Huangjing
My name is Xiaoshan, and I grew up in a mountain village at the foot of the Qinling Mountains. Since I can remember, my grandfather’s calloused hands, stained with the fragrance of earth medicine, and the various herbal scents that pervade the house, sometimes bitter and sometimes sweet, are the deep imprints of my childhood. But there is something that always carries an almost sacred aura in Grandpa’s mouth, and it has a loud name – “Immortal Grain”, also known as Huangjing. The story of me steaming and sun drying wild Huangjing began in the autumn of my fifteenth year, and that time, I truly understood its weight.
First Encounter with Fairy Grass: Secrets Under Rotten Soil and Grandfather’s Test
Xiao Shan, come here! “Grandpa stood in the backyard, pointing to several plants whose leaves were already half withered and yellow. The leaves are wide, a bit like bamboo leaves, but thicker, swaying slightly in the autumn wind. Do you recognize what this is
I scratched my head and said, ‘It looks familiar… Is it the yellow spirit you keep talking about?’
By the way! “Grandpa’s eyes lit up, as if he had discovered a treasure. Let’s go take you to see its real home! “He carried the polished old bamboo basket on his back and handed me a small medicinal hoe.
The mountain road is rugged, getting deeper and deeper as you walk. My grandfather’s footsteps are steady, but I am panting heavily. Finally, on a shady hillside, towering ancient trees stood tall, with thick, soft black humus soil underfoot that felt like a carpet. The air was moist, and the sound of a nearby stream could be heard.
Look at this place! “Grandpa squatted down, grabbed a handful of black soil, rubbed it, and sniffed it at the tip of his nose. Now that the leaves are yellow and almost withered, the ‘baby bumps’ underground have gathered their strength. It’s time to’ please ‘them to come out, “Grandpa said with a kind of awe that I didn’t fully understand at the time. The process of searching made me feel for the first time that the rarity of this’ immortal food ‘lies in the pickiness of the mountains and forests.
Cliff Scare: The First Life and Death Lesson of “Please Treasure”
A few days later, my grandfather decided to take me to dig. He chose a plant with excellent growth, but its location made me take a breath of cold air – it was firmly rooted under a crevice in a protruding cliff, with a deep and bottomless mountain stream below! Clouds and mist linger, and the mountain wind howls.
Grandpa! This… it’s too dangerous! “My voice was trembling.
Grandpa didn’t say a word, just silently untied the rope, skillfully tying one end to a strong old tree root and the other firmly tied to his waist. Good things are often in danger, according to the rules passed down by our ancestors, “his tone was beyond doubt. He handed me another rope and said, “You’re up there, hold on tight! Follow my command to retract the rope
Watching him move down the rock wall like a gecko, my heart rose to my throat. The foothold was only palm sized, and the gravel kept rolling down the abyss under his feet. He stopped above the yellow spirit plant and removed the small medicinal hoe from his waist. At that moment, time seemed to freeze. The mountain wind made the ropes sway, and I couldn’t see his movements clearly. I only heard the faint sound of the hoe scraping the soil and stones, mixed with my heartbeat like a drum.
After an unknown amount of time, Grandpa’s voice came from below, with a barely noticeable gasp: ‘Xiao Shan! Tighten up! Stabilize!’ I exerted all my strength, stomped on the ground with both feet, and tightly grabbed the rope. I felt the rope suddenly sink, then light again. Grandpa’s figure slowly climbed up, sweat soaking through his coarse cloth jacket, but his face had an indescribable radiance. He spread out his rough palm, a string of thick roots and stems that were stained with fresh soil, shaped like irregular ginger chunks, and had golden beard roots, lying quietly in his palm, unscathed.
Look, Xiao Shan! “Grandpa’s voice was filled with excitement.” This is the real ‘golden bump’! It’s a bit risky, it’s worth it! “He carefully put it into the bamboo basket lined with soft moss. At that moment, the wind on the cliff, the falling gravel, the sweat on my palms, and the marks on the ropes all became the imprints of this “divine food” in my life – its preciousness was earned with my life.
Nine steaming and nine sun drying: the patience of smoking and the hardships of the heavens
The yard is filled with fresh yellow spirit harvested this time, emitting a fresh scent of soil and vegetation. But Grandpa said that this is the first step of the Long March, and the real test is nine steaming and nine sun drying.
First Steaming: Please invite the “Kitchen God” from the neighboring village’s big stove to cook vigorously, with a specially made cedar steaming basket emitting steaming steam. Grandpa looked at the fire, but his brow was furrowed. I always feel like this fire is almost meaningless… Xiao Shan, go to the neighboring village and invite Grandpa Zhao! His skill in steaming Huangjing is like that of a living god! “I ran and invited Grandpa Zhao, who had white hair and sharp eyes like an eagle. As soon as Zhao Ye arrived, he circled around the stove, touched the
firewood, and then looked at the steam: “Old Li Tou, your fire is too hot! It’s like stir frying! You need a slow fire, a continuous force, do you understand? Steaming Huangjing, can’t be in a hurry!” He personally adjusted the position of the firewood and closed the stove door. In an instant, the originally impatient steam became gentle and even. Zhao Ye moved a small Magza and
sat in front of the stove, sipping dry smoke and squinting his eyes at the steamer: “To steam it thoroughly, it needs to be smooth inside and out, and the color needs to turn black. I’m here, don’t worry about it.” That night, the firelight in the stove reflected Zhao Ye’s calm face, and the steam in the steamer was lingering. The air was filled with a sweet aroma of freshly cooked yellow and slightly green. I watched over the firewood, my eyelids fighting, and for the first time, I learned what “slow work produces fine work” means.
The first exposure: The clumsy steamed polygonatum pieces from the rainstorm are covered with a dozen bamboo plaques with attractive luster, stretching in the rare warm winter sun. I am responsible for flipping through the sun, feeling happy in my heart. After two days of sun exposure, the color has darkened and feels a bit tough to the touch. Grandpa had a smile on his face. Who would have thought that on the third afternoon, the sky would change at any time! Just now, the sky was clear for thousands of miles, but in the blink of an eye, dark clouds were looming
and strong winds were blowing! Stop it! Stop it! “Grandpa’s roar changed tone! The whole family rushed out like a war! Lift the plaque, lift the things. The raindrops as big as beans are splashing down! I hurriedly picked up a plaque, and with a slip of my foot, the entire bamboo plaque was about to slip off and be fastened to the ground! At this critical moment, a hand with bulging veins firmly supported the edge of the bamboo plaque – it was Grandpa! He was half wet, but he tightly protected the plaque yellow spirit. Hurry inside! “He shouted. We awkwardly snatched all the
yellow spirits back to the ventilated hall. Watching the downpour outside the window, and touching the hot but damp polygonatum in the bamboo plaque, Grandpa squatted on the threshold, patted the empty smoke pot, and his brow twisted into a pimple: “This God… Alas! What can I do with this’ sweat ‘(sweating)? Don’t be bored!” The unexpected rainstorm poured into our hearts like a basin of cold water, and let me realize for the first time how much the word “drying” of “nine steaming and nine drying” depends on the face of God.
Sweating and Watching the Clear Sky: It rained all day! The yellow semen block trapped in the room feels a bit damp and sticky to the touch. Grandpa’s face darkened from moment to moment. Zhao has been invited again. He picked up a piece, pried it open, carefully examined the core, and leaned in to smell it: ‘It’s okay! It’s not spoiled or damaged! Quickly spread it out and lay it thinly in a ventilated place to dry. Don’t pile it up together! Let’s wait until the weather clears completely and stabilizes before we say anything.’ We can only patiently wait. The first thing I did
the next day was to look up at the sky. Finally, the long-awaited sunshine pierced through the clouds and shone on the earth. The power of sunshine is truly great, but for us, it is simply a savior! Once again, I covered the bamboo plaque with yellow spirit and flipped it over quickly. Watching them gradually dry up in the sunlight, their color changing from dull to shiny and deep brown, Grandpa’s furrowed brow finally relaxed slightly. Every round of steaming and drying is like an unknown battle. The steaming heat is controlled by Mr. Zhao; When it’s sunny, the heavens
decide; The degree of sweating depends entirely on my grandfather’s decades of experience to perceive. I guarded the stove, flipped over the bamboo plaque, and watched the two elderly people’s increasingly sunken eye sockets and darker and rougher faces. Only then did I truly understand that behind the four words “nine steaming and nine sun drying” were countless days and
nights of suffering, the anxiety of fighting for life with heaven, and a kind of almost faith persistence. Ninth sun drying: The black gold is newly formed, sweet and soul stirring. After the ninth round of steaming and drying is completed, on that winter afternoon when it is fully dried, the sunshine is particularly gentle. Grandpa picked up a piece of yellow spirit from the bamboo plaque
with a slightly trembling hand. It has undergone a complete transformation, reborn from Nirvana: Black! Oil shiny! Like high-quality ink jade, and like black amber soaked in sunlight! It is heavy in the hand, but exceptionally soft, with a greasy and sticky texture. Upon closer inspection, the deep, mellow, and intoxicating sweet aroma instantly penetrated into the nasal cavity,
reaching straight to the heart and spleen. Grandpa carefully took off a piece the size of a fingernail and put it into my mouth. With a gentle sip of the tip of the tongue, the indescribable, pure to the extreme sweetness, like mellow and gentle honey, instantly melts in the mouth, flowing warmly towards all limbs and bones, without any bitterness or numbness, only a long and distant aftertaste.
It’s done… Xiaoshan, it’s done! “Grandpa’s voice was hoarse, and tears flickered in his eyes. Grandpa Zhao also opened his mouth with only a few teeth left, smiling like a child. I held the black “gem”, felt the incredible sweetness, recalled the wind on the cliff, the embarrassment of the rainstorm, the burning cheek in front of the stove, the turning of the bamboo plaque to the sour
arm… All the hardships turned into the mellow beauty of the tongue and the shock of the heart at this moment. Where is this just a rhizome? This is clearly a miracle condensed by the sun, rain and dew, the steepness of the cliffs, the temperature of the stove fire, the hard work of the craftsmen, and countless days and nights of anxiety and hope!
The fragrance of ancient tea: a unique flavor in every soil and water
The nine yellow spirits at home are famous. One day, the shopkeeper Ma, who often came to collect medicinal herbs, came again and brought a few oiled paper bags. Xiaoshan, come and taste the freshness! This is from the northern mountains, this is from the Dabie Mountains in the east, and this is from Xiangxi in the south
We sat around the fire pit, savoring it like tea. Our Huangjing from Qinling Mountains is strong and robust, with a sweet, domineering and mellow taste, like burning knife wine. With one sip, the warm current flows straight to the feet, full of aftertaste; The Dabie Mountains have a more delicate shape, with a sweet and elegant taste that is warm and moist, like a clear spring in a mountain stream, carrying a refreshing spiritual energy; Xiangxi is a bit unique, with a sweet taste that hides an indescribable, smoky and fiery forest charm, and a subtle hint of spice faintly visible on the tongue.
Hey, amazing! Is the taste so bad? “I was amazed. Ma Zhanggui took a sip of coarse tea and smiled, “Xiao Shan, this is the ‘authentic place’! Our Qinling Mountains are cold early, and the Huangjing is strong and sweet; the Dabie Mountains have heavy fog, moisture nourishes people, and the sweetness is watery; in the territory of Xiangxi, the mountains are high and the forests
are dense, and there is a lot of miasma, and the Huangjing also has a bit of ‘wildness’, sweet with a bit of temper! They are all precious lumps in the mountains, it just depends on which bite you take!” It turns out that this black’ gem ‘still carries the imprint of hometown mountains and rivers. Every time you taste it, it feels like measuring different mountains and rivers.
The Taste of Immortal Grain: Mountain Soul on the Tongue
This hard won ‘black gemstone’ feels like a pleasure no matter how you eat it:
Simple happiness: I love to cut a small piece of shiny black yellow essence under the warm winter sun and throw it directly into my mouth. Don’t chew, just hold on. Let the pure, rich, and seemingly concentrated sweetness of the forest sunshine slowly release and diffuse in the mouth. The soft and smooth texture wraps around the tongue, and an indescribable sense of satisfaction rises from the bottom of the heart. Grandpa often says, “Silly boy, eat slowly! This is the true essence of ‘immortal food’! Enjoy the kindness of the mountains and the sun
Aniang’s heartwarming soup: Aniang’s stewed Huangjing Laomu chicken soup is the taste of home in my heart. In the clay pot, the golden soup gurgled with bubbles, while the dark yellow semen chunks, bright red wolfberries, and snow-white yams floated heavily in the soup. After simmering for several hours, the sweetness of Polygonatum sibiricum gradually melted into the
soup, dispelling the richness of the chicken soup and adding a deep and long-lasting richness. Take a sip, hot and fragrant, warm from the throat all the way to the stomach, dispelling all the coldness. The soft and tender yellow semen chunks that melt in the mouth are even more coveted by me and my younger siblings. Ah Niang always laughs and scolds us as’ little greedy cats’.
Hui Gan from the mountain spring: When grandpa and I get tired of going up the mountain to collect herbs, we will find a big stone by the stream and sit down. Grandpa took out a small knife and cut a few thick slices of Polygonatum sibiricum, threw them into the old enamel jar he carried with him, scooped up the clear mountain spring water and washed it down, then covered it
with a lid. Having rested enough, I lifted the lid and saw a jar of deep amber yellow essence water with a strange sweet fragrance floating in front of me. Take a sip, refreshing and sweet, the heavy sweetness seems to penetrate into the bone crevices, instantly replenishing the energy expended. Grandpa said that this is a real reward from the mountain for the hardworking author.
Grandma’s clever idea: The grandma next door is skilled and can grind the dried Jiu Zhi Huang Jing into fine powder. She steamed Mantou and pancakes in her hair. The steamed Mantou has a light brown color. When it is opened, it is steaming hot, and a sweet smell will come out. We kids all love to eat and always rush to get our hands on it. Grandma smiled and said, “Eat, eat, eat the essence of the mountain!” Unconsciously, the essence of the “immortal food” was integrated into our daily life.
The Origin of Immortal Grain: Gratitude on Cliffs and the Legend of Taoist Temples
Grandpa, “I finally couldn’t help but ask the question I had been holding back for a long time,” why is it called ‘immortal food’? Do immortals really eat this? “The firewood in the fire pit crackled, reflecting Grandpa’s weathered face. He took a puff of dry tobacco and cast his gaze towards the dark distant mountains outside the door, recounting the past:
The life-saving grace on the cliff: “That was when your great grandfather was young. He suffered a great disaster year, and there was no harvest in the fields. The villagers were so hungry that their eyes turned green, and the bark and roots of the trees were all eaten. There was no other choice but to venture deeper into the mountains to find food. There was a group of people who were so hungry that they couldn’t even walk. Just when they were about to despair, they saw this kind of leaf in the cliff crevice that was similar to where you had dug. They worked hard to dig
out the roots and roots below, but didn’t care about growing hemp. They even chewed on the mud and land… Hey, it’s really sweet! Although they have numb tongues, they are really hungry! With it, many people rely on it. I walked out of the mountains alive and survived that winter,” Grandpa’s voice fell low, After that, everyone in the village knew that there was’ life-saving food ‘hidden in this mountain. It wasn’t the gods who pitied us and secretly guided us. What was it
The Dream of Eternal Life in Taoist Temple: Grandpa Zhao was also there that day. He knocked on his cigarette ash and said, “Also, listen to my grandfather’s story. In ancient times, those who wanted to become immortals and attain enlightenment hid in these deep mountains to ‘avoid grains’, that is, they didn’t eat grains and miscellaneous grains. When they couldn’t bear it anymore, they discovered this yellow spirit, which grew in segments like millet (in ancient times, millet was called’ surplus grain ‘). Eating it raw and cooked could survive, and even eating it
made them feel energized! They thought,’ This must be the food eaten by immortals, and even ordinary people can get it! ‘So, they also called it’ immortal surplus grain ‘or’ yellow zhi ‘. Write it as a treasure in those books on cultivating immortality!” Grandpa stood up and took out the precious “Compendium of Materia Medica” from the inner room, which he regarded as a treasure
and had flipped over every corner, Pointing to one of the pages and showing it to me, he said, “Look, Old Master Li Shizhen remembers, ‘Huangjing, the immortal family thought it was Zhicao’, and even said it was’ filling in all the deficiencies and essence ‘. This name has been passed down by our ancestors for thousands of years and is well-known
Now, I am also approaching the age of thirty. Whenever I hold a small piece of dark, shiny, and sweet yellow essence under the warm sun, or drink a sip of the rich yellow essence chicken soup stewed by Ah Niang, those images always vividly appear before my eyes:
It’s the howling mountain wind on the edge of the cliff, the rope tied to my waist, the falling gravel under my feet, and the relieved and cherished gaze of my grandfather when he lifted the “golden knot”;
It’s the flickering flames in the stove, the dense steam lingering on the steamer, the silhouette of Grandpa Zhao sitting on the small horse tie, focused on controlling the fire, and the slightly sweet aroma of the first ripening that permeates the entire yard;
The whole family was in a hurry when the rainstorm struck, the weight of the bamboo plaque on the back, the hope of the plaque protected by Grandpa’s wet back, and the anxiety of grasping the heart and scratching the liver when waiting for the sunny day;
It was on the ninth sun drying field, the “gem” that had finally transformed into black gold under the warm winter sun, emitting a intoxicating sweet fragrance, with tears flashing in the eyes of the two elderly people and pure childlike smiles
Where is the only sugar and starch in this dark ‘immortal food’? It clearly blends into the steepness of the cliff, the fragrance of the soil, the intensity of the sun, the coldness of the rain, the temperature of the stove fire, the ultimate craftsmanship, the agony of waiting, and the ecstasy of the final harvest. It is the generosity of the mountains and forests, the wisdom of survival, the perseverance of craftsmen, and the deep and sweet taste cooked by time and hard work.
The title of “immortal food” is not only a mercy given by the mountains in dire straits, but also a mysterious sustenance in the elusive dream of eternal life. But for me, it is the truth that my grandfather and Zhao have taught me throughout their lives: the land never fails those who take it seriously, and the deep taste often hides behind difficult sacrifices. Every time I taste it, the lingering fragrance on my lips and teeth echoes with the legend of Huangjing, which belongs to me, my grandfather, and the deep mountains of Qinling, full of heartbeat, sweat, sunshine, and craftsmanship.
