On the 362nd day, I felt excited after eating a bowl of noodles.

There are some flavors that last forever and have endless aftertaste.

2018.8.4? Saturday? Cloudy

After shopping, I walked towards the bus stop. Turning around, I saw a very conspicuous store sign that read: Baoji Rolling Dough. I am not interested in the white fonts on the signboard, nor am I interested in the red background on the signboard.

What I am most interested in is rolling out the dough. These three words seem to have endless magic power, pulling out memories that have been sealed for many years and stories about every corner of life.

Rolled dough is a unique snack in Guanzhong, Shaanxi. The way to eat it is very similar to a way of eating called "nianpi" in the city of Ordos.

Dough skin is called stuffed skin in some places.

The first time I remember eating dough was twenty years ago. That year, a market was set up in the village. Villagers from eight surrounding villages, dressed in new clothes, gathered at the market with happy smiles.

Both sides of the narrow street are lined with awnings and stalls set up by vendors.

There are sellers of clothes, shoes, dried fruits and roasted seeds and vegetables, fruits and vegetables, all kinds of food and drink, meat sellers, farm tools, everything is really there.

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

My mother leaned over and asked, "How much does a bowl cost?" "Two dollars and a half," the shopkeeper said. My mother pinched her trouser pocket subconsciously, then turned to look at our siblings. Her lips moved hard, but she didn't say a word.

It's our turn. My brother and I were standing in front of a case full of ingredients. We were stumbled by the colorful colors and the aroma of sesame and sunflower oil, and we couldn't move even half a step. He stared straight at the face, as if he was afraid that it would grow wings and fly away if he wasn't careful.

"I want a bowl." Mother said.

With a clank of time, a bowl of stuffed skin was brought to the table and placed in front of us.

"Eat quickly, you two." Mother said. The younger brother was so anxious that he picked up the chopsticks and put them into the bowl.

"It's so delicious!" He exclaimed, squinting his eyes. I also stretched my chopsticks towards the bowl. You use chopsticks, I use chopsticks, and in the blink of an eye, the dough is gone, and there is still a little soup at the bottom of the bowl.

My brother reached for the bowl and I glared at him. My mother said, "You can drink whatever you want, no one will laugh at you."

The younger brother raised his neck and turned the bottom of the bowl upward. That day, my mother didn't even taste the slightest bit of flavor in that bowl of dough.

Later, every time I thought about this, I felt bitter in my heart.

Within a few years, those ingenious women in the countryside learned to make dough from nowhere or from whom. Mother is one of them.

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

My brother and I cheered, as happy as the New Year.

Delicious food takes time and labor. As soon as the gastrodia was bright, my mother got up. Get up and live well, put it aside and wake up. Then he carried the iron bucket to the well to draw water. The cooler the water, the better. Put the risen dough in a basin with cold water, and knead it over and over again, up and down, left and right. The washed white batter is poured into a large basin and placed. The washed gluten is smooth to the touch and very elastic when pulled. My mother said that the gluten must be steamed to make it delicious.

My mother makes dough. She is the chef and I am the assistant. After she prepared the batter, I also held the firewood in front of the stove. Bring the water to a boil over high heat. Mother spreads a layer of vegetable oil on a shallow plate with two flat bottoms, then scoops a spoonful of batter and pours it evenly on the plate, and puts the plate on the boiling water.

In twenty or thirty seconds, a piece of dough was peeled off and placed on the grate made of sorghum poles. My mother would do this repetitive action dozens of times. The steam was rising in front of the iron pot, and beads of sweat slowly appeared on my mother's forehead.

Half of the whole work is completed only when the cover is revealed. The remaining one-half is used to make the soup.

In summer, vegetables are free. In the garden, there are peppers planted by my mother, cucumbers planted, tomatoes trellised, and leeks and coriander growing high in the ground.

Grate the cucumber, stir-fry the tomatoes and peppers in oil, add water and boil. Chop the leeks and coriander, sprinkle with salt and drizzle with hot oil.

Crush a few more cloves of garlic to make garlic juice and set aside. There is also an ingredient that is only available in our place - spicy liver.

These dishes take more time to prepare. By the time they are all prepared, the dough is almost cool.

Let’s eat.

I usually eat one bowl to taste, two bowls to stuff between my teeth, and three bowls to feel just full.

Later, we moved elsewhere. One summer, my mother made dough again. It happened that a neighbor came to borrow something, so my mother enthusiastically left the neighbor with a bowl of dough before leaving.

The neighbor has never seen what dough is, let alone tasted it.

When she took a little bit and put it in her mouth, her eyes lit up.

The neighbor ate a bowl of dough, snored, took the things, and went back happily and contentedly. Within two days, people came to my house almost every day, mostly aunts and ladies.

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

They asked eagerly as soon as they entered the door.

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

I went to college in the provincial capital. Once I went to a food city with my cousin for dinner. My cousin said, eat dough. The sign said: Bameng Noodles.

Bameng is the main position in the Hetao Plain. The Yellow River flows through there. The wheat watered by the Yellow River water is chewy and chewy. Of course, the dough is also top-notch.

However, after Bameng Nianpi drifted to the prosperous place of the provincial capital, she was just like a little village girl who had never left home and suddenly fell into the world of flowers, and she was a little panicked. The taste of the dough can be imagined.

I have also eaten authentic Bameng noodles. When I was teaching in the countryside, I had a colleague who was from Ba Meng. Every time she would bring Ba Meng dough to us to eat, to comfort us from the loneliness we felt outside.

Behind the Baiyun Shopping Center in Xuejiawan, there is a noodle shop called Zhang Xiannv Bameng Noodles. The first time I went to eat near Baiyun Shopping Mall, I went to this restaurant.

At that time, her dough was chewy, the soup was real, and it tasted good. A few years later, the restaurant is still there, but the taste of the dough is not as good as before.

Since then, I rarely eat dough anymore.

This time I went to the street and found another dough-making restaurant, this Baoji dough-making restaurant. Ate once and it tastes authentic. The chili oil is shiny and the sesame seeds are fried to perfection. The bean sprouts and cucumbers as side dishes complement the dough itself.

This restaurant has just opened. As a lucky person, I have tasted another delicacy in the small town of Xuejiawan, and my heart is full of joy.