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吃饺子吃的是心情！天哪，我怎么就没想到呢？……

母亲太珍惜这个阖家团圆的周末了，她渴望用这种方式营造一个其乐融融的气氛，来品味生活的乐趣和疼爱。

——阿莹

饺子啊饺子

阿 莹

Dumplings, Ah! Dumplings

By A Ying

Translated by Hu Zongfeng and Robin Gilbank

胡宗锋 罗宾·吉尔班克 译

本文作者与译者

我爱吃母亲包的饺子。

几乎每个周末，妻子都要问我什么时候去东郊。那古城东郊的韩森寨住着我的高堂父母，我会不经意地问一句知道老妈做啥饭了？妻子便睨我淡然一笑：“饺子呗。”那一声“呗”把我们一家人对饺子的感情表达得淋漓尽致。

I adored the dumplings my mother made.

Almost every weekend, my wife would inquire if we were going to Hansenzhai in the eastern suburbs of Xi’an, where my elderly parents lived. I would casually ask her what she wanted my mother to prepare for us. Breaking into a feint grin she replied: “Well, dumplings.” The cadence of that “well” conveyed everything one needed to know about our family’s attachment to the dish.

母亲爱包饺子，我从懂事起就喜欢吃母亲包的饺子了，那时候吃饺子还是一家人过年时的奢望。记得每到大年三十，太阳刚刚偏西，渭北高原上那个被土围子包裹着的村落就陷入了浓浓的节庆之中，似乎所有在外忙碌的人都赶回来了，家境宽裕的孩子换了新衣裳招摇过巷，家境清贫的孩子也都把头剃得油光，远远见面都会乐呵呵地打个招呼，彼此也不说什么就神神秘秘地跑回家去了，即使兜里有几枚铜钱，想耍个输赢也不敢远离村郭大墙，其实就是在等待一个时刻的到来，那就是年夜吃饺子啊！

My mother took as much pleasure in making dumplings as I did in eating them. As far back as I can remember, they were a luxury to be looked forward to on New Year’s Eve. I recall that on the last day of every year, a festive atmosphere would engulf our village in the wilds of the Northern Wei Plateau. Those folks who had been busy outside would all come back home, the kids from well-off families would don new clothes, while youngsters from more humble households would shear their heads smooth and shiny, greeting one other from afar with glee. They wouldn’t exchange any small talk, but rather gallop home mysteriously, never daring to venture far from the village limits even if they had a few bronze coins with which to play games with their pals. Actually, they all were waiting for the same moment - the dishing up of the New Year’s Eve dumplings.

有趣的是村里人把饺子称为“疙瘩”，我至今也不知道里面隐含有什么典故。人们拜年见面会乐呵呵地问起“吃啥疙瘩了？”“肉疙瘩嘛。”其实我们家并没有多少“肉疙瘩”的，但母亲会想办法，割一条红白相间的肋条肉剁成馅，掺进大葱韭菜，或是白菜萝卜，还有碾得细细的五香作料。

One peculiar custom was how the villagers referred to dumplings as “knots.” To this day, I am none the wiser about why this should be. When trading pleasantries on New Year’s Day, they would blithely ask what kind of “knot” their neighbor had eaten. “Meat knots, of course” was the response. If truth be told, my family seldom had the chance to savor such a treat. Even so, my mother knew how to improvise. She would buy a narrow offcut of meat, half of which was white fat. Slicing this into a mince she seasoned it with spring onion, chives, cabbage or radish, then sprinkled on finely-ground five spice.

也不知从何时兴起的习俗，每锅饺子会有二三个包上硬币，谁能吃到嘴里，谁就是当年最幸运的人了。母亲那天会悄悄把我拉到厨房，用竹笊篱捞几个肉疙瘩倒进我碗里，我便端着碗在院里哪个角落狼吞虎咽起来，一不小心被几位小叔看见，也会引来不公的埋怨，因为他们碗里多是豆腐疙瘩。其实那豆腐疙瘩是很好吃的，馅里拌有油渣、粉条、生姜和萝卜，咬一口豆香满嘴，似乎到了下顿饭舌顶还残有那种绵绵香香的味道。于是我们便达成了“协议”，我拨他们三个豆腐疙瘩，他们从我碗里夹两个肉疙瘩。时常有人会从那肉疙瘩里咬出硬币来，只听“咯嘣”一声，便兴奋地高叫起来，我便懊悔得直淌眼泪，母亲知道了直戳我额头，真是个傻娃啊！可能就是因了这个缘故，我在那品类繁多的饺子里，对那豆腐馅的饺子情有独钟，有时出差在外，就打电话预约，回到城里端起母亲包的豆腐饺子头也不抬，话也顾不得多说，只是香滋滋地大嚼一通。

Nobody knows when the practice started, but one or two of the dumplings in the wok would contain a coin pressed into the filling. Whoever bit down on it could count upon a shower of good fortune in the coming year. When the day came around, my mother would drag me surreptitiously into the kitchen and use a bamboo skimmer to fish out several “meat knots” for my bowl. These I would wolf down in the corner of the courtyard. When my young uncles spotted what I was doing, they would mither on about how they only got a serving of “veggie knots.” In fact, the knots made from tofu were more than tasty enough, for they contained a splodge of dripping, bean starch noodles, ginger, and daikon radish. A single bite would fill one’s mouth with the sweet taste of beans, a flavor that seemed to linger on the palate until the next mealtime. I cut a deal with them that I would trade two meat knots for three vegetable ones from their bowls. Not unexpectedly, one of the uncles dug his teeth down on the coin within the meaty morsel. At the resultant click, the victor erupted into a happy scream. Tears of regret welled up in my eyes and mother poked my forehead and sighed at “what a silly lad” I was. Perhaps for this reason, among the various kinds of dumplings, the tofu kind became my favorite. Sometimes when I found myself in the vicinity on official business, I would call in advance and arrange to have some laid on for me. Once back home, picked up a bowl of dumplings made by my mother, I would eat my fill of it even if I had no time to talk.

当然，平时家里是很难吃到肉馅饺子的，但母亲礼拜天会想方设法给我们做饺子吃，实在买不到肉了，想办法也要给饺子馅里放点油水，常常是把猪油渣与白菜芹菜等掺和了，作为饺子馅。那种饺子扔进嘴里香口四溢，嚼得满嘴生津，我们一喊“香、香！”母亲就拍拍围裙的面末眯着眼笑了。

Certainly, while my mother would try her utmost to rustle up some dumplings on a Sunday, it was rare for them to have any meat inside. When she couldn’t lay her hands on meat, she would fall back on some fatty substitute. Often her fillings were a mixture of dripping, cabbage and celery. A single bite would make one’s mouth overflow with sweetness. My mother would always smile and rub her hands on her apron when we shouted “Delicious! Tasty!”

我已想不起从什么时候饺子对我们的吸引力大大减弱了，平日里宾朋往来，觥筹交错，应酬繁多，可人们已不把那饺子视为饮食中的精品了。好像在我们所吃的餐宴中，饺子已快从人们的视线里消失了，如果有谁宴请亲朋纯是一碗碗的饺子，一定会引来令人难堪的嘲笑，吃饺子几乎演变成了一种吝啬的代名词。

I cannot pinpoint when dumplings began to lose their attraction for us. In daily life, when friends rubbed shoulders and wined and dined each other in turn, they no longer regarded dumplings as special fare. Before our eyes, they literally vanished from the banquet table. If anybody were to treat his friends to just a bowl of dumplings, that would elicit embarrassed scorn. By now, eating dumplings has practically degenerated into a byword for stinginess.

但是母亲依然固守着对饺子的嗜好，依然每周都要包饺子吃的，每逢周末老人家就会打来电话，告诉我提前回来包饺子。而我们回家去吃那饺子，已经不是因为一碗饺子有多大诱惑，而是对年迈父母的孝道了。况且吃饺子要调馅，要擀皮，还要包，工序多复杂啊。我一半是怜悯，一半想换个口味，一进家门就给母亲建议，换个味道吧，吃米饭，蒸馒头，炒点菜。母亲略一沉吟皱皱眉看着我说：我现在就想不起来做啥好了，你看面都和好了，下礼拜吃米饭吧。但是下一个周末又是饺子，只是饺子馅会有些变化，我们也只好作罢。但儿子不愿意了，时常噘嘴嘟囔说“又是饺子”。我们小声哄儿子，奶奶包的饺子绝对不能说不好吃。为了取悦母亲，我对儿子约法三章，不允许在奶奶面前说饺子不好吃，不允许把碗里的饺子剩下，不允许在吃饺子时要别的食物。

However my mother still retained her love for dumplings and continued to cook them every week. On weekends, she would call us and ask us to come over early enough so we could help her prepare. Going back home to eat dumplings was no longer a tempting repast, but had become an act of filial piety toward our aging parents. What is more, the process was so complicated, since it involved mixing the filling, rolling out the dough and stuffing them. Half out of pity and half of a desire for novelty, I suggested that we instead eat some sort of rice dish, steamed buns or assorted stir-fry. My mother, mused over this momentarily before staring back at me with a frown and saying: “I don’t know what can be done right now. The wheat flour’s already been mixed. We can try some rice next time.” However, when the following weekend came around we were once again confronted with boiled dumplings, only the composition of the filling had been tweaked slightly. We had no choice but to yield, yet our son stood his ground and complained “not dumplings again!” Murmuring under our breath we cajoled him not to malign his grandma’s cooking out loud. In order to appease my mother, I drew up three rules for him: disdainful comments about dumplings should never be voiced in front of his grandma; no dumplings were to be left uneaten in his bowl; and asking for other dishes when dumplings were on the table was strictly forbidden.

然而，我的约束对儿子不起作用，几乎每次回家，儿子都要闹些让家人不愉快的事。常常是一迈出家门，我就和儿子在楼外高高低低地争执起来，到了深夜心情也舒缓不过来。可是儿子对付我们的办法层出不穷，干脆每次回家吃饭，碗还没端就说吃过了，引得一屋人怏怏不快。于是我一边低声哄儿子，说那饺子悠久的历史，丰厚的营养；一边劝母亲不要老包饺子了，换个花样让儿孙们有个期盼。然而，母亲听了暗然一笑便不吭声了，我再要劝说，老人家便嘟囔一句，你们想吃啥就自己回来做嘛。于是我告诉妻子下次回家我们来做米饭炒菜，妻隐而不语似信非信。我又转而电话告诉母亲，老人家也没反对，我以为下次周末肯定是顿丰盛的菜肴，便提前告诉儿子不准到时“逃吃”。

None of these edicts had any effect. Almost every time my son visited his grandparents, he would seize upon the most trivial pretence to make others feel uncomfortable. Often, the moment we left the house he would start to argue with me with shouts or whining. A feeling of unease duly dogged me until midnight. He also deployed various methods of subterfuge. When the lunch was about to be served, he would declare that he had already eaten and put a dampener on the situation. I tried to coax him in hushed tones, describing the long history and rich nutritional value of dumplings. At the same time, I sought to persuade my mother to prepare something else and so satisfy her grandson’s cravings. My mother remained silent with a tranquil smile. If I went on this way, she would hum and nag: “If you want something different, you can come and make it yourself.” I then told my wife we were going to cook fried vegetables and rice next weekend. She just kept silent and remained dubious. I then called my mother and she did not object. So I was quite sure that we would have a sumptuous meal next weekend and told my son in advance that he should not “run away from it.”

可是，当我满怀信心提了一大兜超市的蔬菜，携妻带儿迈进家门，想不到母亲像什么事也没发生，厨房内外又充盈着饺子馅的香气，老人家已做好了包饺子的所有准备，不但把包饺子的面和好了，还把饺子馅拌好了。而且，客厅茶几上支起一张面案，上边放着一碗面粉，周边还摆了五只小板凳，显然正等待我们三口回来包饺子呢。

Accompanied by my wife and kid, I carried a bagful of vegetables bought from the supermarket back to my parents’ home. In fact, nothing had changed. The delicious smell of dumpling fillings still wafted through the kitchen. My mother had followed her usual procedure, not only mixing the wheat flour for the dough, but deciding what should go inside the wrappers. On top of that, she had set the bowl of flour on top of a chopping board on the tea table. The five small stools positioned around it indicated that she was waiting for the three of us to help make our lunch.

我与妻子面面相觑，儿子朝我斜睨一眼满含嘲意，我也不好再说什么，佯装笑颜坐到母亲旁边，又示意儿子赶快坐下帮奶奶干活，一家人擀皮的擀皮，包馅的包馅，忙忙碌碌的，却没多少说笑。妻子当然知道我的尴尬，故意与父亲唠起家常，聊着聊着又聊到母亲买菜包饺子上，母亲淡淡地说这饺子要好吃，不但要 把菜选好，还要把肉与菜的比例调好，调馅过程还特别讲究，必须一边剁肉，一边往里掺鸡汤，这样的饺子才香呢。

My wife and I gazed at each other awkwardly and my son shot a contemptuous glance at me from the corner of his eye. I couldn’t say a word and simply sat beside my mother with a feigned smile. I also hinted to my son that he should sit down and lend his grandma a hand. All of us busied ourselves rolling out the dough and wrapping those tiny parcels, but remained taciturn and without a note of cheer. My wife recognised my awkwardness and made a point of chitchatting with my father about everyday life. While they were talking, the topic shifted to my mother’s method of making dumplings. Calmly and lightly, she explained that the secret lay not only in the choice of vegetables. Another critical matter was achieving the proper ratio of meat to greens. Mixing the filling required special attention, for chicken bouillon should be ladled on as the meat was being chopped. Only by executing this carefully would the resultant dumplings be succulent and delicious.

母亲忽然问我是不是？我正专心擀面皮，眼睛一直盯在手上，闻声抬头见母亲的眼睛盯着她的儿子。噢，母亲的脸松弛了，脖子也松弛了，已经挤满了深深浅浅的皱纹，脸颊还冒出了许多星星点点的黑斑，特别是母亲那原本清澈的眼睛也变得混浊了。我心里一阵酸楚想说什么，却不知说什么好，手下的面皮便擀得有的长，有的短，有的厚，有的薄，一圈人都叫起来，看你擀的面皮！

My mother suddenly asked me whether what she had just said was correct or not. I was so absorbed in rolling the dough and my eyes were focused squarely on my hands. On hearing these words, I cocked up my head and I saw how her eyes were fixed on me. Oh, how the skin on her face slackened, and her neck too. Deep and shallow wrinkles crisscrossed her epidermis. Some dark spots appeared on her face, and those eyes which had originally been clear became somewhat turbid. My heart was stung and I wanted to say something but did not know how to respond. The dough I was rolling became elongated and then stubby, thick and then thin. Everyone shouted: “Look at what you’re doing to it!”

母亲这时显然看出了我的情绪波动，说了句让我一辈子都无法忘记的话，她一边包一边自言自语地说：你爸你妈老了，也不想吃啥了，饺子香不香，关键是心情。一家人围在一块儿包饺子多好啊，一边包一边聊，非要做啥米饭，准备了一两天，你们吃完嘴一抹走了，连句多的话都没有。我和妻闻声都愣住了，母亲轻叹一口气：你们也会有这一天呢。

Sensing the emotions surging through me, my mother said something I shall never forget as long as I live. While wrapping the dumplings, she seemingly murmured to herself: “Your pa and ma are old, no longer have much appetite. Whether the dumplings are delicious or not boils down to our mood at the time. So wonderful to have all the family sitting around making them like this. We can chat as we work. What’s so special about rice? After preparing for a whole day or two, you eat up, wipe your mouth and go away. You don’t even have the mood to talk.” My wife and I were stunned. Mother then sighed softly: “You’ll know this when your turn comes.”

我抬头又看母亲，混沌的眼睛似乎明亮了许多，眼眸里含着格外的爱怜和依恋，吃饺子吃的是心情！天哪，我怎么就没想到呢？母亲心灵手巧什么菜不会做，何曾不想变个花样来款待她溺爱的儿孙，但母亲太珍惜这个阖家团圆的周末了，她渴望用这种方式营造一个其乐融融的气氛，来品味生活的乐趣和疼爱，虽然仅仅是一顿饭，可对母亲对父亲已经像节日一样了。

I raised my head and watched my mother again. Her cloudy eyes seemed brighter and clearer, now emanating a peculiar longing and sense of attachment. Eating dumplings is all a matter of mood! Oh, heavens! Why hadn’t I thought of this before? The maestro of all cuisine that she was, we presumed that the old lady should lavish a host of different dishes on her beloved son and grandson. In actual fact, she was loath to miss the opportunity for the family to join together as one. She yearned to be able to stir up a merry and festive atmosphere, and sup in all the gaiety and love that life could yield. In the first instance, it might only be a meal. To my parents it was a celebration of sorts.

那天的饺子皮我擀得很慢很慢，一家人也包得很慢很慢，一个个饺子犹如一个个工艺品，围着那笼屉一圈一圈螺旋着，看那精细劲儿我都不忍心下锅了。我没想到这小小的饺子居然承载了这么多的味道，融融亲情更把这味道发挥到极致。那天的饺子妻儿都说香，我却吃不出味道来。儿子问我，爸你咋了？我抬头看见镜子里自己的眸子涌满了泪花，便掩饰地说把辣子揉进眼睛了。

That day I rolled the dough painstakingly and the others wrapped at a gentle pace too. Every last dumpling was an artisan masterpiece, fashioned like a series of dainty spirals on the steaming frame. On studying their delicate and graceful composition, I was hesitant to even tip them into the wok. I had never appreciated how those tiny pouches could carry such a palette of taste. The tenderness of affection between kindred elevated their flavor to the sublime. Both my wife and son praised the dumplings that day, though my mind was not on how they tasted. “What’s up, dad?” my son asked me. I lifted my head and saw in the mirror how my eyes were now moist. I brushed it off by saying that I had accidentally rubbed some pepper into them.

我已不记得那天的饺子是什么馅的了，但我清晰得记得母亲吃得很香，父亲也吃得很香。

It slips my mind what the filling was that day. Still I can recall most vividly how heartily my mother and my father enjoyed their bowl of dumplings.