Although it was already late by the time they returned to the cave, the day’s abundant harvest had put Tang Jiao in an excellent mood. She decided to make something special to reward herself, her husband, and their son.
They had already talked about it on the way back—shepherd’s purse dumplings had been on the menu lately. Since the mood was right, there was no need to wait for another day. Tonight it was!
Without even waiting for Gu Yu to finish building up the fire for lighting, Tang Jiao indulgently took out their large mining lamp and switched it on. Under the bright light, she quickly washed her hands and started preparing the dough.
Though they called it a “mining lamp,” it was really a handheld, high-powered outdoor searchlight they had bought specifically for moving into the mountains. This model was extremely bright with a very long battery life—Tang Jiao had splurged on the top configuration, which could last up to thirty hours. It illuminated a wide area, had four brightness levels, and even came with side lights. Of course, it was much bulkier and heavier than an ordinary flashlight.
That said, it supported fast USB charging, solar charging, and could even double as a power bank for phones. Apart from being expensive, it had no real drawbacks.
Tang Jiao hadn’t used the solar charging function at first and had almost forgotten it existed. When she finally tried it a few days ago, she confirmed that it worked—just incredibly, painfully slowly.
After adjusting the angle of the light, Tang Jiao began kneading the dough. With so few containers available, she mixed it directly in the inner pot of their rice cooker. She made a mental note that they really needed to figure out how to make more containers from other materials when they had time.
Gritting her teeth, she scooped out a generous handful of flour and poured it into the pot, paused to look at it, then reluctantly added another handful. Slowly, she poured in cool water bit by bit, mixing with her hand as she went. Once all the flour turned into shaggy clumps, she braced the pot with one hand and began kneading with the other.
People often say that well-kneaded dough should achieve the “three shines”—shiny hands, shiny dough, and a shiny bowl.
Tang Jiao knew she was nowhere near that level. But as long as the dough came together and wasn’t too soft or too stiff, she considered it a success.
At least she could get it right in one go, without falling into the endless cycle of “too soft, add flour; too hard, add water; too soft again, add more flour”—especially now, when they didn’t have flour to waste.
Once the dough was ready, she covered it to rest and turned her attention to preparing the filling.
Since these were shepherd’s purse dumplings, the greens were naturally the star. Ideally, shepherd’s purse with meat tasted best, but without meat, shepherd’s purse and egg made a delicious filling as well.
While Tang Jiao was kneading the dough, Gu Yu had already started the fire. She asked him and An’an to help pick and wash the shepherd’s purse, while she carried the lamp into the sleeping cave to retrieve two regular eggs left over after separating the fertilized ones, along with two sausages and a bag of dried shrimp.
Back in the main cave, she cracked the eggs into an empty canning jar and beat them quickly, then set a pan on the fire with oil to scramble them.
Since they didn’t have bowls, Tang Jiao had kept the jars from canned food and eight-treasure porridge to use as bowls. In fact, she had deliberately eaten those foods just to get the containers—after all, they had long shelf lives, and she was reluctant to use them up too soon.
Once the eggs were cooked, she chopped them finely in the pan with her spatula and set them aside to cool. Next, she filled a steamer with a little water to blanch the shepherd’s purse later, then moved on to slicing the sausages.
They didn’t have a cutting board either. Gu Yu had found a small, very flat stone slab by the river, washed it thoroughly, and boiled it for a long time to sterilize it. That stone now served as their makeshift chopping board.
Surprisingly, the stone slab worked quite well. That said, they had been leaving early and returning late lately, and with limited ingredients, they didn’t need to use it often. Still, Tang Jiao felt that if they were going to chop vegetables on it regularly in the future, it probably wouldn’t be ideal—it just felt like it would damage the knife.
But for now, it was the only option they had.
She diced the sausages into small pieces, then washed the stone slab again and set it aside to dry so it could be used later for rolling out dumpling wrappers.
By then, the water in the pot was almost boiling. Tang Jiao added a little salt, then put in the shepherd’s purse that Gu Yu had washed. She blanched it briefly and quickly scooped it out—this way the greens wouldn’t turn yellow and stayed a vivid, glossy green.
The blanched greens were rinsed in cold water, squeezed dry, and finely chopped.
Only then did Tang Jiao realize—oh no, she’d washed the cutting surface too early.
By the time the shepherd’s purse was chopped, the scrambled eggs had cooled. She tipped the chopped greens and sausage into the pan, sprinkled in some dried shrimp, added salt, thirteen-spice seasoning, oyster sauce, and mixed everything thoroughly. For extra fragrance, she drizzled in a little cooking oil or sesame oil. The filling was done.
Next came the dumpling wrappers.
She dusted the slab with flour, kneaded the rested dough again until it released air bubbles, rolled it into a long strip, and cut it into small portions. Then it was time to roll out the wrappers.
Of course, they didn’t have a rolling pin—but did that stop food lovers? Absolutely not. No rolling pin? A beer bottle worked just fine. After all, both were cylinders.
So the whole family pitched in: Gu Yu rolled the wrappers, Tang Jiao wrapped the dumplings, and An’an “helped”—which mostly meant causing trouble on the side.
They worked quickly, mainly because Tang Jiao hadn’t made much dough. Flour was scarce, after all.
Eating freely was out of the question. With all three of them eating more than before, Tang Jiao decided to turn the dumplings into a dumpling noodle soup. After cooking the dumplings, she added some dried noodles to the broth, seasoned it with salt and spices, tossed in wild greens and chopped wild scallions, splashed in a little vinegar, and finished with a drizzle of sesame oil.
Honestly, it smelled even better than plain boiled dumplings—and the slightly sour broth was wonderfully appetite-stimulating.
By the time the family had polished off the entire pot of dumpling noodle soup, they were all so full they didn’t want to move.
Only then did An’an suddenly remember—oh no! The pumpkin and chestnuts they had brought back earlier still hadn’t been eaten, and he was already stuffed. What a pity…
Since dinner had been late, Tang Jiao worried An’an might get indigestion and gave him some digestive tablets. She and Gu Yu, meanwhile, decided to work overtime and finish shelling the big sack of spiky chestnut burrs—working while aiding digestion, killing two birds with one stone.
After washing the pot, Gu Yu refilled it with water and set it over the fire to heat, ready for washing their faces and feet.
An’an played with the two little animals for a while, then washed up and went to sleep. By the firelight, Gu Yu and Tang Jiao continued slowly shelling chestnuts together.
Before long, the cave was filled only with the crackling of burning wood and the soft crack of chestnut burrs being pried open. Neither of them spoke. They simply focused on their work, occasionally exchanging a smile—warm yellow firelight reflecting off their faces, creating a scene that felt quietly tender and timeless.