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Blooming Life and Animated Family——Guozhengzong
对于我家乡的美食，我常常怀有一种至深的忧伤：我会不会在某一天发现，我将永远都吃不到了？毕竟那些味道无与伦比的食物，制作程序如此繁复，制作方式如此传统，原材料如此地原生态。
其中之一就是裹蒸粽。大约你一定是吃过粽子的，并且也一定赞叹过某一种粽子真好吃。而我的执念是：没有吃过裹蒸粽的，便不算是吃过粽子。或者吃过裹蒸粽以后，别的便不算是粽子了。中国网络还兴起过一阵“粽子甜咸党之争”——到底粽子应该是咸的还是甜的，南北方人民各执一词，吵得热闹非凡。我的立场就简单得多：裹蒸粽以外的粽子，都是异端。
还记得我在外省求学的时候，端午节发现学校食堂有粽子卖，果断买了，迫不及待拆开就吃，咬下第一口后那种失望到近乎愤怒的心情：“这为什么叫粽子？为什么要把粽子做成这个样子？”但看一下同学们，他们表示：“这就是粽子啊。”我便很希望所有人都有机会吃到我家乡的裹蒸粽。
我的家乡在广东肇庆，珠江三角洲西隅，一个群山连绵绿水环绕的城市。在我的印象中，其处处是宋代的城墙，青石板的古街巷，斑驳残旧的宗祠，漫山花丛里唱山歌，总是慢吞吞的，总是不洋气。大约也只有这样的城市，才会集一家大小之热闹与期待，从腊月忙碌到年关，只为出一锅清香四溢的粽子吧。
肇庆的密林与水边爱长柊叶，清香嫩绿、宽大柔韧、经冬不凋，且清热解毒、活血化瘀。南粤湿热，聪明的南粤人发现，以柊叶藏物，经久不腐。这显然也是用来包裹粽子的不二佳选了。一入腊月，各家各户的妇人便会陆陆续续去往熟悉的地方采摘柊叶与水草。柊叶采回后，放置在家里阴凉的地方，会觉满目清香，虽在冬日，却是春意盎然。待到年二十六的样子，一大早起来，便把柊叶与水草放在水里煮至滚烫，如此可把它们的柔韧性发挥到最大，而且如此一煮，生叶子的“臭青”尽除，唯留清香，颜色则由碧绿变成暖暖的深绿。此时再用冷水沿着柊叶的脉络细细地清洗，将尘土去尽。此时，全家上下已然投入了“包粽子”的氛围里：有的要负责把糯米淘洗干净，这个务必是要淘得越干净越好，因为粽子出炉以后是可以吃一个月的，唯有很干净的柊叶与糯米，方能做如此长久的保存。淘好以后拌以些许盐，放置在笊篱里把水沥掉。有的（比如我）要负责把绿豆泡软，再放到石磨上去皮，那可真是个体力活呢！为大家那口软糯绵滑的绿豆蓉，我真是劳苦功高啊！有的则负责把五花肉切成三指见方，再用盐与胡椒粉或五香粉拌匀，此事在我家，非厨艺高手妈妈不可为，因为调料之是否恰到好处，直接能决定你家的粽子是否是极品。
此时大约已经到了正午，也可算得万事俱备了，便全家围着食材坐下，要开始包粽子了：三张柊叶铺底，一勺糯米铺平，再一勺绿豆，三五块五花肉，再一勺绿豆，一勺糯米，然后盖上一张柊叶封顶，沿边角把食材包裹起来，再以水草缠绕绑扎固定，一个十厘米见方的粽子便算包好。整道工序下来，耗时甚多，且齐心协力做一次粽子，总得够一个春节用的，所以待到全部包好，差不多就是傍晚了。一家团圆，说说笑笑，闲适与天伦，还有对出炉粽子的想象，时间倒是过得飞快。途中还要差出一个人去准备简单的午饭和晚饭。尤为重要的，在即将完工的时候，我们便会用一个极大的铁锅装上水，生起猛火，以滚烫的水等待着包好的粽子。
夜幕降临，锅里的水已经沸腾，便把粽子一个一个放进锅里。此时便是最为美妙的围炉守候的时光。若在平日，小孩子们早早便被赶去睡觉，万籁俱寂。唯有两个日子，孩子们是可以名正言顺地熬夜的，一个是年三十守岁，一个便是煮粽子的夜里。虽然未至半夜，我们必将东倒西歪地睡去，但那真是欢腾的时光啊。我们都搬个小凳子坐在厨房里，柴火在炉灶里，噼里啪啦地响着，熊熊不熄，红色的火光映在每一个人的脸上，跳跃着的，弥漫着的温暖。我们当然还要往火里放上几个红薯烤著，烤好了，抢着吃，好生热闹。我的爸爸则喜欢泡一壶茉莉花茶，放在灶基上，因着炉火的燃烧，那茶总是热的。锅里的粽子其实早就开始飘出香味，萦绕在厨房里，烤红薯的香味更是霸道得近乎侵掠，茉莉花茶的香在此间简直有超凡脱俗的意味。后来，锅里的粽子到底怎么样了呢？不知道啊，因为我们不知道什么时候都已经进入梦乡里了，四下静谧，仿佛什么都没有发生过。待到晨曦微露，听得妈妈喊：“来吃早餐咯！刚起锅的粽子哦！”便赶紧起来，重新围到锅炉旁。真的呀，粽子已经煮好了！经了一夜的猛火，粽子真的水灵灵地出炉了！在柊叶水草严实的包裹下，粽子的形状没有丝毫变化，我们不知道里面的食材到底经历了什么，但打开来，那爆炸开来的香气真能把清晨的胃都叫醒。柊叶给糯米染上一层淡淡的绿色，自然也染上了淡淡的清香，绿豆已经没有了形状，交融在糯米里，五花肉的油脂渗透在糯米与绿豆里，再沾染至柊叶，而柊叶的清香又把它的肥腻消解到几乎没有，只留给它润滑与软糯。绿豆吸收了五花肉的汁油，粘合在糯米里，尚有胡椒粉散发在整个粽子里，似乎没有，却无处不在的辛香，伴着腾腾热气，真是清益扑鼻，入口松化，爽滑甘香。一家人围着，共享我们经了一天一夜努力与期待做出来的粽子，天底下哪里有比得过的美味呢。
这么齐心协力做出来的美食自然不能独享。到得年初二，要开始相互拜年了，各自便拎着自家的粽子与人分享：“粽子谁家都有，我家的，您试试！”虽说基本的食材与做法大致一样，但每一家总有其无价的秘方以行走江湖。或是加了某种食材？某种调料？某个步骤另有婉曲？不能说！秘方！总之每一家的，确实总是有点不一样的啊。若说天下第一么，在我，当然是我家里出品的啊。
时光流逝，慢慢地，我心目中的山城肇庆其实早就变成国际化的都市了。柴火变成了不合时宜的东西，我们在商店里随时都可以买到去了皮的绿豆，那么大的锅也不适合安装在大城市里的千家万户，柊叶与水草在山水里倒似乎越长越茂盛了，但年轻一辈的人却总是找不到时间去采摘。而且，在饭店里买一个现成的粽子是一件多么容易的事呢，虽然它达不到那种极致的味道，但终归你只是想吃一个粽子而已啊。 可是我好想念那些我和家人一起手作的粽子啊！想念那些勞作与等待，想念那些沸腾与芳香。由裹蒸粽，我总是毫无道理却顺理成章地想到两个词：繁花似锦，热闹非凡。
When thinking about gas-tronomic delights in myhometown， I am alwayscontrarily weighed downwith a deep sorrow as I could not helpbut wonder what if I could not getany bite of them one day. After all，they are made out of local ingredientsand cooked through a complex proc-ess yet in simple ways.
One of these delicacies isGuozhengzong， also known as stickyrice dumplings （made of glutinousrice stufFed with different fillings andwrapped in bamboo leaves）. I bet youmust have eaten Zongzi and marveledat the good flavor of its certainkind， while that does not countunless you have tasted Guozheng-zong. There was even a hot debateon the Internet between Zongzieaters in north and south China.They argued on whether Zongzishould be salty or sweet， whilemy standpoint is much clear-Guozhengzong is one of a kind.
I remember when I was study-ing in another province， I foundthe canteen on out campus wasselling Zongzi. I bought onewithout hesitation and ate it inhaste. After the first bite， I wascompletely disappointed and evenbecame exasperated， "How couldthis thing be called Zongzi？ Whydo they make Zongzi in this way？"However， my classmates said， "It isZongzi indeed." I really hope thateveryone can come to my home-town to taste Guozhengzong.
I come from Zhaoqing， a citysurrounded by mountains and wa-ters in Guangdong province， theeastern corner of Pearl River Delta.Roaming in Zhaoqing， you couldalways find city walls from theSong Dynasty （960-1279）， ancientalleys lined with cyan slab stones，ruined ancestral halls， and peo-ple singing folk songs in flowers.Zhaoqing is a city of ease whilelacking the touches of modernlife， but it is such city that wouldbother to bustle from the begin-ning of the twelfth lunar month tothe very end of the lunar year onlyto make a pot of fresh Guozheng-zong amid expectations of the oldand the young in the family. Zhaoqing is also home toPhrynium which usually growsin jungle and beside water. Theirwide and pliable leaves in soft lightgreen have natural fragrance andare able to stand through winter.Besides， these leaves could relieveinternal heat and promote bloodcirculation in human body. Foodwrapped in Phrynium leaves couldbe kept though south Guangdongis hot and humid. Clever localsalready found that and used theseleaves to make Zongzi. Uponthe arrival of the twelfth lunarmonth， women of all householdswould go to pick Phryniumleaves and aquatic plants intheir familiar places. Afterthe harvest， they would placePhrynium leaves in a cool placein their house where it feels likespring with the leaves' delicatesmell wafting through the roomalthough it was in winter. Astime marched to the 26th dayin the twelfth lunar month，people in my hometown wouldget up early in the morning， putPhrynium leaves and aquaticplants in the water， and boilthem to maximize their pliabil-ity. After the boiling， the stinkof the leaves would be removed，leaving only the fragrance， andthe leaves' color will turn fromverdant to dark green. Afterthen， Phrynium leaves would berinsed in cold water to clear dusthidden along their veins. At thistime， the whole family had alreadygot busy preparing for makingZongzi. Some washed glutinousrice. Cleaner rice makes betterZongzi that can be eaten withina month. Only with clean leavesand glutinous rice can Zongzi bepreserved for such a long time.After the washing， someone wouldput salt in rice and place them in aspider to drain water; others likeme would soak mung beans inwater， and then put them on thestone mill to remove peel， whichwas so energy-consuming！ Foreveryone to taste soft mung beans，I had really taken great efforts thatdeserve praises. Still others wouldcut streaky pork into tiny pieces，and then mix it with salt and pep-per or five-spice powder. My mom，a cooking master， took on this job asthe seasoning can directly determinewhether the Zongzi in your home arethe top-class ones. When it was about noon， we hadeverything we need to make Zongzi.The whole family would sit aroundingredients and started to pack Zongzi.We placed three Phrynium leaves inhand， then put on the following in-gredients one by one-one spoonfulof glutinous rice， another spoonfulof mung beans， three or five piecesof streaky pork， and then anotherspoonful of mung beans， a spoonfulof glutinous rice， and then coveredwith a Phrynium leaf. We wrapped upingredients along the edges ofleaves，and then tied up with aquatic plants.Finally， a ten-square-centimeter Zongziwas finished. Though the process wastime-consuming， Zongzi made withthe efforts of the whole family wereenough for us to eat during the SpringFestival. It was almost evening whenwe finished. Time flies when all fam-ily members sat together， talked andlaughed while waiting for Zongzi comeout. Someone in my family wouldprepare simple lunch and dinner whenwe were waiting. What was especiallyimportant is that when we were aboutto complete， we would use a huge ironpot filled with water， make a fire， andwait to throw the wrapped Zongzi inboiling water.
As night fell， water in the pot hadalready been boiled， and we wouldput Zongzi into the pot one by one.It was the best time of a day when wewaited around the pot. In ordinarydays， children are usually chased awayto sleep， leaving everything in silence.For only two days， children can stay upall night right and proper. One is theLunar New Year's Eve， and the otheris the night of cooking Zongzi. It wasreally a happy time even though wecould never make it till midnight with-out falling asleep. We all sat on a smallchair in the kitchen watching firewoodburning under the stove and hearingits crackling sound. Everyone's facewas lit up by red flames with warmthfilling the kitchen. For sure， we wouldput a few sweet potatoes in the cook-ing range， making a boisterous scene toscramble when they were roasted. Mydad liked to make a cup ofjasmine teaand put it on the stove base. The teawas always hot as it was warmed by thestove. At the same time， the kitchenwas heavy with the smell of freshlycooked Zongzi， The mix of strikingaroma of roasted sweet potatoes andotherwo rldly fragrance of j asmine teaalso spread in the kitchen. What hap-pened to Zongzi in the pot？ I don'tknow， because we had already gone tosleep. Stillness enveloped the kitchenas if nothing had happened. Untilthe morning dawn， I heard my momshout， "Come for breakfast！ Just pickZongzi from the pot！" Then we hurriedto the kitchen to find cooked Zongzihad already been waiting for us after anight of boiling！ Under the tight wrap-ping of Phrynium leaves， the shapeof Zongzi had not changed at all. Themoment we opened Zongzi， our morn-ing appetite was woken up by its sheeraroma. The glutinous rice was lightlyscented and dyed with faint greenby Phrynium leaves. Shapeless mungbeans had already blended in glutinousrice. The fat of streaky pork drippedthrough glutinous rice and mungbeans to Phrynium leaves thatgradually absorbed the greasy smelltill there was only smoothness andsoftness. The mung beans soakedin juice ofstreaky pork stuck tothe steaming glutinous rice thatgave off the smell of spice pepper.Nothing could be compared withthese refreshing， soft and deliciousZongzi as our family spent one dayand one night to make them. The food made with such con-certed efforts cannot be enjoyedalone. On the second day of theLunar New Year， we would beginto visit each other. Every familywould share their Zongzi with oth-ers， "We all make Zongzi， but youmust try this one from my family！"Although basic ingredients andcooking methods were roughlythe same， each family had itsown Zongzi recipe such as add-ing some kind of ingredients orseasoning. Was there somethingspecial about a certain step？ Wecannot tell！ Secret recipe！ Inshort， Zongzi of every familyvaried. If there should be a No.1in the world， for me， of course，it would be those made in myhome.
Time passes when we don'teven notice. Now， Zhaoqing， themountain city in my memoryhas already become an inter-national city. People don't usefirewood anymore， and peeledmung beans can be bought atany time in the store. Large potswe used in the past are not suita-ble for urban households. ThoughPhrynium leaves and aquaticplants seem to grow luxuriant inmountains and beside waters， theyounger generation always fails tospare time to pick them. Moreo-ver， how easy it is to buy a ready-made Zongzi in a restaurant.Although it does not have theultimate taste， you just want toeat a Zongzi after all.
But I really miss the ZongziI made with my family！ I missthe time we worked together andwaited for Zongzi to be cooked，I miss the boiling water and thefragrance back then. Two phrasesnaturally come to my mind whenI think of Guozhengzong in myhometown-flowering life andanimated family.
对于我家乡的美食，我常常怀有一种至深的忧伤：我会不会在某一天发现，我将永远都吃不到了？毕竟那些味道无与伦比的食物，制作程序如此繁复，制作方式如此传统，原材料如此地原生态。
其中之一就是裹蒸粽。大约你一定是吃过粽子的，并且也一定赞叹过某一种粽子真好吃。而我的执念是：没有吃过裹蒸粽的，便不算是吃过粽子。或者吃过裹蒸粽以后，别的便不算是粽子了。中国网络还兴起过一阵“粽子甜咸党之争”——到底粽子应该是咸的还是甜的，南北方人民各执一词，吵得热闹非凡。我的立场就简单得多：裹蒸粽以外的粽子，都是异端。
还记得我在外省求学的时候，端午节发现学校食堂有粽子卖，果断买了，迫不及待拆开就吃，咬下第一口后那种失望到近乎愤怒的心情：“这为什么叫粽子？为什么要把粽子做成这个样子？”但看一下同学们，他们表示：“这就是粽子啊。”我便很希望所有人都有机会吃到我家乡的裹蒸粽。
我的家乡在广东肇庆，珠江三角洲西隅，一个群山连绵绿水环绕的城市。在我的印象中，其处处是宋代的城墙，青石板的古街巷，斑驳残旧的宗祠，漫山花丛里唱山歌，总是慢吞吞的，总是不洋气。大约也只有这样的城市，才会集一家大小之热闹与期待，从腊月忙碌到年关，只为出一锅清香四溢的粽子吧。
肇庆的密林与水边爱长柊叶，清香嫩绿、宽大柔韧、经冬不凋，且清热解毒、活血化瘀。南粤湿热，聪明的南粤人发现，以柊叶藏物，经久不腐。这显然也是用来包裹粽子的不二佳选了。一入腊月，各家各户的妇人便会陆陆续续去往熟悉的地方采摘柊叶与水草。柊叶采回后，放置在家里阴凉的地方，会觉满目清香，虽在冬日，却是春意盎然。待到年二十六的样子，一大早起来，便把柊叶与水草放在水里煮至滚烫，如此可把它们的柔韧性发挥到最大，而且如此一煮，生叶子的“臭青”尽除，唯留清香，颜色则由碧绿变成暖暖的深绿。此时再用冷水沿着柊叶的脉络细细地清洗，将尘土去尽。此时，全家上下已然投入了“包粽子”的氛围里：有的要负责把糯米淘洗干净，这个务必是要淘得越干净越好，因为粽子出炉以后是可以吃一个月的，唯有很干净的柊叶与糯米，方能做如此长久的保存。淘好以后拌以些许盐，放置在笊篱里把水沥掉。有的（比如我）要负责把绿豆泡软，再放到石磨上去皮，那可真是个体力活呢！为大家那口软糯绵滑的绿豆蓉，我真是劳苦功高啊！有的则负责把五花肉切成三指见方，再用盐与胡椒粉或五香粉拌匀，此事在我家，非厨艺高手妈妈不可为，因为调料之是否恰到好处，直接能决定你家的粽子是否是极品。
此时大约已经到了正午，也可算得万事俱备了，便全家围着食材坐下，要开始包粽子了：三张柊叶铺底，一勺糯米铺平，再一勺绿豆，三五块五花肉，再一勺绿豆，一勺糯米，然后盖上一张柊叶封顶，沿边角把食材包裹起来，再以水草缠绕绑扎固定，一个十厘米见方的粽子便算包好。整道工序下来，耗时甚多，且齐心协力做一次粽子，总得够一个春节用的，所以待到全部包好，差不多就是傍晚了。一家团圆，说说笑笑，闲适与天伦，还有对出炉粽子的想象，时间倒是过得飞快。途中还要差出一个人去准备简单的午饭和晚饭。尤为重要的，在即将完工的时候，我们便会用一个极大的铁锅装上水，生起猛火，以滚烫的水等待着包好的粽子。
夜幕降临，锅里的水已经沸腾，便把粽子一个一个放进锅里。此时便是最为美妙的围炉守候的时光。若在平日，小孩子们早早便被赶去睡觉，万籁俱寂。唯有两个日子，孩子们是可以名正言顺地熬夜的，一个是年三十守岁，一个便是煮粽子的夜里。虽然未至半夜，我们必将东倒西歪地睡去，但那真是欢腾的时光啊。我们都搬个小凳子坐在厨房里，柴火在炉灶里，噼里啪啦地响着，熊熊不熄，红色的火光映在每一个人的脸上，跳跃着的，弥漫着的温暖。我们当然还要往火里放上几个红薯烤著，烤好了，抢着吃，好生热闹。我的爸爸则喜欢泡一壶茉莉花茶，放在灶基上，因着炉火的燃烧，那茶总是热的。锅里的粽子其实早就开始飘出香味，萦绕在厨房里，烤红薯的香味更是霸道得近乎侵掠，茉莉花茶的香在此间简直有超凡脱俗的意味。后来，锅里的粽子到底怎么样了呢？不知道啊，因为我们不知道什么时候都已经进入梦乡里了，四下静谧，仿佛什么都没有发生过。待到晨曦微露，听得妈妈喊：“来吃早餐咯！刚起锅的粽子哦！”便赶紧起来，重新围到锅炉旁。真的呀，粽子已经煮好了！经了一夜的猛火，粽子真的水灵灵地出炉了！在柊叶水草严实的包裹下，粽子的形状没有丝毫变化，我们不知道里面的食材到底经历了什么，但打开来，那爆炸开来的香气真能把清晨的胃都叫醒。柊叶给糯米染上一层淡淡的绿色，自然也染上了淡淡的清香，绿豆已经没有了形状，交融在糯米里，五花肉的油脂渗透在糯米与绿豆里，再沾染至柊叶，而柊叶的清香又把它的肥腻消解到几乎没有，只留给它润滑与软糯。绿豆吸收了五花肉的汁油，粘合在糯米里，尚有胡椒粉散发在整个粽子里，似乎没有，却无处不在的辛香，伴着腾腾热气，真是清益扑鼻，入口松化，爽滑甘香。一家人围着，共享我们经了一天一夜努力与期待做出来的粽子，天底下哪里有比得过的美味呢。
这么齐心协力做出来的美食自然不能独享。到得年初二，要开始相互拜年了，各自便拎着自家的粽子与人分享：“粽子谁家都有，我家的，您试试！”虽说基本的食材与做法大致一样，但每一家总有其无价的秘方以行走江湖。或是加了某种食材？某种调料？某个步骤另有婉曲？不能说！秘方！总之每一家的，确实总是有点不一样的啊。若说天下第一么，在我，当然是我家里出品的啊。
时光流逝，慢慢地，我心目中的山城肇庆其实早就变成国际化的都市了。柴火变成了不合时宜的东西，我们在商店里随时都可以买到去了皮的绿豆，那么大的锅也不适合安装在大城市里的千家万户，柊叶与水草在山水里倒似乎越长越茂盛了，但年轻一辈的人却总是找不到时间去采摘。而且，在饭店里买一个现成的粽子是一件多么容易的事呢，虽然它达不到那种极致的味道，但终归你只是想吃一个粽子而已啊。 可是我好想念那些我和家人一起手作的粽子啊！想念那些勞作与等待，想念那些沸腾与芳香。由裹蒸粽，我总是毫无道理却顺理成章地想到两个词：繁花似锦，热闹非凡。
When thinking about gas-tronomic delights in myhometown， I am alwayscontrarily weighed downwith a deep sorrow as I could not helpbut wonder what if I could not getany bite of them one day. After all，they are made out of local ingredientsand cooked through a complex proc-ess yet in simple ways.
One of these delicacies isGuozhengzong， also known as stickyrice dumplings （made of glutinousrice stufFed with different fillings andwrapped in bamboo leaves）. I bet youmust have eaten Zongzi and marveledat the good flavor of its certainkind， while that does not countunless you have tasted Guozheng-zong. There was even a hot debateon the Internet between Zongzieaters in north and south China.They argued on whether Zongzishould be salty or sweet， whilemy standpoint is much clear-Guozhengzong is one of a kind.
I remember when I was study-ing in another province， I foundthe canteen on out campus wasselling Zongzi. I bought onewithout hesitation and ate it inhaste. After the first bite， I wascompletely disappointed and evenbecame exasperated， "How couldthis thing be called Zongzi？ Whydo they make Zongzi in this way？"However， my classmates said， "It isZongzi indeed." I really hope thateveryone can come to my home-town to taste Guozhengzong.
I come from Zhaoqing， a citysurrounded by mountains and wa-ters in Guangdong province， theeastern corner of Pearl River Delta.Roaming in Zhaoqing， you couldalways find city walls from theSong Dynasty （960-1279）， ancientalleys lined with cyan slab stones，ruined ancestral halls， and peo-ple singing folk songs in flowers.Zhaoqing is a city of ease whilelacking the touches of modernlife， but it is such city that wouldbother to bustle from the begin-ning of the twelfth lunar month tothe very end of the lunar year onlyto make a pot of fresh Guozheng-zong amid expectations of the oldand the young in the family. Zhaoqing is also home toPhrynium which usually growsin jungle and beside water. Theirwide and pliable leaves in soft lightgreen have natural fragrance andare able to stand through winter.Besides， these leaves could relieveinternal heat and promote bloodcirculation in human body. Foodwrapped in Phrynium leaves couldbe kept though south Guangdongis hot and humid. Clever localsalready found that and used theseleaves to make Zongzi. Uponthe arrival of the twelfth lunarmonth， women of all householdswould go to pick Phryniumleaves and aquatic plants intheir familiar places. Afterthe harvest， they would placePhrynium leaves in a cool placein their house where it feels likespring with the leaves' delicatesmell wafting through the roomalthough it was in winter. Astime marched to the 26th dayin the twelfth lunar month，people in my hometown wouldget up early in the morning， putPhrynium leaves and aquaticplants in the water， and boilthem to maximize their pliabil-ity. After the boiling， the stinkof the leaves would be removed，leaving only the fragrance， andthe leaves' color will turn fromverdant to dark green. Afterthen， Phrynium leaves would berinsed in cold water to clear dusthidden along their veins. At thistime， the whole family had alreadygot busy preparing for makingZongzi. Some washed glutinousrice. Cleaner rice makes betterZongzi that can be eaten withina month. Only with clean leavesand glutinous rice can Zongzi bepreserved for such a long time.After the washing， someone wouldput salt in rice and place them in aspider to drain water; others likeme would soak mung beans inwater， and then put them on thestone mill to remove peel， whichwas so energy-consuming！ Foreveryone to taste soft mung beans，I had really taken great efforts thatdeserve praises. Still others wouldcut streaky pork into tiny pieces，and then mix it with salt and pep-per or five-spice powder. My mom，a cooking master， took on this job asthe seasoning can directly determinewhether the Zongzi in your home arethe top-class ones. When it was about noon， we hadeverything we need to make Zongzi.The whole family would sit aroundingredients and started to pack Zongzi.We placed three Phrynium leaves inhand， then put on the following in-gredients one by one-one spoonfulof glutinous rice， another spoonfulof mung beans， three or five piecesof streaky pork， and then anotherspoonful of mung beans， a spoonfulof glutinous rice， and then coveredwith a Phrynium leaf. We wrapped upingredients along the edges ofleaves，and then tied up with aquatic plants.Finally， a ten-square-centimeter Zongziwas finished. Though the process wastime-consuming， Zongzi made withthe efforts of the whole family wereenough for us to eat during the SpringFestival. It was almost evening whenwe finished. Time flies when all fam-ily members sat together， talked andlaughed while waiting for Zongzi comeout. Someone in my family wouldprepare simple lunch and dinner whenwe were waiting. What was especiallyimportant is that when we were aboutto complete， we would use a huge ironpot filled with water， make a fire， andwait to throw the wrapped Zongzi inboiling water.
As night fell， water in the pot hadalready been boiled， and we wouldput Zongzi into the pot one by one.It was the best time of a day when wewaited around the pot. In ordinarydays， children are usually chased awayto sleep， leaving everything in silence.For only two days， children can stay upall night right and proper. One is theLunar New Year's Eve， and the otheris the night of cooking Zongzi. It wasreally a happy time even though wecould never make it till midnight with-out falling asleep. We all sat on a smallchair in the kitchen watching firewoodburning under the stove and hearingits crackling sound. Everyone's facewas lit up by red flames with warmthfilling the kitchen. For sure， we wouldput a few sweet potatoes in the cook-ing range， making a boisterous scene toscramble when they were roasted. Mydad liked to make a cup ofjasmine teaand put it on the stove base. The teawas always hot as it was warmed by thestove. At the same time， the kitchenwas heavy with the smell of freshlycooked Zongzi， The mix of strikingaroma of roasted sweet potatoes andotherwo rldly fragrance of j asmine teaalso spread in the kitchen. What hap-pened to Zongzi in the pot？ I don'tknow， because we had already gone tosleep. Stillness enveloped the kitchenas if nothing had happened. Untilthe morning dawn， I heard my momshout， "Come for breakfast！ Just pickZongzi from the pot！" Then we hurriedto the kitchen to find cooked Zongzihad already been waiting for us after anight of boiling！ Under the tight wrap-ping of Phrynium leaves， the shapeof Zongzi had not changed at all. Themoment we opened Zongzi， our morn-ing appetite was woken up by its sheeraroma. The glutinous rice was lightlyscented and dyed with faint greenby Phrynium leaves. Shapeless mungbeans had already blended in glutinousrice. The fat of streaky pork drippedthrough glutinous rice and mungbeans to Phrynium leaves thatgradually absorbed the greasy smelltill there was only smoothness andsoftness. The mung beans soakedin juice ofstreaky pork stuck tothe steaming glutinous rice thatgave off the smell of spice pepper.Nothing could be compared withthese refreshing， soft and deliciousZongzi as our family spent one dayand one night to make them. The food made with such con-certed efforts cannot be enjoyedalone. On the second day of theLunar New Year， we would beginto visit each other. Every familywould share their Zongzi with oth-ers， "We all make Zongzi， but youmust try this one from my family！"Although basic ingredients andcooking methods were roughlythe same， each family had itsown Zongzi recipe such as add-ing some kind of ingredients orseasoning. Was there somethingspecial about a certain step？ Wecannot tell！ Secret recipe！ Inshort， Zongzi of every familyvaried. If there should be a No.1in the world， for me， of course，it would be those made in myhome.
Time passes when we don'teven notice. Now， Zhaoqing， themountain city in my memoryhas already become an inter-national city. People don't usefirewood anymore， and peeledmung beans can be bought atany time in the store. Large potswe used in the past are not suita-ble for urban households. ThoughPhrynium leaves and aquaticplants seem to grow luxuriant inmountains and beside waters， theyounger generation always fails tospare time to pick them. Moreo-ver， how easy it is to buy a ready-made Zongzi in a restaurant.Although it does not have theultimate taste， you just want toeat a Zongzi after all.
But I really miss the ZongziI made with my family！ I missthe time we worked together andwaited for Zongzi to be cooked，I miss the boiling water and thefragrance back then. Two phrasesnaturally come to my mind whenI think of Guozhengzong in myhometown-flowering life andanimated family.