Returning to the 82 Mountain Village: An Encounter with the Journey to the West Film Crew at the Beg

Zhou Fangyuan recognized the leaf immediately; it was a rare spice found in the mountain villages around their area.

It is said that only a few villages have it, and often there are only one or two old trees in a village. It does not flower or bear fruit, and it is difficult to transplant. However, its fragrance is very unique. Adding a little to stewed meat or fish can remove the fishy smell and enhance the aroma, and the taste will be immediately elevated to a higher level.

When I was a child, my mother would only pick one or two leaves when important guests came to our house or during the Chinese New Year.

"Yes, it's fish-fragrant leaf," said Zhou Niang.

"This was propagated from a branch that your great-grandmother's generation got from somewhere, from that old tree on the slope behind our house."

Elsewhere... In all these years I've been married into this family, I've never seen it anywhere else. Adding a little to soups and stir-fries makes a difference in the taste.

The younger sister remembered too: "Ah! It's that fragrant leaf! Last time, when the aunt next door was stewing meat, she wanted to ask us for a leaf, but Mom didn't give us any more than that."

Zhou Fangyuan's eyes lit up instantly! That's right, how could I have forgotten this after being reborn!

This is almost the only treasure in their Qingshi Village, and possibly even in their Zhou family!

"Mom, that's a great idea!"

Zhou Fangyuan was somewhat excited.

"The aroma of this fish-fragrant leaf is unique. If we use it on dried sweet potatoes to create a sweet potato with a distinctive aroma, wouldn't that make it 'one of a kind'? No one else could imitate it!"

Zhou Niang was somewhat tempted by her son's words, but she was more cautious.

"Will this... work? The dried sweet potatoes are sweet, and the leaves are fragrant, all mixed together..."

"Can I give it a try, Mom?"

The little girl's interest was piqued, and her eyes brightened again.

"Let's make a small batch first and see how it tastes. If it's good, I'll take it to town and tell my regular customers that this is our 'secret recipe' sweet potato chips with special spices from our mountains, and that the taste is unlike anything else!"

"Yes, let's try it first!" Zhou Fangyuan agreed.

"Besides fish-fragrant leaves, we can think of other combinations. In short, we need to create something different."

Under the kerosene lamp, the mother and her two children sat around the dining table. The gloom that had been caused by the unsold sweet potato chips gradually dissipated and was replaced by a new, eager hope.

Outside, the mountain village was quiet at night; inside, warm light illuminated three faces filled with contemplation and anticipation.

The aroma of that pot of chicken soup, mixed with the unique fragrance of fish-flavored leaves, seemed to foreshadow that a new path, with its distinctive scent, was quietly sprouting in the ordinary days.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, my younger sister carried a bamboo basket and a small bag of dry food and headed to the school in town.

Before leaving, she ran to the kitchen door and whispered to her mother and brother who were starting a fire, "Mom, brother, I wish you success!" Her eyes were full of anticipation.

Zhou Fangyuan smiled and agreed, watching his sister's light and quick figure disappear into the morning mist. He then turned around and rolled up his sleeves.

"Mom, let's begin."

Zhou Niang responded and carefully picked out a dozen or so red-fleshed sweet potatoes of uniform size and smooth skin from the pile of sweet potatoes in the corner.

"That's all for now. Let's try it out first, and not waste good stuff."

As she spoke, she put the sweet potatoes into the wooden basin, scooped up well water, and carefully washed them with Zhou Fangyuan.

The mud on the sweet potato skin has been washed off, revealing its purplish-red outer skin.

Zhou Fangyuan remembers that people in those days never peeled their skins, saying that the skin had its own flavor and was even chewier when dried, and they couldn't bear to peel off the little bit of edible flesh and throw it away.

The cleaned sweet potatoes were placed whole into a large iron pot, covered with well water, and then covered with a heavy cedar wood lid.

Zhou Niang sat on a small stool in front of the stove, skillfully adding firewood to start the fire.

The orange flames licked the bottom of the pot, and soon, the sound of bubbling water came from inside. Steam rose in wisps from the edge of the lid, carrying the simple, sweet aroma unique to sweet potatoes.

"It needs to be steamed thoroughly; a chopstick should be able to easily pierce through it."

As Zhou Niang added firewood to keep the fire burning, she spoke softly.

Zhou Fangyuan sat next to his mother, watching the flickering firelight in the stove reflect on her serene face, and felt a long-lost sense of peace.

The mother and son chatted casually, mostly Zhou Fangyuan talking about his random observations and experiences outside, while Zhou's mother listened quietly, occasionally asking a question or two.

About half an hour later, the sweet potatoes were steamed.

After turning off the heat, Zhou Niang let them simmer in the pot for a little while longer, "so they'll be more glutinous."

Lifting the lid, an even richer, sweeter aroma wafts out. The sweet potatoes are all plump and swollen, with some of their skins cracked.

Using chopsticks, Zhou Niang placed the sweet potatoes into a clean bamboo tray to dry. Once they were cool enough to handle, she picked up a kitchen knife, dipped it in clean water, and began to cut the sweet potatoes into even, thick strips.

Her movements were slow but steady, and each piece was cut to a similar size.

Zhou Fangyuan wanted to help, but Zhou's mother stopped him with a smile: "Your hands are for holding a pen and acting, don't ruin the design. Go get the drying mat and spread it in the yard."

Zhou Fangyuan did as instructed, moving the bamboo drying mat that had been used for many years to the sunniest spot in the yard and carefully wiping it with a cloth.

When he returned, his mother had already cut all the sweet potatoes. The golden, oily sweet potato strips were placed in a winnowing basket, looking very appealing.

"Sun-dry it for a day until it's half-dry before adding the ingredients."

As Zhou Niang spoke, she and Zhou Fangyuan carefully spread the sweet potato strips evenly on the drying mat, leaving a small gap between each strip.

The warm sunshine of early winter morning shone down on these sweet potato fries, which carried new hope.

After laying out the sweet potato strips, Zhou Niang washed her hands and took off her apron: "Come on, let's go pick some 'treasures' together."

She led Zhou Fangyuan to the earthen slope behind the house, where a small tree, though not tall, was indeed growing.

The leaves are deep green and glossy, shimmering in the sunlight. Even from a few steps away, you can smell a clear and unique fragrance – it is the fish-fragrant leaf.

Zhou Niang didn't pick many leaves, but carefully selected a few old leaves that were dark green and fleshy, and gently pinched off the leaf stems with her fingernails.

"The older leaves have more flavor; let's leave the younger leaves so the tree can grow taller."

She explained, gathering the few leaves she had picked in her palm, "That's enough, just try this much."

In the afternoon, the sweet potato fries that had been drying in the sun for most of the day had become a little wrinkled, and felt soft and chewy to the touch, no longer sticky.

Zhou Niang put the sweet potato strips into a clean small earthenware jar, then picked up the few fish-fragrant leaves, rinsed them again by the well, shook off the water droplets, and put them into the jar as well.

Fearing the flavors would mix too much, they discussed a solution last night: instead of mixing the leaves with the sweet potato fries, they simply layered them together.

"Just leave it sealed like this. It's warmer by the stove, so the aroma will slowly seep in without being overpowering or making the sweet potatoes sour."

As she spoke, she covered the mouth of the jar with a piece of faded coarse cotton cloth, tied it tightly with hemp rope, and then placed the small earthenware jar in the corner of the still-warm stove.