Congee, a particularly simple food, seems to be nothing to study. But I childishly believe that only sticky and glutinous to be able to pick into a ball with chopsticks is called porridge, otherwise it is only called thin rice, or wet rice.
A pot of porridge, first rolled over high heat, and then low heat do, to go through a very long wait. The feeling is like pulling off a handful of time from a fat white day, rubbing it tightly, pinching it round, throwing it into the pot, then it is restlessly stumbling between the rice and steam, touching, pushing, if not, watching something slowly disappear, and finally the bones are penetrating, fishing net like stretching, wrapping, returning, leading the rice and water to one place, turning the bones into tendons and into porridge.
Pick a ball up, there will be no water dripping down, the water and rice are pulling each other upward, really can not stop the gravity, only to catch and land. This feeling, not boiling there is no feeling, think about it is very comfortable, very solid, very warm. The rices are the hot entrance, hot entrance, but there is no such warmth. Rare rice is ultimately cool, porridge is warm, summer to drink rice, winter chew porridge.
A good bowl of porridge, it is the meaning of a knife and a gun. Into that is broken, no matter what kind of eating utensils, metal or wood or ceramic, sharp, round, all can not break a bowl of good porridge. The porridge will always quietly heal. Only with chewing, can break, can enter, be given, also be occupied, the two feelings, the two sexes blend together.
Whether rice porridge, bean porridge, vegetable porridge, as long as not specially seasoned, I think are considered traditional, because you can eat the original taste of the material. Put salt, put sugar, put nuts, raisins, put pepper and ginger porridge, all have a fragrant children’s feeling, both lively and young, but also fussy, but also be well taken care of.
The most unbelievable porridge is once upon a time when I was in kindergarten, a bowl of eel porridge in lunch, pure and true spicy, it seems to be fried eel section directly into the porridge, along with spicy oil, that day the toddlers ate a lot of crying. They threw away their bowls and wiped their noses with their cuffs. I was reluctant to swallow a clove of garlic in the congee, even though it was too spicy to eat.
Ice porridge is a rather special existence, made on purpose, and seems to be no more delicious than the careless leftovers. Just like overnight leftover dumplings, eaten directly cold, fried, are so good, better than when fresh. I can’t tell you how special it is. The remaining porridge in the refrigerator, summer evening out, sprinkle two handfuls of sugar, a few slices of almonds, tsk, leftovers are also a delicacy to come.
I’ve been sick lately and can’t eat anything, so I’ve been trying to make porridge. Every day, the kitchen eight or nine kinds of rice, eight or nine kinds of beans, oats, vegetables, dried fruits, various combinations. The first thing you need to do is to get a congee and eat it every day. And the mouth is recited, this is the antidote. This is the antidote….
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