a father.

It is such a poor family, but my parents often buy us some snacks to eat.

These days there are chocolates, cakes, and more desserts than you can count. But for us kids, chocolate and cake were rare dream snacks.

Chocolate, milk candy, is only an outing or sports can eat snacks. The cake was a snack my father bought only for Christmas.

So, what did we snack on? Usually, the home can take out snacks, only cheap bulk rice and glutinous rice fairy shellfish.

It was plain and cheap stuff, but for us kids, it was enough to make us feel satisfied.

We always buy rice sticks from a small dim sum shop on the nearby shopping street. In the dim sum shop at that time, snacks were sold on a scale.

All you have to do is say, "Please weigh me 300 grams of rice bars," and the boss will weigh them, put them in a paper bag and hand them over. The owner of the dim sum shop was a very generous man. Sometimes when he put a little extra rice into the paper bag, he would say, "Oh, I'll give you a little for free."

One year a winter night, only listen to the sound of a "honk! Honk!", the porch place of the door was opened, with the cold wind that blow, father came back.

"It's cold, it's cold. Wow... It's so cold. Did you hear that? The north wind is blowing outside."

All four of us went out to the porch to greet Father.

"Dad, you're home." "We three brothers said.

"Here we are." "Said her sister.

My eyes keenly looked at my father's hands, because my father often brought some snacks and other gifts to us after work.

Today, however, his hand was empty.

Alas, today's expectations were disappointed. I thought so with some disappointment.

When the family was all there, they sat round a low round table and began to eat dinner.

Although it is a very common meal, but it is the mother carefully prepared - steaming soup. Everyone huffed and puffed and ate up the soup. The so-called pimple soup, is the flour and water after the good, pulled into a small pimple, into the miso soup boiled out of things.

Because of the lack of money, when we can't afford rice, this soup will appear on the table at home.

When dinner was over, father stood up and turned on the radio that was on the dresser.

Because television was so expensive that only rich people could afford it, the main form of entertainment in many people's homes was listening to the radio.

The radio often plays songs, quiz questions, and serial radio plays. Live broadcasts of baseball games and sumo wrestling, in particular, are always the most popular.

My father sat cross-legged, sipping his after-dinner tea, and began to listen to his favorite dialect (stand-up comedy).

The whole family laughed and the atmosphere became lively. People like funny shows very much.

"Jimbo, that's an interesting passage. Ha ha ha......"

"When I grow up, I'll be an actress."

When my father heard this, he looked at me and said, "Jimbo, you need some dessert to go with your tea."

"Yes, Dad, and some dessert to go with it."

"I wish I had rice bars."

"Yes, I want to eat it."

"Well, Jimbo, let's go buy some rice sticks."

"But the dim sum shop is closed."

Of course, at that time, there were no 24-hour convenience stores in Japan.

Everything is closed by nightfall. After 7 p.m., the street goes dark.

"Yeah, Jimbo, the dim sum shop is closed. But then, you want to eat more rice sticks?"

"Yes, that's right. But I can't help it. I wish Dad had thought of it sooner."

"Sorry, sorry!

The wind blew harder, and the glass door rattled and clanged.

At this moment, my father suddenly said to me in a serious tone, "Jimbo, there seems to be some noise outside! It's been rustling ever since."

I strained my ears, and I could hear, indeed, a faint noise, mingled with the wind.

"Jimbo, go and see if anyone is out in the hallway."

"Ah? What if it's a thief? I'm afraid."

"It doesn't matter. If it is a thief, Father will go out and catch him."

"Still, I'm afraid."

"That's all right, go ahead."

"Dad said, pushing me on the back.

Nervously, I opened the glass door on one side of the corridor a crack.

The wind whistled in through the dark crack of the door, and I closed my eyes.

When I slowly opened my eyes, I saw something white in the hallway.

It was a white paper bag, and it, shaken in the strong wind, rustled.

It was a paper bag. Fortunately, it wasn't a thief.

"Dad, there's a strange paper bag."

"Strange paper bags? What the hell is it? Gimbo, bring it here."

"Well."

The paper bag was just big enough to fit in a pair of hands, and when I picked it up I felt it heavy.

The family gathered around the low table, holding their breath, all eyes fixed on the center of the table, where the paper bag lay upright.

My father slapped me on the back and said, "Jimbo, open the bag."

"Well, well."

Nervously, I opened the bag and looked inside.

"Wow! It's river rice!"

Originally, inside is river rice bar! It made us children very happy.

"That's strange. Why is there a bag of rice sticks there? It must be a reward from God for getting on so well with you."

Because of the river rice in front of the eyes, so father's words did not seem to be heard. My brother and sister jumped on it, grabbed the rice bar and stuffed it into his mouth.

Father had been smiling and watching us eat, very happy.

My father had bought the strips, which he had quietly left on the porch. Because it is in everyone's desire for the rice bar burning higher and higher when to eat, so the taste is really sweet. I think it's better than any haute cuisine I've ever had.

I still think so. The rice noodles I ate on that windy night are the best in the world.

humanity

About the author

Kiel

Wonderful stories often come from inner feelings.

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