My mother-in-law said that her father also fell to his death in a cave five years after her youngest uncle. But the job of gathering swallows’ nests didn’t stop just because someone died. She could not continue her father’s line of work, but didn’t want to depend on her uncles either. So, on one hot summer day, carrying the colossal nest stained with her uncle’s blood, she set off on a long journey of her own. She was fourteen years old.
My mother-in-law said that, under normal circumstances, she could never have become a famous chef of swallows’ nests, for those heart-breaking, soul-stirring scenes flew past her eyes every time she plucked impurities from a nest with a needle. She was able to cook every nest with extreme respect and care only because she knew the bitter hardships – those of the swallows and those of the nest-gatherers – behind each one. She had gained invaluable experience in regard to swallows’ nests. But deep down she was uneasy. The connection between the nests and human brains made her uncomfortable, feelings that disappeared only after Liquorland accomplished the glorious coup of cooking and eating meat boys.
Clearly worried, my mother-in-law said, 'The demand for swallows’ nests in mainland China rose sharply in the 1990s, while the occupation of gathering the nests in southern China all but disappeared. Now the gatherers take modern equipment like hydraulic lifts into the caves, which not only destroy the nests but kill the swallows in the process. There are, in fact, no more nests to be harvested in China, Under these circumstances, China must import huge quantities of nests from Southeast Asia to supply the demands of the Chinese people, and that has caused the price of swallow’s nest to skyrocket. In Hong Kong, each kilogram costs twenty-five hundred US dollars and the price keeps going up. That, in turn, has driven the gatherers in other countries into a gathering frenzy. In the old days, my father and his brothers only harvested nests once a year, but now gatherers in Thailand harvest them four times annually. Twenty years from now, children will no longer know what a swallow’s nest looks like, my mother- in-law said as she finished the soup in her bowl
I said, As a matter of fact, even today, there are no more than a thousand Chinese children who have tasted swallow’s nest. The availability of the stuff doesn’t matter to the average person, or to the masses. So why worry about it?
Chapter Eight
I
Dear Elder Brother Yidou
I received and have read your story and your letter.
After reading Swallows’ Nests.’ a parade of thoughts thronged my mind. When I was a child, my granddad told me that when rich people sit down to eat, their tables are filled with things like camel’s hooves, bear’s paw, monkey brains, swallow’s nest, and things like that. I’ve seen a camel, and I have no reason to doubt that their big, meaty hooves make for good eating, though I’ve never had the good fortune of tasting one. Once, as a child, I ate a horse’s hoof my second brother secretly cut off of a dead horse and brought home from his production brigade. Of course, we didn’t have a famous chef to prepare it, so my mother just boiled it in water with some salt. There wasn’t much meat on it, so I filled up on the broth. Still, it left a lasting impression, one I invariably bring up with my brother when we’re together at New Year’s, as if the delightful flavor still lay on my tongue. That was in i960, at the beginning of the famine, which is probably why the memory has stayed with me so long. As for bear’s paw, a couple of years ago an industrialist invited me to dinner at his home, and when the last dish was carried in, a plate of black lumpy things, he announced with great solemnity, This is bear’s paw, brought specially all the way from Heilongjiang. Excitedly, I picked up a piece with my chopsticks, put it in my mouth, and savored it slowly. It was sticky and mushy, neither particularly fragrant nor particularly foul-tasting, sort of like a pig’s leg tendons. But I raved about it to my host anyway. He picked up a piece, tasted it, and announced, 'It didn’t swell the way it should.' He criticized the chef for not being up to par. I was too embarrassed to ask him what he meant by ‘swell.’ Some time later, I asked a friend who worked in a Beijing restaurant what it meant to ‘swell’ something. He told me I’d eaten dried bear’s paw, which had to swell first. Fresh bear’s paw, on the other hand, doesn’t require it, but it’s still hard to prepare. If you obtain some fresh bear’s paw, he said, you have to dig a hole in the ground, line it with pieces of limestone, then put the bear’s paw inside and cover it with more limestone, which you douse with warm water until it’s hot enough to crack; that’s the only way to loosen the bristly hairs enough to pluck them out. He said that eating bear’s paw requires patience, since the softer it is, the better it tastes. If it’s planned for dinner, you need to begin stewing it at dawn. That’s too much trouble, if you ask me. I recall that my granddad also said that, since bears stop eating in the winter, they lick their paws to quell any hunger pangs, which is why they’re so treasured. But I have my doubts about that. As for monkey brains, I used to think they were just that, the brains of a monkey. But then someone said it was a sort of tree fungus. That’s something I’ve never eaten, although I have taken monkey brain fungus tablets for my stomach problem. Not long ago, I met someone from a pharmaceutical company on the train, and he said there was no way they could gather enough monkey brain fiingus to meet the demand, so they simply lace it with wood-ear fungus or dried mushrooms. That surprised me, since I never dreamed that even medicine was adulterated. If they’ll adulterate medicines, what can we expect to be unadulterated? The last thing I want to talk about are those frightful swallows’ nests. I’ve never seen one and never eaten one. In the novel
But back to the issue at hand. In my view, ‘Swallows’ Nests’ is still too political, and if I were you, I’d empty my belly of every vestige of passion and rewrite it. Gathering swallows’ nests, an ancient and endangered profession replete with mystery and legend, could make a wonderful story. For emphasis, focus on the mystery and the legends.
My superior has more or less agreed to let me visit Liquorland. But I can’t leave until I’ve finished the draft of my novel. I’ve committed the date of your first Ape Liquor Festival to memory, and will be finished in time to attend.
I’m returning your manuscript by express special delivery. Please let me know when it arrives.
Wishing you success with your writing,
Mo Yan
