Tofu Love

It was already dark when I got off work, and the street lights were all on, watching the constant flow of people and traffic. When you go upstairs and enter, the indoor floor heating has already been turned on, making you feel warm and cozy. My lover is busy in the kitchen, holding the handle of the frying spoon with her left hand, raising and lowering her wrist a few times, and flipping the stir-fried tofu with chopped green onions in the frying spoon obediently. She looks like a great chef. The tofu fried by my lover is crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. It is delicious and crispy in the mouth. The whole family eats it with a delicious taste. After having a full meal, my mind can't help but think of the past at my grandma's house, grinding soy milk, making tofu and selling it with my grandfather and uncle. The past events of tofu tear apart my endless love affair with tofu...

My uncle is only four years older than me. He graduated from junior high school and is now over fifty. He once worked as a construction team worker, rode a bicycle to buy scrap items, and drove a donkey cart to sell rice, watermelons and other small businesses. In the mid-to-late 1980s, people in my hometown were not very wealthy in their daily lives. They moved from farm to farm. Excluding the cost of farming, they could not save much money throughout the year. However, the simple, honest and face-saving fellow villagers were able to save money before the new year. Always be generous and improve your life, cut meat and buy fish, kill chickens and geese, fry vegetables in oil pan, tofu has many uses, it is the first choice and must-buy, every family prepares New Year goods to entertain relatives and friends to celebrate the New Year festival. The hard-working villagers are busy with their own affairs in winter, humble yet satisfied. Grandpa is a retired cadre from a rural credit cooperative. Perhaps because of his many years of professional influence, he has some economic acumen. He realized that there is a huge demand for tofu before the Spring Festival, which is a golden business period for making and selling tofu. In addition, the older generation in our village There is a tradition of making tofu, so I went to the market to buy brand-new lobsters, large iron pots, iron rice dumplings, dustpans, and handmade wooden scales. I carefully selected and purchased large, plump and bright-colored high-quality soybeans as raw materials. I went to the market with my uncle who had just left school. Ready to make tofu. Grandma carefully sewed the tofu buns at home, and my father made two square wooden tofu containers and tofu bangers for my uncle. Everything was ready, and uncle started making tofu. At that time, rural conditions were limited, and making tofu was a tiring job. It required a lot of water, and the weather was freezing in winter, which tested people's patience and perseverance. During the winter vacation from school, my parents asked me to help make tofu at my uncle's house. Although we are uncle-nephew, we have a lot to talk about, and we can be considered peers.

Grandpa pushed the small iron cart, loaded the dustpan with soybeans, and led me to the mill in the village to grind the soy milk. Grinding the soybeans into puree is only the first step in making tofu. When we get home, we put the dustpan containing the tofu puree on the ground next to the small well. I held the pressure rod in my hand and raised and lowered my arms to deliver water to the iron pot. Grandma began to fill the large iron pot in front of the stove in the south room with water, and then pulled up the heavy and simple bellows, and bursts of flames spurted out from the stove mouth. , reflected the grandma's wrinkled face red, and the rising smoke and heat dimly covered the old man's white hair. The uncle used an iron pot to pour the boiling water into the dustpan containing the tofu puree. It is commonly known as "pointing the paste" in his hometown. This process is very important. It can remove harmful substances and impurities from the tofu puree, and then put it into the tofu puree. Put the tofu milk into a tofu bag made of fine cloth and tie the mouth with a string. The most tiring and crucial part of making tofu began: the uncle was naked, washed his hands and arms with water, put two wooden boards on the edge of the big iron pot, placed the tofu buns on top, and then Knead and squeeze the soft and swollen tofu buns with both hands, so that the purer soy milk will flow into the pot drop by drop, and only some tofu residue will remain in the tofu buns. Repeat this many times until the puree in the dustpan is completely gone. After rubbing it hard, the uncle can take a breath and rest for a while. Grandma pulled the bellows again, and smoke, heat, and the aroma of beans filled the entire stove.

Grandma straightened up and stood in front of the restaurant for a while, rubbed the dust from her hair with her hands, scooped out a bowl of pure soy juice, and let me take a sip. The slightly sour bean flavor was much better than the street food nowadays. The so-called "pure and nutritious" soy milk prepared at the stall is much stronger. I wonder if it is because my stomach is difficult to handle now, or because I miss the monotonous and simple rural life in my childhood? Next it was Grandpa's turn to appear. He lifted the lid of the pot and scooped some "sour soup" from a small urn, also known as "old soup" (when he started grinding the soy milk, he deliberately kept a small portion and placed it in a sealed urn. In the vat, it ferments and becomes sour, serving as a brine to make tofu.) Pour it into a large iron pot. The protein in the original pulp begins to solidify and precipitate when heated. The sour soup makes the soy milk begin to turn into a tofu brain shape. The appropriate amount of old soup should be added. If you add too much, the tofu will be overcooked and the taste will be poor. It will contain less pulp and water, and it will not produce enough weight, so the profit will naturally be less. If you add less old soup, the tofu will have more pulp and water. , the surface is not smooth and has a lot of pits, and it doesn’t look good, so it has to be sold at a low price. My grandfather is a retired cadre with a foreign registered permanent residence and has been living with his uncle. He has done all kinds of work in the fields and at home. He has been honest and diligent all his life. He was not idle in his later years. Sometimes he would argue with his uncle about making tofu, and he wanted to use his own standards and experience in making tofu to ask for peace. After weighing each other, no matter how much they argued, the tofu curd was finally put into a square mold, wrapped in gauze and put on a large bluestone to press it into shape. Only then did the busy family have some time to rest.

The groundwater in Zouping Yidai has the best water quality in the southern mountainous areas. It tastes clear and pure, and is rich in a variety of minerals and trace elements needed by the human body. The tofu made with it is tender and smooth, with good taste and bright color. It is white, has good rise, and has a large portion. Men, women, old and young all like to eat it. Although the groundwater in my village is not as good as the water in the southern mountainous area, the tofu made by the elderly after years of exploration, practice and accumulated experience is still very popular in some villages in neighboring towns such as Sun Town and Jiuhu. Some villages in the north of Handian, like Sun Town and Jiuhu, have very salty groundwater with high fluoride content and many impurities. Drinking such water all year round can easily cause people's teeth to turn yellow. The tofu made with this kind of water is light yellow in color. , small in size, poor in taste, and does not rise well in the pan, so the tofu carts from the southern mountainous area and my village became very popular as soon as they arrived in Sun Town, Jiuhu and other places. The tofu sold out quickly.

In winter, my uncle and I would get up before dawn, ride a big-wheeled bicycle, seal the tofu mold on the back seat, bring a clapper, a portable wooden scale, and a plastic nylon bag to face the cold moon. Or in the darkest time before dawn, set off towards the north with the faint light of the flashlight. Walking out of the village road to the provincial road Qingzi Road, we saw more colleagues on the road who got up earlier than us from Chengnan, Xidong and other places. They were also riding bicycles, wearing cotton hats and cotton coats and hurriedly headed towards their respective places. Set off for the familiar hometown. When we arrived at the village, my uncle parked the tofu cart and banged the clapper a few times. The villagers began to come out of their homes in the alleys, and the cold streets became lively. Everyone greeted their uncle, chatted and bargained, and started weighing tofu, settling on the spot, or taking credit. After a while, every tofu was sold out, and the nylon bags were filled with grain exchanged for soybeans, corn, wheat, etc. When we rushed home, grandma had already prepared meals on the stove waiting for us to come back to eat. I took a sip of cornmeal and sweet potato porridge, ate a big macaroni steamed bun, a vegetable pancake rolled with scallions, and a bowl of cabbage soup with tofu, vermicelli, and bits of pork, and I felt much more comfortable and warm in my heart.

There was an old man in the village who was stingy and frugal. Whenever he heard the sound of banging, he would come out of the house in a hurry. First, he would cut a small piece with a tofu knife and put it in his mouth, taste it, and then say that the tofu was sour and taste bad. He waved his hands and said that the tofu was not good and could not be bought, or that he could not buy it. It's a little trick. First, let someone weigh the tofu. They don't pay the bill at that time. Instead, they take it home on a passing plate and pour out the slurry in the passing plate. Then they come to the tofu seller and say that the portion is not enough and they insist on it. It's all for nothing.

Farmhouse tofu, which is white and tender, smooth in the mouth, nourishes the spirit and warms the heart, gave me a time to get to know and get close to it when I was young. Soybeans, which grew tenaciously on barren land without being greedy for too much nutrition, transformed from a plump body to "broken into pieces". They completed the affectionate gift of an ordinary crop to the earth and mankind, and then accompanied and enriched us. Three meals a day nourish our body. It is pure and white, the same on the outside and inside. As a middle-aged person who has no worries about food and clothing, although I have not eaten too many delicacies from the mountains and seas, chicken, duck, and fish are indispensable in my daily life. Reasonable diet, balanced nutrition, and focusing on health care have become topics of great concern to middle-aged and elderly friends. I am glad that I know and have experienced some things about tofu. I have a different kind of affection for it. I never tire of eating it, and I am kind and respectful. Just like the job and responsibility I am currently engaged in, I can’t help but think of what my grandfather said to me during his lifetime. The words he once said: "Be honest and innocent, and do things down to earth with all your heart."

Innocent farmhouse tofu and never enough farmhouse rice are my lifelong nostalgia. Although I have been away from the land for many years, my heart is still rooted here. With this relationship with Tofu, I feel that life is happy.

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