Those four huge balls of meat almost ruined my Tuesday night

To be honest, I want to make Sixi Pills purely because my brain is pumping.

Last Tuesday, I was scrolling through the software that was full of food videos. The finger slipped and stopped. On the screen, a Shandong chef gently puts four meatballs the size of a football into the pot. That luster. That trembling sensation. The caption reads: "Reunion, happiness, one mouthful of juice." "My brain immediately blocked all rational voices. I want to eat it. I have to eat. Just tonight.

I am a German who has been living in Vancouver, Canada for eight years. Do you usually cook? That is, fry a sausage and boil a potato. At most, get some sauerkraut. But this time, I feel like I can do it. After all, isn't it just to roll the meat, fry it, and stew it again? How difficult can it be?

Big mistake.

Chaos began

I went to the supermarket and bought two pounds of stuffed pork. Fat to thin ratio? Who knows. I took a box when it looked pleasing to the eye. Go home and fasten your apron. Full of confidence.

Chop the green onion and ginger. Chop it. Mix. Add soy sauce, sugar, and add something called "five-spice powder". Wait, why do the words on this bottle look the same? Forget it, pour a little. Start stirring. The recipe says to use "force", to beat the meat filling to make it strong.

Okay, I'll fall.

Snap! The minced meat flew out. fell to the ground.
Snap! flew out again. It got on the cabinet door.

My kitchen is like a battlefield. My hands were full of slimy minced meat. My arm was so sore that I was terribly sore. But I didn't stop. I feel like a primitive person, fighting this piece of hand-to-hand combat. Finally, they barely took shape. Four big guys. Ugly is a little ugly, but big enough.

Next is frying.

Pour oil into the pan. Fire. Wait for oil heat. I put the first meatball in.

Zila——!

Oil splashes. Like fireworks. I jumped back and almost stepped on my sleeping cat. It screamed and ran away. I almost screamed too.

At this time, the problem arises.

I want to color the meatballs so that they are shiny red. The recipe reads: "Add an appropriate amount of sugar color." ”

Sugar color? Oh, it's about sautéing sugar into caramel, right? Simple.

I picked up the sugar bowl. Scoop a big spoonful. Throw into another small pot. Turn on low heat. Stir. Glycated. turned gold. It's beautiful. Keep stirring. It became dark brown. It smells a bit bitter.

And so on.

Isn't this color too dark?

Like burnt rubber.

Forget it! Pour it in!

I poured all the dark liquid into the cauldron of meatballs. In an instant, the original amber soup turned black ink.

At that moment, my heart missed a beat. This is not a food show. It is a chemical experiment accident.

It's over. It's all over. These four black balls don't look like "Sixi Maruko", like four meteorites that have just been dug out of the coal pile.

I stood there. He still holds a spoon in his hand. The rain outside the window began to fall. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The compressor of the refrigerator suddenly hummed loudly. My cat whined in the living room, as if laughing at me.

What to do? Throw it away? Two pounds of meat. And the damn meatballs I spent an hour rubbing.

Nope. I can't admit defeat.

I grabbed my phone. Fingers trembled and searched: "Braised meatballs are black, how to save them".

The search results are varied. Some say dilute with water. Some say add vinegar. Another comment said: "Dear, it is recommended to just pour it out and redo it here." ”

Thank you, stranger.

I took a deep breath. Since it's already dark, it makes sense to make it black. I remembered how my grandmother used to make stews. If the taste is too bitter, add some sour and sweet to balance it out.

I open the refrigerator. Take out half a bottle of apple cider vinegar. Poured. Grabbed another handful of brown sugar. Pour it hard. He even cut an apple and threw it into the pot.

"Dead horses should be living horse doctors." I said to myself.

Cover the lid. Simmer over low heat.

The next hour was a long ordeal. A strange smell fills the kitchen. It's like caramel mixed with vinegar and a little apple fragrance. I kept looking at my watch. Open the lid every five minutes and sniff it.

It's still a bit burnt. It seems to be a little lighter? Is that my hallucination?

The time is up. Turn off the heat.

I took my chopsticks and carefully picked up a meatball like a demineer. It is now dark reddish-brown, although still a little dark, but at least not like coal like just now. The soup became thick and hung on the meatballs, which actually had a little shine.

Take a bite.

Hot!

I stick out my tongue and circle around the kitchen.

Wait a little cooler. Take another bite.

The skin is a little tough. The juice inside bursts out all at once. Salty, sweet, and a hint of apple fruit acidity. That burnt bitterness? was masked. It even became a unique smoky flavor.

Oh my God. I can actually eat it.

Moreover, it is quite delicious.

This experience taught me a few things:

• Don't try a difficult Chinese meal on Tuesday night unless you want to stay up late to clean up the kitchen.
• The so-called "authentic" is sometimes a joke, and being able to save the dish is the real skill.
• The essence of cooking is not perfect reproduction, but the art of improvisation at the scene of a disaster.

I want to say to you, if you want to try this dish too, don't be afraid to make a mistake. Really. Even if you treat sugar as salt and vinegar as wine, as long as you are willing to take a bite and find a way to remedy it, then this meal has a soul. Those perfect, photo-like dishes often lack a little human touch. And my four black balls, although ugly, carry my panic, despair and final ecstasy that night.

What should you do next?

Don't just watch. Go to the kitchen.

If you also want to replicate this "disaster version" of Sixi Maruko, or if you want to try your own version, here is a little suggestion:

FAQ: What if I also stir-fry the sugar color?

• Q: Can it still be saved?
• Q: What happens if the meatballs fall apart?
• Q: Do I need special seasonings?

Now, I'm going to wash the dishes. The sink was filled with oil-stained basins and bowls. The cat was back and staring at the remaining half of the meatballs on the plate.

I think I want to try it too.

Or maybe it's just waiting for me to drop a piece on the ground.

Either way, the water is still dripping. I have to fix that faucet first.