Song Qiu got up early today. Her uncle's house brought a lot of dried beans to her a few days ago.
She also bought a lot of beancurds herself. There were too many beans and she kept them around, so Song Qiu planned to make bean curds.
Stir-fried twice-cooked pork or just eat it with rice, it's delicious.
I soaked them in water last night. Now I have the fire going, put water in the pot, and pour the soaked beans in.
Cook over high heat.
Wanting to stay at home and cook beans, Song Qiu simply buried a few sweet potatoes under the firewood in the stove hole, and when they were cooked, they would be today's breakfast.
The fire was burning brightly, the pot was bubbling, and the beans were boiling vigorously.
When making bean flavor, cooking beans is very particular. If they are cooked too raw, the bean flavor will not taste good. If they are overcooked, the bean flavor will be the same as water and will not be fragrant.
So you have to master that degree well.
Use your fingers to pinch the soybeans, you can crush them, and the beans feel very floury.
Then a fresh fragrance will come out and that's it.
By now the beans were cooked, Song Qiu and Old Yuan had already eaten sweet potato breakfast, and Old Yuan had gone to the workshop.
Song Qiu is the only one left in the family.
After cooking, put the beans in a bamboo basket and drain the water.
Take a big dustpan and put clean rice straw under it. Last time I made moldy bean paste, I went to my uncle's house and brought back a lot of good straw. There is still a lot left, which is just right for use.
After paving, pour the drained beans in and spread them evenly, then cover them with a layer of rice straw to cover the beans.
In this case, just let it sit and wait for it to ferment naturally.
It has the same purpose as Douban.
The fermentation time is about the same. When the beans look like they have a lot of filaments, you can transfer the beans from the basket to a clean pottery basin.
At this time, put the salt and other seasonings in, take it out to bask in the sun, and the bean flavor will be ready.
When the time comes, you can use it to stir-fry twice-cooked pork or make black bean sauce.
Now that Song Qiu had molded his beans, it was almost time. He washed his hands, closed the door, and planned to go to the inn.
But after descending the gentle slope, she turned into the village first.
Entering the village trail, walk forward for a while and arrive at a house on the left.
During the day in the village, as long as there are people at home, the courtyard doors are not closed, and people in the courtyard can be seen outside the fenced-in courtyard.
Song Qiu stepped in. In the yard, Mrs. Zhao carried a basket of grass on her back. She just put it down. She went out to cut the grass and she just came back.
Seeing Song Qiu coming, he greeted with a smile, "It's Aqiu, come in and sit down. Look, my hands are dirty. Just wait a minute. I'll wash my hands and grab pumpkin seeds for you to eat."
"Grandma Zhao, don't be too busy. I'm here to get some goat milk. I heard that your ewe just gave birth to a lamb, right?"
The Zhao family does not raise many sheep, only a few ewes, which are dedicated to feeding the lambs and raising them to sell the lambs.
Old Man Zhao is good at raising sheep, and I heard it was a skill passed down from his ancestors. Before his family escaped from the disaster, they raised more sheep. It would be an exaggeration to say that they had a sheep farm.
Mrs. Zhao heard that she wanted to ask for some goat's milk, and then she saw the pottery basin in her hand. She was also surprised, why did she want goat's milk?
The daughter-in-law of the Liu family in Dashi Village opposite gave birth to a baby that was bleeding heavily. Her mother-in-law heard that the ewe here had given birth to a baby, and she came over every day to beg for a bowl of goat milk to feed the baby.
There is no baby in the Song family that wants to be fed.
Although it was strange, Mrs. Zhao didn't ask any more questions and said hurriedly: "Okay, just wait. I'll wash my hands and get it for you."
She would give goat milk to people from other villages, but there was no reason why she wouldn't give it to Song Qiulai. Besides, her son was still working in the workshop.
This goat's milk is not worth mentioning. This time, the ewe gave birth to a calf that grew well, was fat, and had plenty of milk. However, she only gave birth to one calf, so I squeezed some goat's milk to ensure that the calf is not enough.
Mrs. Zhao was a quick person. She quickly washed her hands and came out. She took the small pottery basin that Song Qiu brought and went to the backyard.
The Zhao family's sheep pen was at the back, and people usually didn't want others to look behind it. Song Qiu didn't follow him in, but just waited outside. While waiting, he had nothing to do and looked around.
On the left is the Cao family. The Cao family is also one of the largest in the village, with only one more person than the Song family.
Just Mrs. Cao, her son Cao Daqiao, and Cao Daqiao's seven-year-old daughter Miao Xiang.
Mrs. Cao worked in the workshop, and Cao Daqiao was lame in one leg, so she often just made small flower baskets and bamboo things at home.
He was skillful with his hands and his work was very delicate. When he knitted more, Mrs. Cao took Miao Xiang and took these things to the market or town to sell them for some money. This is the largest source of income for the Cao family.
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When Song Qiu looked over, Cao Daqiao happened to be sitting under the eaves, weaving baskets. He was always taciturn and didn't talk much to the villagers. Everyone knew his temperament, so they didn't lean towards him.
His wife died not long after giving birth to Miao Xiang. After all these years, he has not remarried. His family is not rich and he is lame in one leg. It is difficult for him to have a wife again. He has been single all this time.
Song Qiu's eyes moved down again and saw Miao Xiang, who was pouring manure water on the vegetables in the vegetable garden.
In my memory, Miao Xiang also had the same temperament as her father, who rarely talked or talked. She was mostly working, busy at home, and never came out to play with her peers.
However, Zhang Zaohua, who was about the same age, could talk to her for a few words. She had also visited Zhang's house, so she was somewhat familiar with Song Qiu compared to others.
No, when she saw Song Qiu looking at her in the courtyard of Zhao's house, Miao Xiang raised her head and looked over. She called out to Sister Aqiu in a low voice as a greeting and went back to her work.
Song Qiu nodded and had no intention of disturbing other people's work. After all, with such a big age difference, she and Miao Xiang had nothing to talk about.
Just looking at a little girl who is only seven years old, holding a excrement ladle and pouring excrement ladle after ladle, which seems quite laborious, I can't help but sigh that life is not easy.
There are too many people in this world who have difficulty.
After sighing, she was about to look away when she saw that Miao Xiang didn't get the scoop of dung and accidentally poured the dung on her legs. She didn't stop and sat down in the vegetable field.
On the other side, Cao Daqiao was busy weaving baskets and didn't see Song Qiu standing just a few steps away from the Cao family's vegetable garden. She didn't hesitate and hurriedly took a few steps over, then crossed the fence between the two yards and entered the Cao family's garden.
Caiyuanzi, go and pull Miao Xiang up.
Miao Xiang stood up following her strength and hurriedly thanked her, "Thank you, sister Aqiu. Manure has just been poured into the ground and it smells bad. You should go out quickly."
Most importantly, her feet were still covered in feces.
Seeing that the man could stand still, Song Qiu didn't intend to keep him, so he hurriedly called for him to change into a pair of pants and a pair of shoes, otherwise the manure would get wet. It was a cold day.
Then he turned around to go back to Zhao's house, but he inadvertently looked at the red mark on the collarbone of Xiao Miaoxiang, whose clothes were not too thick and the collar was not too high.
Suddenly, Song Qiu raised his eyebrows. When he wanted to take a closer look, Miao Xiang had already turned around and left the vegetable garden.
Song Qiu shook his head, thinking maybe it was a birthmark or something? He didn't think much about it.