Pork Back in Pork: My Kitchen Disaster Film (and That Damn Numbness)

His throat was like swallowing a handful of red-hot sand. Really. It hurts hot.

Is this the original intention of I want to make Sichuan taro skin sweet and sour pork? Absolutely not. I just saw the picture when I was watching the video: the crystal clear taro skin was wrapped in shiny pork belly, and the red oil was sizzling. It's so tempting. I miss that taste. Miss that feeling of making your lips dance. So I went to the supermarket. Bought meat. Bought those taro skins that looked like wide vermicelli. And a bunch of bottles I don't recognize.

The excitement lasted about ten minutes. Until I stood in front of the stove, holding a knife in my hand, looking at the piece of pork belly.

Cause? It's ridiculously simple. Recommended by friends. She said, "You have to try." This is the soul of Sichuan. "Okay. soul. I now feel like my soul is being fried in chili oil.

Here comes the challenge. Typical ordinary person mistakes? Hah. I committed more than one. I committed a full set of crimes.

First, I didn't cook the meat for long enough. Hurry up and slice. As a result, the meat stuck to the knife and was torn into a mess. Like torn old clothes. And then, the worst part.

I mixed up the seasoning.

Really. That little bottle. It all looks the same. Brown powder. I thought it was allspice. It smells pretty good too. I threw a big handful. A whole handful. Pour directly into the hot oil.

etc.

The air has changed.

It's not incense. It's hemp. That feeling of an electric current passing through the tongue. My lips started to vibrate. It's like licking a battery. 9-volt battery.

"What is this?" I talk to myself. The voice was a little shaky.

The phone rang. It's spam text messages. I ignored it. The cat meowed in the corner. Annoying.

I took a small sip of the oil in the pan.

** mistake. Big one. Oh god.**

That's Sichuan peppercorns. Pure Sichuan peppercorns. Not powder, but ground granules. I treated it like a regular spice. Now the whole pot of meat is shaking. My tongue too.

Panic. Absolute panic.

• I hurriedly rummaged through the refrigerator, hoping to find some antidote. Milk? Nope. Only expired yogurt.
• Almost knocked over that bottle of expensive soy sauce. Hands are shaking. It's really shaking.

I want to give up. Really. Turn off the pot. Order takeout. Pizza. Safe pizza. Pizza without numbness.

But wait. That fragrance. Although it is numb, it is really fragrant. The charred aroma of the meat is mixed with the strength of the chili pepper. It cannot be wasted.

The twist? A flash of inspiration. Or nonsense in despair.

I remember watching a video. It is said that sugar neutralizes spiciness. What about numbness? Forget it. Make every possible effort.

I grabbed a handful of sugar. Not a small spoon. It's a handful. Sprinkle it directly.

hissed. White smoke rises.

Then I added some more vinegar. By feeling. About two spoons? Maybe three spoons.

"I hope it works." I said to the empty kitchen.

The cat barked again. This time it was louder. It's like laughing at me.

I continued to fry. Pour the taro skin in. Those transparent skins instantly sucked up red oil. Become chubby. Soft and glutinous.

Solved? I don't know. can only taste.

I picked up a piece. Blow it. Put it in your mouth.

At this moment, the world is quiet.

It's no longer just hemp. It's not just spicy. It is a complex symphony. The sweetness of sugar supports the intensity of Sichuan peppercorns, and the sourness of vinegar lifts the aroma of meat. The bark bounces in the mouth. Like dancing.

Food is not just about taste, it's that glimmer of order that you grasp in the chaos.

Well, this sentence is a bit pretentious. But I really thought so at the time.

So that you don't turn your kitchen into a chemistry lab like I did, I sorted out the mess just now. Look at this comparison and you will know how big the difference is:

You see, the table is clear. But I didn't know what I was thinking at the time.

There are two more points I must emphasize, the lessons of blood and tears:

• Never, never pour powder into a pan when you can't see the label clearly. Especially Sichuan seasonings. They look too alike.
• Prepare milk or soy milk. It's at hand. Don't be like me who only has expired yogurt. That didn't work. It's really useless.

The result? The plate is empty.

I ate while sitting on the floor. Because the chair is too hard and I want to be closer to the cat. It finally stopped barking and was staring at the last piece of meat in my hand.

Taste? Amazing. Really. Although my tongue is still a little numb, like half a bottle of anesthetic. But that kind of satisfaction. Indescribable. The meat is charred, the skin is soft and glutinous, and the sauce is so rich that you want to lick the plate.

What did I learn from this experience?

Maybe it's not a big deal. Cooking is just that. You'll mess up. You will use peppercorns as flour. You'll want to give up.

But as long as you don't burn the house, as long as you're willing to add another spoonful of sugar and a little vinegar, things will always get better.

FAQ / Action Suggestions

If you want to try it too, don't follow me.

1. Q: Where to buy tao bark?
2. Q: What should I do if it's too numb?
3. Q: Can I go without pork?

Now, I'm going to have a glass of water.

And so on.

The faucet seems to be dripping.

drops. drops. drops.

Like the rhythm of peppercorns beating on the tip of the tongue just now.

I have to go fix it. Or leave it alone.

That piece of meat was delicious. Another piece?