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已经记不清具体的日期了——肯定是20世纪70年代中期的某一天,那一天无风也无雨,可是,那一天我有一个渺小而又强烈的愿望:我想吃肉。大块肉! 70年代中期,肉不是可以随便吃的。城市人凭借一张薄薄的肉票购买猪肉,每人一个月数两, 略沾荤腥,聊胜于无。可是,我已下乡当了一段时间的农民,肉味似乎很遥远了。肠子里数月没有油水,饭量大得吓人一跳。半个月之前,一个知青偷了只农民的鸡,切成小块扔进暖水瓶,再灌上一壶沸水,捂了一夜之后打开,鲜美扑鼻。我伸筷子抢到了两块。尽管如此,鸡毕竟是鸡,吃起来远不如膘肥流油的猪肉过瘾。乡村的泥路上时而有一两
I can’t remember the exact date — it was definitely a day in the mid-1970s. There was no wind and no rain that day, but on that day I had a small but strong desire: I wanted to eat meat. Large pieces of meat! In the mid-1970s, meat was not eaten casually. Urban people buy pork with a thin flesh ticket. Each person spends two months each month. However, the peasants who have been in the countryside for a while have seemed to be far away. There was no oil in the intestines for a few months and the appetite was terrific. Two weeks ago, an educated youth stole a peasant’s chicken, cut it into small pieces, and threw it into a pot of warm water. He poured a pot of boiling water and opened it overnight. I grabbed the chopsticks and grabbed two pieces. In spite of this, chickens are chickens after all, and they are far less delicious than pork with fat and oil. There are one or two on the dirt road in the countryside.