On the 362nd day, I ate a bowl of rice noodles.

Some tastes last forever and have endless aftertaste.

20 18.8.4? Saturday? cloudy

After shopping, walk to the bus stop. I turned around and saw a conspicuous shop sign that read: Baoji handmade noodles. I am not interested in the white font on the signboard, and I am not interested in the signboard with the red background.

I am most interested in rolling noodles. These three words seem to have endless magic, turning out all the memories hidden for many years and stories in the corner of life.

Handmade noodles are a special snack in Guanzhong, Shaanxi Province. Its eating method is very similar to a kind of eating method called "dough" in Ordos city.

Noodles, some places are called stuffing skin.

I remember eating dough for the first time twenty years ago. That year, the village set up a market, and the villagers in eight surrounding villages all wore new clothes and gathered at the market with smiles on their faces.

On both sides of a narrow street are awnings and booths set up by vendors.

Selling clothes, shoes, dried fruits, roasted seeds and nuts, vegetables and fruits, all kinds of farm tools for eating and drinking meat are really everything.

My mother took me and my brother to the market. After shopping, we passed a stall selling dough. There are many people waiting in line in front of the booth, waiting to taste the dough.

Mother leaned down and asked, "How much is a bowl?" "Two and a half dollars." The owner said. Mother subconsciously pinched her trouser pocket, and then turned to look at our brother and sister. Her lips moved hard, but she didn't say a word.

It's our turn. My brother and I are standing in front of a box full of ingredients, stumped by the colorful colors and the smell of sesame oil and sunflower oil, and we can't move a step. Keep your eyes on the dough, for fear that it will grow wings and fly accidentally.

"Want a bowl." Mom said.

Ding-ding kung fu, a bowl of stuffed skin was served on the table and placed in front of us.

"You two eat quickly." Mom said. The younger brother was impatient, so he picked up chopsticks and put his hand into the bowl.

"It's delicious!" He narrowed his eyes and sighed. I also put my chopsticks in the bowl. You chopsticks, I chopsticks, blink of an eye, the dough is gone, and there is a little soup left at the bottom of the bowl.

My brother reached for the bowl and I stared at him. Mother said, "drink if you want, and no one laughs."

When my brother tilted his neck, the bottom of the bowl turned upside down. That day, my mother didn't even taste the bits and pieces of that bowl of dough.

Later, every time I think about this, my heart is bitter.

A few years later, those ingenious rural women, who did not know where to ask, actually learned to mix noodles. Mother is one of them.

In summer, the weather is very hot. The heat makes people fidgety and lose appetite. At this time, my mother said, "Let's make dough to eat tomorrow."

My brother and I are as happy as the Spring Festival.

Good food takes time and effort. Mom got up when gastrodia elata dawned. Get up and live a good life. Put it aside and wake up. Then carry the iron drum to the pressure well to draw water. The colder the water, the better. Put the proofed dough into a basin filled with cold water and knead it repeatedly, up and down, left and right, and repeatedly. The washed white batter is put in a big basin. The washed gluten is smooth to the touch and elastic to pull. Mom says gluten needs to be steamed before it tastes good.

Mom makes dough. She is the chef and I am the deputy. While she was preparing the batter, I held firewood in front of the stove pit. The fire boiled the water. Mother put a layer of vegetable oil on the flat-eared shallow dish, then poured a spoonful of batter evenly on the dish and put it on boiling water.

Twenty or thirty seconds, a piece of dough is peeled off and placed on the colander made of sorghum stalks. This repetitive action, mother has done dozens of times. The iron pot was steaming, and thick sweat slowly oozed from my mother's forehead.

After peeling the dough, the whole work is half finished. The remaining half is soup.

In summer, vegetables are free. There are peppers planted by my mother, cucumbers planted, tomatoes on shelves, leeks and parsley that grow very tall in the field in the garden.

Shred cucumber, stir-fry tomato and pepper in oil pan and boil with water. Chop leek and coriander, sprinkle with salt and pour thoroughly with hot oil.

Mash several cloves of garlic and make garlic juice for later use. There is also an ingredient that is only available in our place-spicy liver.

It takes more time to prepare these dishes. When they are all ready, the dough is almost cold.

Eat it.

It is often a bowl of taste, two bowls of teeth, and three bowls of feeling just full.

Later, we moved to another place. One summer, my mother made dough again. Just when a neighbor came to borrow something, mother enthusiastically left her neighbor to eat a bowl of dough before leaving.

Neighbors have never seen what dough is, let alone tasted it. Her eyes lit up when she put a little into her mouth.

The neighbor grunted and ordered a bowl of dough, took something and went back happily. Within two days, people came to my house almost every day, mostly aunts.

"I heard that you can make dough and it's delicious. How to do that thing? "

I asked eagerly as soon as I entered the door.

While making tea for them, mother sat down and told them what to do one by one. It is said that a neighbor was busy making dough to entertain relatives in the middle of the night. Of course, this is another story.

I go to college in the provincial capital. Once I went to the food city for dinner with my cousin. Cousin said, eat dough. That sign says: Bameng Rice Noodles.

Bameng is the main position of Hetao Plain, where the Yellow River water flows, and the wheat watered with the Yellow River water is chewy. Of course, the dough made is also first-class.

However, after the Bameng dough drifted to the bustling place of the provincial capital, it was like a small village girl who had never left home and suddenly fell into the world of flowers and flowers, which was a bit scary. The taste of dough can be imagined.

I have also eaten authentic Bameng noodles. When I was teaching in the countryside, one of my colleagues was from Ba Meng, and she always brought us Ba Meng dough to comfort our loneliness.

Behind Xue Jiawan Baiyun Shopping Mall, there is a noodle restaurant called Zhang Xiannv Bameng Noodle. This is my first time to eat near Baiyun Shopping Mall.

At that time, her dough was strong and the soup was really delicious. A few years later, the restaurant still exists, but the taste of dough is not as good as before.

After that, I seldom eat dough.

On this trip, I found another noodle restaurant, this Baoji noodle restaurant. I ate it once, and it was very authentic. Chili oil is brightly colored and sesame seeds are fried just right. Bean sprouts and cucumber with side dishes complement each other with the rolling noodles themselves.

This restaurant has just opened. As a lucky person, I tasted another kind of delicious food in this small town of Xue Jiawan, and my heart was filled with joy.