My Own Little Dance with Ejiao
Alright, so you hear things, you know? People buzzing about this Ejiao stuff. My aunt, bless her heart, she swears by it. Said it did wonders for her, made her all glowy or something. I was feeling a bit rundown, truth be told. Like my get-up-and-go got up and went. So, I thought, “Okay, let’s see what this fuss is all about.” I decided to give it a go myself and see if it lived up to the hype.
First off, getting my hands on it wasn’t like grabbing a soda from the corner store. I actually went looking for it. I remember heading to this traditional shop, the kind that smells like a thousand years of herbs. The old guy behind the counter, he looked at me, nodded like he knew exactly what I needed before I even opened my mouth. He pulls out this block, dark, kinda shiny. Looked like a weird, ancient chocolate bar. It wasn’t cheap either; it cost a pretty penny, let me tell you. Not exactly an impulse buy.
Then came the whole ritual of preparing it. This wasn’t a “just add water” kind of deal. Oh no. I had to get out the special pot, the one you’re supposed to use for nothing else. My wife was looking at me like I’d finally lost it. I remember the steps quite vividly:
- First, I had to break off a piece. That stuff is hard! I recall struggling a bit, felt like I was trying to chip a rock.
- Then, I soaked it. For hours. I watched it get all gooey and weird.
- After that, I simmered it, very, very slowly. I added some other bits and pieces – some red dates, a few goji berries, some walnuts, things people said would go well with it. My kitchen smelled… interesting. Not bad, exactly, but definitely unique. My kid even asked if I was making some kind of potion.
Taking the stuff. Okay, so once all that simmering was done, it ended up as a thick, sweet-ish jelly. I decided I’d have a spoonful every morning. I was pretty diligent about it, like a good soldier. For weeks, I stuck to this routine. Every morning, that spoonful of dark, wobbly stuff. My wife would just shake her head and sip her coffee, probably thinking I was nuts.
So, the big question: did it work? Did I suddenly feel like I could run a marathon or solve world hunger? Honestly? It’s hard to say definitively. I think I maybe felt a bit less like a zombie in the mornings. My energy levels seemed a little more stable, perhaps. My skin? Maybe a tiny bit better, or maybe it was just the lighting, or plain old wishful thinking. It wasn’t like a magic pill, you know? There was no sudden, dramatic transformation. My aunt still swears it’s the best thing since sliced bread. Me? I’m still a bit on the fence, to be honest.
It was an experience, that’s for sure. A lot of effort went into it, from sourcing to preparation. It was a bit of a project. Was it worth all that? Well, for something that might have helped a little, or might have just been a really expensive, time-consuming placebo, it’s a tough call. I guess sometimes you try these things because everyone else is, or because you’re hoping for that little bit of an edge, that little boost. And who knows, maybe it did something subtle that I just didn’t fully appreciate at the time. Or maybe my aunt just has a stronger constitution, or it works differently for different folks. One thing’s for sure, preparing it was a whole production. I felt like an ancient alchemist in my kitchen for a few weeks there. Would I do it again? Hmm, ask me next time I’m feeling really, really rundown. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just try getting more sleep and eating a bit better. Those are proven, and a lot less hassle, right?
