Congee Crust Soup

Congee Crust Soup

　　Congee Crust Soup

　　“Congee crust soup, what a fragrant delight, everyone loves it just right!” Locals born and raised in the mountainous regions of Yuexi have long made and especially loved congee crust soup. Anyone from out of town who has tried it can’t help but sigh in admiration and shower it with praise.

　　Making congee crust soup is very simple. It involves intentionally using a bit more water when cooking rice. When the rice begins to boil, the rice water is skimmed off; once the rice is steamed, it is scooped out. The rice water is then poured back into the pot, and the unburnt, non-sticky rice crust is loosened up. The pot is heated again over firewood until the soup boils and the rice crust softens—this is congee crust soup. If there are many people eating, a thicker layer of crust is left, even toasted to a golden brown, which enhances the flavor. Though there's nothing spectacular about the technique, this method of turning the ordinary into the extraordinary, the strange into the appealing, and the unattractive into the delightful is truly one of a kind. It smells wonderfully fragrant, has a satisfyingly crisp texture, and is very palatable—suitable for all ages. It’s also highly nutritious and easy to digest, which is why it’s so widely loved and eaten in great quantities. People always feel their bowls are too small, slurping loudly, faces covered in sweat, savoring its incredible deliciousness. Especially when made with the thick, sticky rice water from freshly harvested rice, the resulting soup is even tastier and more flavorful. Even if you’re already full, you can easily drink another bowl or two. It’s definitely more delicious than the banquet dish known as “A Thunderclap on Flat Ground.” Though that dish has aromatic seasonings, its taste still can’t compare to the authentic, pure flavor of congee crust soup—just as meat stir-fried in pork fat tastes more genuine.

　　Eating congee crust soup is even better when paired with some pickled vegetables. And pickled vegetables are something rural Yuexi does best. Golden yellow cowpeas and pickles, bright red chilies and bamboo shoot shoots, shiny white onions and garlic cloves. Crunchy radishes and lotus roots are so inviting they make your mouth water—it’s truly a beautiful pairing of delicious flavors. People of all ages can find shared joy in eating congee crust soup: children enjoy its playful innocence, pretty girls savor its charm and coquettishness, bold young men revel in its hearty freedom, and elderly folks find in it a confirmation of their enduring vitality.

　　As urban living conditions improve, electric rice cookers and pressure cookers have replaced iron pots, and electrical appliances and gas have taken the place of firewood. As a result, congee crust soup has become rare in cities. Moreover, after growing tired of overly greasy meals, city folk visiting towns or the countryside will often be the first to say to the kitchen staff or host, “Make some congee crust soup, please.” If it’s readily available, be prepared to make room in your stomach—eat less rice at first, or you’ll definitely regret it. If you visit the countryside of Yuexi and don’t get to eat congee crust soup, it’s like going to Beijing and not trying Peking duck—a truly regrettable experience.

　　It’s impossible to verify exactly when congee crust soup became a custom. But for the rise and widespread adoption of any practice, there are usually underlying reasons. The mountain folk of Yuexi have historically never had enough grain—even with today’s scientific farming and increased yields, grain still needs to be brought in from elsewhere. Thus, making congee crust soup was originally a measure to conserve food. At the same time, the mountains provide an inexhaustible and endlessly burnable supply of fuel. Making a bit of congee crust soup only requires a little extra firewood. Who would’ve thought it would later become such a beloved, irreplaceable delicacy?