Grandmother cut the two catties of pork into small pieces less than half an inch across. The pieces went into the pot and were stir-fried over a low, steady flame. As the meaty aroma slowly drifted out, more and more lard rendered from the pieces, which gradually curled and shrank, their edges turning slightly golden.
Seeing that the pork in the pot was about to shrivel up, Grandmother quickly took it off the heat, scooping a large ladleful into a prepared bowl, and poured all the remaining pork and lard into a big-bellied oil jar.
The two catties of pork Luo's Mother had bought were streaky pork with alternating layers of fat and lean—excellent for braised pork, but not ideal for rendering lard. That big jar still needed to be topped up with oil; if the lard didn't cover the crispy pork bits, they would spoil in flavor or even grow mold.
After the pork bits were done, the leaf lard still had to be rendered. Grandmother didn't find it troublesome or tiring at all. Once the leaf lard was rendered, there would be plenty of cracklings, and she had no intention of letting the little glutton eat them all by himself—that was food for the whole family, and everyone would get a taste of that meaty flavor.
The thick leaf lard was likewise cut into small pieces. Since there were only a few catties and it had been soaked and washed in clean water, no extra water was needed after it went into the pot—just a bit of stir-frying, then letting it render slowly over a low flame.
The fat sizzled in the pot, a full layer of transparent oil bubbles covering the surface. Just from the color, you could tell the lard was very clean. After about a quarter of an hour, the bubbling snow-white pieces of fat slowly began to take on a golden hue. Another half hour or so passed, and the pot held half a pot of glistening lard, while the plump, snow-white pieces of fat had turned into light, airy cracklings floating on top.
"Grandmother, it smells so good!" Bai Chao had already been in and out of the kitchen several times. Every time he saw the cracklings in the pot change color a little, the delight on his face grew.
Now the lard was almost done, and he would finally get to eat the cracklings. The corners of his mouth had turned up and hadn't come down since.
Today, there would be so much good food to eat.
Grandmother gave a snorting laugh and wanted to rap him on the head, but couldn't spare a hand, so she just said, "Of course it smells good. Leaf lard is the fattiest, richest part of the whole pig—far more fragrant than pork or oil rendered from water and fat."
In the time it took the old woman and the child to exchange a few words, the cracklings in the pot changed again. Seeing the color, Grandmother knew she had to scoop them out now. Cracklings were most fragrant when yellowish-white; if they turned completely golden, they would take on a slightly bitter taste, and the flavor of the whole pot of lard would suffer along with them.
"Chao-ge'er, go put out the fire first." Grandmother gave the order while taking up a slotted spoon to fish the cracklings out of the pot.
She had prepared one large bowl and one small bowl—the large bowl's contents would be stored away to eat slowly, while the small bowl's would be shared by everyone shortly.
Since coming to the Luo family, Bai Chao had already helped Grandmother tend the fire, so he knew how to start it and how to put it out. Before the meal was finished, the fire couldn't be doused with water, or it would have to be relit.
He crouched at the mouth of the small stove, gave the embers a few turns with the fire tongs, and the little flame inside was swallowed up by the stove ash, leaving only a few sparks flickering. He glanced at the cracklings on the stove, set down the tongs, and ran out happily.
"Hey, where are you running off to?" Grandmother had wanted to call him over to taste a crackling first. Who knew this clueless little thing wouldn't even stay put with good food right in front of him?
The moment Grandmother's words landed, Bai Chao's voice came from behind the kitchen, and Grandmother realized the little thing had gone to wash his hands. "Such fussy ways. You only held the fire tongs to put out the fire—how did that get them dirty? Those iron tongs are perfectly clean."
Grandmother guessed right—Bai Chao really had gone to wash his hands. When he came back, he was still shaking the water droplets off, flipping his palms back and forth to dry them faster, wiping both his palm and the back of his hand on his face.
"Little silly boy, open up." The pork cracklings had just come out of the pot and were still hot, but the piece in Grandmother's hand was one she'd picked out early—a piece with a bit of lean meat attached, which tasted more fragrant than pure fat. She'd picked it up with her chopsticks long ago so it would cool faster and not burn the child.
The crackling hit the mouth with a burst of meaty fragrance first, and as it was slowly chewed to pieces, the last bit of oil in its center gradually spread through the whole mouth—by then, it was pure savory richness all over.
The crackling in Bai Chao's mouth had some lean meat, lacking in oil but full of crispy fragrance. He nodded as he chewed, and soon his Adam's apple bobbed as the food went down.
"Delicious," Bai Chao said with a satisfied nod.
At this point, Grandmother took out the salt jar. Without using a spoon, she simply pinched a bit of salt between her fingers and sprinkled the grains evenly over the bowl of cracklings.
"Try it now—it's even better." She nudged the bowl of cracklings toward him, signaling Bai Chao to pick a piece himself.
Bai Chao grinned, giving Grandmother a squinty-eyed smile, then opened one palm and began picking out the cracklings that caught his eye, placing them in his palm.
Grandmother watched as several pieces piled up in the little one's hand and was just about to scold him when Bai Chao closed his hand and ran outside, calling as he went, "Mother, Grandfather, such fragrant cracklings!"
At that shout, Grandmother understood—the little silly boy was taking them out for the two outside. The disapproval and displeasure on her face vanished, and she couldn't help smiling.
In this household, whatever food there was went on the table to be shared together—no one got to taste it first while it was still at the stove. She'd forgotten that the little silly boy was the kind of child who would share even a few wild berries with others.
After going out, Bai Chao didn't shove the food straight into anyone's mouth. Instead, he first spread open his hand, holding it up to their noses for a sniff, and asked if it smelled good. Only after getting the answer "yes, fragrant" would he gleefully hold the cracklings up to their lips.
Having fed his Mother, it was the same with Grandfather. Hearing the question "Doesn't it smell good?", Grandfather glared at him and said, "Am I a little dog you're feeding, that I have to bark for you before I get any?"
"Grandfather isn't a little dog," Bai Chao replied quite seriously, looking for all the world like he thought Grandfather was the fool, which made Grandfather glare at him again. But he still took the crackling offered to him. "Grandfather is Grandfather, not a little dog."
Besides, he'd feed him even without a "woof woof"—though unfortunately, there was no little dog at home.
Having fed Mother and Grandfather, one piece of crackling remained in Bai Chao's palm. He tossed it into his own mouth. The salted crackling, compared to the pure oily richness from before, had an added savory saltiness—even better tasting.
A single crackling didn't take much chewing, and it was down his throat in no time. With the cracklings in his hand gone, Bai Chao went back in to tend the fire for Grandmother—but by now, she had no need of him.
"You don't need to watch the fire. Go out and sit beside your mother and learn a thing or two—these will all be your chores from now on." Ever since Grandmother discovered that Bai Chao was quite good with needlework, most of her worries had melted away.
They would all grow old someday, and there would come a time when they could no longer work. She had been worried that in the future her two grandchildren would have to hire someone to make even a single shoe or sock, but now she no longer worried. Her Chao-ge'er was remarkably capable—he could make things himself.
Bai Chao was obedient too. When told to go out, he went out, plopping himself down beside Luo's Mother. But he didn't spare a single glance at the work in her hands; his eyes were fixed on the mist-shrouded mountains in the distance and the rain falling steadily before him.
Feeling the weight against her arm and shoulder growing heavier, Luo's Mother quickly called out to him, "Chao-ge'er, don't fall asleep. Dinner's almost ready. Eat your fill first, then you can have a good long sleep, and you'll be better by morning."
"Mm, not sleeping." Bai Chao blinked hard, even tugging his long, straight lashes upward to pull his eyelids open. Once his eyes were forced wide—stinging a little from the pulling—he was truly awake again.
When Luo's Mother and the others had come home that day, Luo's Grandmother had already decided what to make for dinner.
Early that morning she had soaked several handfuls of salted vegetables. Once soaked and drained, there was quite a bit of them. Salted vegetables soak up oil like nothing else, so stir-frying them in the iron wok still glistening with the oil from rendered pork cracklings was just right. Toss in a big spatulaful of half-soft minced pork and fry it all together, and it was guaranteed to be rich and flavorful—perfect with rice.
This dish counted as a meat dish, and with the bowl of pork cracklings, that made two. Grandmother also stir-fried a big plate of baby bok choy, and that was enough. The bok choy had been sown from seed along the edge of the courtyard some days ago and was tender and fresh now—delicious even simply stir-fried.
With these three dishes, plus a steamer full of pure white flour buns with no mixed grain at all, dinner was already more than good enough. But Bai Chao ate even better.
Amid the steamer of buns, Grandmother had steamed a separate bowl of white rice just for him, and mixed it with lard rendered fresh today to make lard-tossed rice.
By the time the family sat down at the table, it was already fairly late, and with the gloomy weather, the kitchen was rather dim. Even so, Grandfather wouldn't allow the oil lamp to be lit.
"It's not like we're completely blind. Just make do and eat."
No one argued with Grandfather. There weren't many dishes on the table anyway, and setting aside the dim light, even if they were groping around blind they could still eat just fine—the chopsticks would find their way to their mouths sooner or later.
Bai Chao was quiet throughout the meal. Grandmother and the others assumed he was too busy enjoying his delicious lard-tossed rice to talk, but after the meal he said he was sleepy and wanted to go to bed. Luo's Mother sensed something was wrong, pulled him over, and felt his forehead. One touch and she was alarmed.
"Father, this is bad—Chao-ge'er's forehead feels hot!"
Luo's Mother had raised children before. Even though Luo Yang had never been seriously ill as a child, she had plenty of experience at her age. She knew that a fever wasn't over just because it broke—these fevers could relapse, burning up one moment and coming down the next. It was truly the most frightening kind of illness.
Bai Chao had a fever again. Even though it wasn't as bad as yesterday's, the whole family was terribly anxious. Just as Luo's Mother decided that she would take him to the county town tomorrow to get several proper doses of medicine, Luo's Grandmother let out an "Aiyah" and slapped the table as if she had thought of something.
She had remembered a folk remedy for treating the little fool's illness!
Grandmother had Luo's Mother light the lamp while she hurried to fetch an egg, then took out an empty bowl and told Grandfather to go pour some liquor.
At the mention of his liquor again, Grandfather winced at the thought, but seeing the large spoon Grandmother had taken out along with the egg, he knew what she was planning and could only go reluctantly.
What Grandmother was making was a folk remedy for chills. She cracked the egg into the spoon with some white liquor, added a bit of sugar, then buried the spoon in the zi-mu ash—the hot stove ashes mixed with a few live embers—letting that gentle heat slowly cook the egg in the spoon.
This method was terribly wasteful. It required an egg, sugar, and high-proof good liquor. Ordinary families might know the remedy but couldn't bear the expense, and even if they could bear it, they might not have these things at home—at most an egg.
After about a quarter of an hour, a spoon covered in stove soot was set before Bai Chao. Fortunately, Mother reacted quickly, pouring the contents into the bowl, so he didn't have to eat soot.
As he held the bowl, Bai Chao looked disdainful, since some soot had still gotten into the spoon. But once the food entered his mouth, the disdain on his face slowly faded, and then his eyebrows lifted and his eyes lit up.
"Delicious! So delicious!"
Because there was liquor in it, Bai Chao had feared it would taste bad, but the egg was fragrant and sweet without any harsh, biting taste of alcohol. It really was delicious.
Bai Chao sped up his eating, and Mother and Grandmother beside him felt much relieved. Only Grandfather thought to himself—of course it's good, it's all good stuff.
After eating the egg cooked in white liquor, Bai Chao fussed about wanting to clean his teeth. Grandmother handed him a willow twig. He was rather disdainful of it, but there was no tooth powder or little cleaning brush at home, so it would have to do.
That night, Luo's Mother once again slept beside Bai Chao. Tonight, unlike last night, Bai Chao seemed somewhat sensitive to the cold. He burrowed into Luo's Mother's arms and hugged her, soon growing drowsy. But just before drifting off, he suddenly murmured, "Mother, when is Big Guy coming back?"
Today, he had eaten so many delicious things—sweet cakes and sweet drinks, minced meat and crispy pork fat—and he'd even gotten pretty flowers.
But Father and Big Guy were still out there. Had they been caught in the rain today? Had they gotten any rest? Had they gotten to eat anything good?