新竹 New Bamboo

唱歌唱戲, 打球比武, 都沾點邊, 隻是一事無成. 多年在美國, 早已筆澀.
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釀酒

(2005-11-24 19:48:30) 下一個

Making Rice Wine

Mama gave me some yeast

for making rice wine,

the best remedy for the homesick.

The yeast traveled with me

across the Pacific

and each day passed with the idea

of making good rice wine.

When I finally got ready,

I forgot how.

The recipe had to be resurrected

from my childhood memories

of good wine making

the way Waipo and Mama

always did it.

In Waipo's village of the camphor trees

making rice wine was a grand occasion.

A lucky day was picked

by a Fengshui Master.

Strong shoulders carried fresh well water

Rough hands rubbed the new sweet sticky rice.

There was the burning of sound timber

to make a good fire.

A giant rice steamer

sat in a giant wok

with boiling water

puffing out steam

filling the kitchen

with the fragrance of rice

making children's mouths water.

Sleeves were rolled and hands washed.

When the steaming rice was mixed with yeast,

we watched the kitchen turning into heaven

with gods riding on clouds.

We hung around to beg for some rice

but heard voices roaring like thunder,

"Hands off the rice!

There is no place for you

short-lived ghosts."

As the old folks used to say,

"In the making

it's clean wine and dirty tofu."

In the back hall of Waipo's house

the fermenting rice

was making bubbling noise

in a big wooden barrel

covered by a big bamboo tray.

Standing side by side with it

were two big coffins

painted in black lacquer

covered by a white drop cloth.

For longevity sake

grown-ups had their coffins custom-made

when they reached middle age.

The most expensive timber,

the intricate carving and painting

guaranteed their

living poor and dying rich.

In the back hall

we played hungry ghosts

stealing the fermenting rice.

The bamboo tray was thrown open

dirty hands grabbed the chopsticks

to stuff drooling mouths

with the intoxicating rice.

The alcohol made us bold enough

to unveil a corner of the coffin

and peep at "Longevity" carved in gold.

We would disappear in thin air,

when we heard the heavy footsteps

of Waipo's bound feet.


If the wine had turned to vinegar,

Waipo would know we'd done it

and we would be cursed to grow up

to become jealous wives or husbands.

But, the rice wine in Waipo's house

always turned out mellow and sweet

and we all grew up unmarried.

So, I started to make my own rice wine

in an electric rice cooker

doing this and that

as if by instinct.

It is now sitting in a salad bowl

as if waiting for something to happen.

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一唱 回複 悄悄話 很熱鬧的場麵. 喜歡米酒的香氣.
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