艾傈木诺《德昂三味》

If someone were to ask me about the most delicious meal I've ever had, my answer would undoubtedly be twofold: the meal I had when I was starving and every meal prepared by my mother.

I was born in Yongping, a serene and picturesque place in Dali, Yunnan. It feels like my birthplace whispered a prophecy, foretelling a life of perpetual peace and safety from my first breath to my last. But I didn't stay long in that idyllic place. Shortly after my birth, my parents moved back to their hometown, a Lisu village called Badi, nestled high on the snowy mountains by the Jinsha River. Badi, my father's hometown, housed our old family home, which I left only at ten.

The De'ang people are intrinsically connected to bamboo throughout their lives. They live in bamboo houses, use bamboo utensils, eat bamboo shoots, and even carry bamboo baskets. Men erect bamboo poles, and eventually, everyone is buried in a bamboo coffin. Processing fresh bamboo shoots is an inherent skill for every De'ang woman, and bamboo shoots are a staple on the table year-round. Even when we moved to the city and became urban marginal people filled with inner panic, this skill remained preserved in our family.

The bamboo shoots we harvested were white and fresh and carried a slightly bitter aroma of green bamboo. My mother would peel off the outer layers of the shoots in the mountains, wash them in mountain stream water, and carry them back home, still plump and heavy. She wore the basket's straps over her head, bearing its weight, while her hands carried additional bags. Every mouthful of mountain vegetables I ate was a testament to my mother's perseverance, brought back by her after traversing mountains and crossing ridges.

My mother would prepare pickled, sour, stinky, dried, and yellow bamboo shoots every summer. To make pickled sour bamboo shoots, you first need to shred the shoots with a tool called a "scraper" that my father had crafted. He hollowed out a space in a wooden board, embedded an iron sheet with nail holes in the hollow, and thus created our scraper. The process required precise control, and any carelessness could result in scraped fingers. My impatience often led to injuries, and my mother would wrap my hands with cloth torn from old clothes and continue working. She would say, "With your impatient nature, you'll always have plenty of losses waiting for you." Indeed, as my mother predicted, I have always paid for my impatience.

My mother would layer the shredded bamboo shoots into a large earthenware jar, compacting them until the water from the shoots submerged them. She covered the jar with a banana leaf, placed a wooden board on top, and weighed it down with a stone. These pickled white bamboo shoots, ready to be enjoyed, were a family favourite. They paired well with various dishes, from potatoes and eggplants to chicken and beef, enhancing every meal's flavour.

Speaking of sour bamboo shoots cooked with vegetables, this dish, also known as sour and fragrant vegetables, is a household classic in Dehong. The De'ang version emphasises natural plant acids and vegetarian preparations without bone broth, sugar, or oil. The sourness derives from sour bamboo shoots, papaya, and various sour fruits. A few cloves of garlic, cilantro, and chilli peppers mixed with a bit of the dish's soup create an essential dipping sauce, the soul of any bowl of sour and fragrant vegetables.

Yellow bamboo shoots are made by cutting fresh shoots into sections and boiling them vigorously with hot stove ash until they turn a deep yellow. The bamboo shoots lose their bitterness when soaked in clean water for three days. Yellow bamboo shoots, stir-fried or served cold, pair perfectly with ginger leaves, adding an irreplaceable flavour.

The most enjoyable part is cooking the fragrant yellow bamboo shoots, which my mother described as cooking bamboo shoots with bamboo shoots. She shredded the yellow bamboo shoots, added last year's sour bamboo shoots, and boiled them with salt, spicy peppers, fresh peppercorns, and ginger leaves. With its colourful ingredients, the resulting dish was a beautiful sight and a culinary delight. Our kitchen had no door, and neighbours like Mrs Lian would come by, drawn by the aroma, to share in our feast.

Dried bamboo shoots are the simplest to make. Spread yellow bamboo shoots on a bamboo mat to dry in the sun, and they become dried bamboo shoots, best cooked with meat. My mother would also dry sour bamboo shoots, enhancing any soup's flavour.

Thinking of my mother, the flavours of my childhood—sour, spicy, bitter, and sweet—linger on my tongue, bringing back cherished memories. My mother's culinary efforts always revolved around these flavours, nourishing me as I grew up. I know that sour bamboo shoots and fermented black beans are staples in De'ang cuisine, with spicy flavour as their soul. My mother's humble hands prepared food, watched me grow, and sent me on my way. She waits for me, among her proud jars and pots, for my return home.

As strands of white hair appear on my forehead, I think of my mother, the bean sprouts and tomato flowers on the hillside, the needlepoint for bloodletting, and the boiling tea aroma in the teapot.