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

Zhou Niang patted the dust off her hands, looked at the inconspicuous little pottery jar, and then looked at her son with a hint of expectation in her eyes.

"Alright! We can take them out to dry tomorrow."

But more than anything, it reflects the inherent caution that farmers have when dealing with new things.

"I don't know if it will work, but I hope the aroma will be good and not ruin these sweet potatoes and leaves."

Zhou Fangyuan looked at his mother, then at the pottery jar, his heart filled with confidence.

This experiment blends the scents of sunshine, earth, firewood, and the unique aroma of fragrant leaves.

It wasn't just about making different kinds of dried sweet potatoes; it was more like a small, beautiful idea about change that he and his mother were quietly brewing together in the quiet morning in the mountain village.

Okay, let's continue with the first line of thought, focusing on the timeframe of "only one day left of the holiday," and write about the heartwarming twists and turns and the success that follow.

The next morning, Zhou Fangyuan was already thinking about the small earthenware pot by the stove.

Zhou Niang wasn't in a hurry. She finished feeding the chickens and sweeping the yard as usual before finally unwrapping the coarse cloth from the earthenware pot under her son's expectant gaze.

A richer and more complex aroma wafted out, no longer the simple crispness of fish-fragrant leaves, nor the pure sweetness of sweet potatoes.

It's a blend of plant spice and grain caramel notes, yet it has an indescribably pleasant aroma.

Zhou Niang carefully examined the contents of the jar and picked up a piece of fish-fragrant leaf with her chopsticks.

She leaned closer to smell it, then gently squeezed the sweet potato fries that had become more chewy, but she frowned.

"The fragrance has penetrated... but something still feels off..."

As she spoke, she picked up a sweet potato fry and handed it to Zhou Fangyuan, saying, "Try it."

Zhou Fangyuan nervously took it and tried taking a small bite.

After being left to ferment for a day, the dried sweet potatoes were softer and more tender than yesterday, but... he tasted them carefully, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as well:

"Mom, the sweetness of the sweet potato seems to be masked a bit, and the flavor of the fish-fragrant leaf is a bit too strong, it's on the front of the tongue, and the sweetness has gone to the back."

Zhou Niang also tried one, chewing it slowly, and nodded:

"That makes sense... The leaves have a strong flavor, and the sweet potato has a robust nature. If you just leave it to sit, the aroma will rise to the surface."

Looking at the few remaining fish-fragrant leaves in the jar, she felt no pity, but rather a thoughtful expression, as if she were facing a crop task that needed adjustment.

"How about... we rub the leaves?"

Recalling something he'd seen someone do before when making tea, Zhou Fangyuan continued, "If you knead the leaves to extract some juice, won't the aroma penetrate even better?"

Zhou Niang thought for a moment: "Just knead it directly, otherwise it might turn sour if too much juice gets on it."

"Then I'll go and warm the leaves slightly by the fire pit, not too dry. Once the leaves are soft, the aroma will release more easily."

This time she was more confident, based on her old experience with vanilla.

She carefully took out the few still precious fish-fragrant leaves, spread them out on a small tile, and placed them by the still embers of the fire pit, slowly drying them with that faint warmth.

On the other side, she poured all the dried sweet potatoes from the earthenware jar into a bamboo winnowing basket, and spread them out in a well-ventilated area in the yard to dissipate some of the stuffiness on the surface.

About half an hour later, the fish-fragrant leaves were dried until they were soft and darker in color, but the aroma seemed to have subsided and become more mellow.

Zhou Niang placed the leaf in her palm and gently rubbed it a few times until the leaf curled up slightly and a very fine oily sheen seeped out.

Then, she again layered the processed fish-fragrant leaves and dried sweet potatoes into the washed and dried earthenware jar.

"This time, we won't put it by the stove. We'll put it under the window in the room where you sleep. It's well-ventilated and a bit shady there. Let them take their time; you can't rush sweet potato chips."

Looking at his mother's calm and composed actions and words, Zhou Fangyuan felt much of the slight anxiety he had felt because the holiday was coming to an end.

This is the wisdom of a mother, and the patience that the land teaches farmers.

In the afternoon, Zhou Fangyuan helped his mother chop the last bit of firewood in the house and stack it neatly.

The two sat under the eaves to rest, the winter sun making them feel lazy.

Looking at her son, Zhou Niang asked softly, "You...have to leave tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, the bus leaves early the day after tomorrow. I need to get to the city to catch the train." Zhou Fangyuan nodded, a feeling of reluctance welling up inside him.

"Once this busy period is over, everything will be fine..."

As if comforting her son, and also as if comforting herself, Zhou Niang spoke softly and gently:

"Take care of yourself while you're away. Village affairs are handled by Uncle Zhao, Uncle Wang, and everyone else."

At that moment, a few thick clouds drifted across the sky, and the sky seemed to darken a bit.

Zhou Niang looked up and said, "I hope it rains. The dried sweet potatoes can't get damp again."

She immediately got up and, together with Zhou Fangyuan, quickly brought the batch of ordinary sweet potato chips that had been drying in the yard into the house.

Sure enough, a light drizzle began to fall in the evening.

Fortunately, the small jar of dried sweet potatoes used in the experiment was placed under the window inside the house and remained unharmed.

But this also means that the planned "last day of drying" cannot be carried out.

"The weather is really bad... I hope this rain stops tomorrow, otherwise these dried sweet potatoes might get soggy..."

"Young man, it seems you won't be able to taste the final flavor of these dried sweet potatoes with fish-fragrant leaves." Zhou Niang looked at the dried sweet potatoes with a hint of regret in her heart.

Looking at the rain outside the window, Zhou Fangyuan suddenly had an idea: "Mom, if we can't dry it in the sun, can we dry it in the oven?"

Use charcoal fire to slowly dry it from a distance, just like drying cured meat. The key is to remove the moisture without burning it, so it won't get soggy.

Zhou Niang's eyes lit up: "This method... is worth a try!"

She immediately set to work, clearing a small area in the kitchen and starting a small fire.

Once the open flame has faded, leaving only the bright red embers, a thin layer of stove ash is placed on top, leaving only a gentle heat.

Then, she took the dried sweet potatoes wrapped with fish-fragrant leaves from the jar, spread them on a fine-mesh bamboo sieve, and placed it two feet above the charcoal fire.

A faint, continuous heat slowly rose up.

Zhou Niang moved a small stool and sat down next to her, occasionally testing the temperature with her hand and carefully turning the dried sweet potatoes to prevent any side from overheating.

The younger sister, who had returned, stayed by their side, adding charcoal and handing them things. The orange glow of the charcoal fire illuminated the family's focused faces.

This drying process lasted until well past midnight.

During this time, Zhou Niang made another adjustment, taking out the fish-fragrant leaves that had lost their aroma, saying that they could still be used in stews after being dried.

The dried sweet potatoes themselves, during slow baking, gradually darken in color, presenting a very tempting, oily amber color.

The unique complex aroma became increasingly mellow and robust, completely blending into the potato flesh.

It was late at night when the mother judged the last sweet potato slice to be "just the right firmness, still soft inside."