It is sad to sell fried rice with eggs.
They are both overtime workers at Tianya, and they are glamorous about fried rice with eggs.
if a meat-eater like me wants to follow the delicacy in the depths of memory, it is probably egg-fried rice. Unlike the mother brand braised meat and grandmother brand meat cakes and eggs, which my friends often talk about, these meat foods only appear when I have guests and holidays in my childhood. When I was a child, the ingredients were so expensive that even native eggs were eaten only on birthdays.
my parents went to Changsha with my aunt to take root and sprout, but I was left in the countryside and entrusted to a family for foster care. My adoptive parents often travel because they are busy with business, and I spend more time with my adoptive grandmother. As far as I can remember, she is an old lady with thin cheeks, except for the darkroom and the noisy mahjong room. In childhood, loneliness is always accompanied by a shadow. I seldom wander around the yard or play with my buddies. My grandmother was playing cards at the mahjong table, while I squatted on the ground in a daze or stared out at the plastic curtains in silence.
every morning, I am awakened by the greasy smell in my sleep, walking bleary-eyed at the kitchen door and watching my grandmother busy in the small space.
the basin of lard solidified into a ball, snow-white, very much like the snowflake cream painted by the adoptive mother, and grandma scraped a lump along the edge carefully with a spatula. The oil pan, which was licked red by the coal fire, was emitting green smoke, and the lard on the shovel slid into the oil pan and instantly turned into a pool of oil and water.
Grandma slowly took the egg and gently clicked it on the edge of the table. The surface of the eggshell immediately cracked a slender crack. As soon as the two hands were broken, the eggshell broke in half, and the transparent egg liquid was smashed into the oil pan from the inside.
the spatula gently flipped the eggs, which broke up into pieces and jumped between the rice. With the birth of the flame, the rice immediately had life, jumping around in the oil pan one by one. Sprinkle salt, monosodium glutamate, and soy sauce on it, and put some chopped chili peppers on it. Grandma quickly picked up the handle of the oil pan and turned the spoon, and the air was filled with an attractive smell of lard. Before coming out of the pot, sprinkle some chopped onions and white pepper, a bowl of glossy, delicious fried rice with eggs will be ready.
she walked past me with bowls and chopsticks, walked into the room, and put the steaming egg fried rice on the cupboard at the head of the bed. He reached into the quilt and woke up his sleeping cousin and whispered to him, "Li Qi, Sun, get up, come on, get up and cook fried rice with eggs." Her back was shaking in front of me, and her weather-beaten hands trembled slightly, bending over to put on her cousin's shoes.
I have never eaten my grandmother's egg-fried rice. There are two children in my family, but my grandmother still only fried a bowl of egg-fried rice. I know that she doesn't like me, not because I prefer sons over daughters, but because I am not a child of this family, not her granddaughter.
later, my mother brought me to Changsha from the countryside. We lived in the staff dormitory in the factory where my father worked. It was a room no more than 50 square meters. Because of the backlight, there was very little light all year round. It was cold and humid in winter and sultry in summer. There is no toilet or kitchen, and in the narrow, dark corridor, each family is converted into a cooking stove with wooden boards. There is always a thin layer of coal ash floating in the air. The off-duty workers were carrying thick plastic bags containing briquettes to be burned these days.
on weekdays, I was locked up at home. In my sleep, I heard the sound of plastic shoes on my mother's feet. The door closed gently, and the house was quiet again with the collision of several iron locks. This is how the day began. I wandered around the house, in a daze, Rest, and amused myself.
in my memory, I always eat sweet potatoes and steamed buns at noon, which my mother cooked hastily before she went to work in the morning. By noon, those sweet potatoes and steamed buns had already cooled, taken a bite, and were dry. I always swallowed them with cold boiled water. In the evening, when every child looks forward to it, adults come home from work from the factory to light a fire and cook. This time, for me, especially cherish, my mother can say a few words with me, the most important thing is to finally eat a hot meal.
on the day my mother is on holiday, she will make an extra breakfast to comfort me. Breakfast is also the most common egg-fried rice or poached egg noodles. There is no refrigerator at home. My mother poured last night's leftovers into a dustpan, covered with a small piece of white gauze, took it to the balcony, and basked in the sun for a while. The rice is poured into the oil pan, the spatula can crush the rice very casually, and stir-fry it with distinct grains. The mother likes to chop the rice into a small circle with a spatula, then put a tub of lard in the middle of the circle, beat the eggs in, and stir-fry with the rice. The aroma of white pepper and lard floated in the long corridor was awakened early in the morning by a bowl of fried rice with eggs.
it is very lucky to have fried rice with well-defined grains. There is no pressure cooker at home, the variety of rice is not good, plus it is installed in an iron hand, steamed through water, the taste is very sticky and soft waxy. Fried egg fried rice, usually paste into a ball, porridge is not like porridge, rice is not rice, which is more or less sad, fortunately, eggs and lard comfort everything.
after I went to work, I lived with my father and worked in the logistics department of the hospital. In the emergency room at night, the emergency room was so busy that patients and their families came and went and jammed every department. The stretcher pushed from the ambulance, on which lay the bleeding patient, the cry of the woman, the urging of the doctor, roared and rebelled against the silent death.
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the streets outside the emergency room are filled with small vendors, tricycles piled with apples, pears, and peaches; thick quilts cover steaming roasted sweet potatoes, and she is more concerned about the woolen trousers she is knitting; the most lively are the stalls selling fried rice and fried powder. When it comes to the meal, the three floors inside and outside are surrounded by diners.
the boss is an old man and lives in the basement downstairs of my house. Sometimes when I go back early, I can still see his busy figure in the yard. Several large bags of rice noodles need to be separated with small bundles of eggs and seasonings, and several large pots of side dishes are still being prepared. there are sauerkraut, bean sprouts, sour beans, from noon to around five o'clock in the afternoon, he pushed the cart slowly from Shaoshan North Road to the emergency door of Xiangya.
during the day, chengguan catch not only fines and scooters but also hits people when they are overbearing. But in the evening, the laborers continued to come out of the rented houses in the alley to make a living.
after work from the hospital, the family members who came out for dinner blocked the street at the door of the emergency room. I took off my overalls, picked up a stainless steel bowl, went to the street, and looked around for food.
do not want to eat the food in the staff canteen, the kind of dishes cooked in water, only a few ladles of oil and water mixed with oil, will certainly be hungry in the middle of the night. Also do not want to eat Fuxing Street small fried steamed vegetables, facades are crowded in a row of sloppy ditches, and people do not have any appetite. People, when obsessed with what to eat, the best answer is "eat". Simple to a bowl of white rice with fermented bean curd, ordinary to a bowl of fried rice with chopped chili and chopped onions.
"two fried rice with eggs". As soon as the words fell, the old man stood up from the plastic bench, lit a cigarette chic, and then pointed the lighter at the stove, and the faint blue flame came out with a bang. Pour a ladle of lard into the iron pot, immediately soot everywhere, quickly grab the eggs in the plastic bag, and then fall into the iron pot with a wave of the overnight meal. BrotherMan, with a cigarette in his mouth and frowning, quickly tossed the pot, and the rice rolled up and down with the "zipping" of lard. The flames occasionally sprang up high from the pot, which made people take several steps back in a row of fear. Sprinkle salt, put chicken essence, pour a few drops of soy sauce, then dig half a tablespoon of chopped chili and sauerkraut, sour beans, chopped onions, and it will be done in the blink of an eye.
Rice is particularly attractive embellished with soy sauce, green, white bean sprouts, egg yolk, chili red, steaming, oil-smelling, good-looking and delicious.
now in retrospect, why, in those days, I didn't dislike the unhygienic occasion when Brother Man smoked scrambled eggs and fried rice at the same time? Why, at that time, I never doubted whether the bowl of fried rice with eggs was gutter oil or lard? Why, how could I stand by the roadside stall without any image and feast on it?
No ingredient can be more simple and satisfying than a bowl of egg-fried rice, I insist. Especially in the late night of overtime, unable to raise any appetite, but on the way home, in the face of war everywhere roadside stalls, the mood of depression and fatigue disappeared instantly, turned into the smell of lard in the air.
when you are tired, it is easy to lose your appetite. At this time, egg fried rice has to be strong, add more sauerkraut, sour beans, more chili, as long as pay attention not to put too much salt, after all, egg fried rice is too salty, it is not easy to save.
however, when all the mothers in the world heard their daughter coming home from overtime say that she was hungry, an old carp immediately turned over, got out of bed, went to the kitchen to find leftover cold rice in the evening, put some lard into the pan, fried it, and beat an egg. Without the embellishment of chopped onions, nor the flavor of sauerkraut and sour beans, my mother even forgot to put chopped chili peppers, but she still made me eat with relish.