I'd barely gotten back to the house and sat down to savor the fat haul I'd just landed when a booming shout came from outside the door.
"Chunzhu, buddy, you home? Open up quick. Us brothers are all set, just waiting on you. Don't want to miss the ice fishing."
"Coming, coming."
I got up and opened the door. Outside stood Donkey, bundled in his cotton coat, Iron Egg, Rock and Dummy behind him, all stamping their feet and rubbing their hands. Bulging cloth bundles and gunny sacks piled at their feet.
"Finally tracked you down." Donkey grinned and clapped my arm. "We're heading to the Ussuri River tonight to ice fish. Camping out the whole night. Rods, ice picks, cookware, all ready. Chip open a hole, pull up some fish, and stew them right there on the spot. Nice and hot."
That's exactly my kind of night.
I turned and quickly threw on the thick duck down army coat the team had issued me, grabbed a few potatoes and a handful of eggs to stuff in my pockets, brought out the half-cooked stewed chicken, grabbed a bundle of glass noodles, and finally took my hunting rifle down off the wall and slung it over my shoulder. Snapped on my dog fur hat to cover my ears good and warm, and only then headed out with my load.
The winter countryside was one vast blanket of white, the little path filled level with snow. One step in and it swallowed you to the ankle.
On the way, Iron Egg, the youngest, came bouncing over. "Chunzhu, big brother, first time ice fishing with us, right? Our Ussuri River ice fishing is one of a kind. Cold as it is, anything that can survive under the ice is a big fish. Every one of them, not a single little fry. Chip open a hole and shine a flashlight down there, and the fish go crazy swimming toward the light. You just wait to haul them in."
He proudly hoisted his blue cloth bundle. "Pots, pans, bowls, big plastic sheet, brought it all. Get there and we throw up a shelter to block the wind and snow. Way better than freezing out on the ice."
I hunched my neck and tugged my hat down. "This snow's way too heavy. Only December and it's already this deep. Haven't seen the like in all my years in the capital. It's got to be a good fifteen, sixteen degrees colder here than the capital. You talk and your breath comes out white."
Rock chimed in. "Used to it. Winter's more than half the year around here. Cold from November clear to the end of the following March. Ground frozen too hard to dig, and the mine doesn't dare start up, afraid of accidents. Only eight months of work all told. That's why a lot of sent-down youths like coming to our team."
Iron Post added with a laugh, "Once the autumn harvest is in and there's no heavy work, drinking, cards, fishing, hunting. Easy and free. Way more relaxed than those teams grinding hard year round."
The group chatted and laughed, and in twenty-some minutes we reached the river.
The second I stepped onto the ice, it took my breath away. The wide, boundless river surface was sheathed in thick ice, smooth as a mirror, reflecting the white snow and the far-off trees. Scattered points of firelight dotted the ice like stars in the night sky, distant figures moving about, snatches of laughter and the sound of rods carrying over. Lively as anything.
"Don't mind them." Donkey patted my shoulder. "They're all here to ice fish. Some old-timers from our team, and some folks from the Russian side across the way. Soon as it gets cold and the river locks up, folks from both banks like to come, for the fun of it and to catch a few fish to add some meat to the family table."
His face turned serious and he gave an earnest warning. "Walking on the ice, watch out for those wooden stakes. They mark where holes have been chipped. Even after those spots freeze back over, they're never as solid as the original. And if you step through and go down, cold water like this saps your strength in a couple of minutes. You can't even climb back out. Keep your wits about you."
Up ahead, Donkey stopped and called back. "Chunzhu, easy now. Mind the ice under your feet. Just up ahead's the fishing spot we picked out yesterday. See those four wooden poles? Stuck them in on purpose yesterday. Saves us the scramble today."
The words had barely left his mouth when Rock and Dummy hoisted the plastic sheet and got to work throwing up a rough shelter around the poles, weighing the edges down tight with big rocks, laying a few thin boards over the top to keep off the snow. Quick and practiced. In no time a windbreak shelter was done, and the cold wind was shut out at once, a good deal warmer inside.
Donkey, Iron Egg and Iron Post weren't idle either. They pulled an iron pot and firewood out of the gunny sacks, set the pot up on the ice, struck a match, and the flames leapt up crackling, lighting their faces red.
"Chunzhu, big brother, we quick or what?" Iron Egg came over beaming. "Once we pull up some fish, we stew them right on the spot. Fresh caught, fresh cooked. Throw in frozen tofu, pickled cabbage, plus the potatoes and glass noodles you brought, bubbling away in the pot. That flavor is unbeatable."
I watched the dancing flames and got into it too. "That I know. Chicken stewed with mushrooms, iron pot stewed goose, pork stewed with glass noodles, and stewed fish. The four great northeastern stews. I'd heard of their fame even back in the capital."
"That's right." Donkey nodded away. "Us northeasterners love our stews, especially chicken stewed with mushrooms. We've even got an old saying. Son-in-law walks in, the chicken meets its end. The son-in-law shows up and you slaughter a chicken to stew with mushrooms for him. Give it a couple of days for the snow to let up and I'll take you up the mountain to shoot pheasant and pick hazel mushrooms. Stew you up an authentic pot. Guarantee one bite and you can't stop."
He smacked his lips and added, "And if we're lucky enough to catch catfish tonight, back home I'll have my ma stew catfish with eggplant. Catfish stewed with eggplant, the old man drools himself to death over it. That eggplant soaks full of fish broth. So good it'll have you putting away two extra bowls of rice."
I sat at the edge of the shelter listening to them go back and forth, watching the flames dance, and suddenly I sort of got why northeasterners tend to be tall and big-built. Folks here can really eat, and they really know how to eat.
In just twenty-some minutes, the water in the pot came bubbling to a boil. The guys crowded around the fire, warming their hands, while not far off, in four ice holes, fish hooks dangled quietly in the clear river water.