摘要
I had my most delicious meal with noodles in a small village along the Yellow River. It was on a March day a decade ago, when I had just moved to Shanxi Province. I was out in the field as a reporter, and was exhausted and starving after traveling more than 50 kilometers on foot and by bus. A middle-aged man, whom I did not know, was standing in front of his dugout cave, the traditional dwelling of the Shanxi people." He called to me and invited me to have a meal in his home. Upon entering the cave, I was asked to sit on a kang, a brick bed, while the man’s wife busied herself with cooking my meal. In no time a huge bowl of youpomian, noodles with Chinese prickly ash oil, was on the table in front of me. My nostrils were immediately filled with the strong and delicious smell of chili and prickly ash.
