One sunny morning, I sat alone on the sofa at home and read with relish. And my stomach is constantly resisting, and the refrigerator is empty. The idea in my heart arises spontaneously; Why don't you cook your own porridge? All right, let's get started. A satisfied smile appeared on my sad face.
Just start, I immediately washed the pot, put a bowl of rice, and put two bowls of water after washing. I put it on the gas stove, lit a fire, and a big stone that was calm in my heart finally fell slightly, and the task was finally half finished. I cooked slowly with a small fire and stood motionless in front of the stove. "It's been so long, why haven't you cooked yet?" I felt sorry for myself and turned to the biggest fire. After a while, I noticed a beautiful story book, The Story of Gratitude. I picked up the book and wolfed it down.
I don't know how long it took, but I took a casual look back. Oh, no, I forgot to watch the fire. All the bubbles came out. I washed the towel and carefully wiped the "naughty" bubbles. I turned the fire to a minimum, and at this time, the "Thanksgiving Story" made me feel worried, and I thought about it. What exactly does the title Meet express the author's thoughts and feelings? So did the hero and heroine finally meet? Can they live happily together in the end? ..... A series of questions come to mind. I quickly wiped the table and ran to the study like lightning.
After a while, I put down my book and ran to the kitchen. I was surprised to find that there was neither porridge nor rice in the pot. I thought there was less water, so I poured mineral water into it again. When the fire was turned off, suddenly a burning smell came to my nose. I don't care that much. I can't wait to pick up a bowl and put some porridge in it. I licked it, and a thick burning smell came to my nose. It turns out that the porridge is burnt.
2. Cooking eight-treasure porridge for mom 700-word composition Motherly love is eight-treasure porridge, which is valuable and priceless! !
Maternal love is great, mother is selfless, maternal love is meticulous, and maternal love is admirable.
There is a kind of love that never asks for anything in return-maternal love, and there is someone who deserves your love all your life-mother.
There is such a mother who chats with her son every day. She told him some childhood stories: swimming naked in the river and being stabbed by shrimp. She always remembers things he has forgotten, such as a few treasures.
She always spends a large part of her time cooking porridge for him every day. Use the longest, largest, full-grained, crystal clear and slightly turquoise rice grains. Carefully selected one by one. If she accidentally touches two fingers, she will put them back in the rice pile and choose again. Composition Jinguyuan She washed the rice pure and clean, then put it in a brown crock, poured in the precipitated spring water and cooked it slowly with firewood. The fire should not be too big, otherwise the porridge will be heated unevenly. She waited on the angry man meekly and delicately, just like a quiet and refined Jiangnan woman.
It usually takes two and a half hours to cook a can of porridge. She carefully poured the porridge into a flowered porcelain bowl, shaking her head and blowing into the porridge until she had difficulty breathing and the porridge was cold. She smiled and fed her son with a spoon, but his eyes closed and he turned her down coldly. Instead of being angry, she smiled as before.
The next day, I continued to pick rice, cook porridge, blow it cold, and accept the rejection. Day after day, year after year. Her fingers have become rough and dull, her shaking head is all white, and her strength is not as good as before. It is often that when the porridge is cold in the middle, it is out of breath, and it is necessary to use a fan to cool the second half. But her son turned her down coldly. She kept smiling and never shed a tear.
This confrontation between enthusiasm and indifference lasted for 8 years and 73 days. In the eighth year and 74 days, she was telling her son the story of his childhood. His son suddenly opened his eyes and said vaguely, "Mom, I want porridge." She burst into tears-that was the first thing the doctor said after he announced his brain death. The doctor said that in his case, there is only one chance in 100,000.
My son ate porridge cooked by his mother that day. In fact, porridge is not as delicious as she described, slightly burnt and salty tears. You can imagine how restless my mother is.
The story doesn't end here. Three months later, just when her son could take care of himself, his mother died. When you leave, hold your son's hand. Smile calmly and serenely. My son found his mother's medical record when he was cleaning up his relics. In fact, more than seven years ago, after my son fell asleep for more than a year, unfortunately, he came to this family again-his mother was diagnosed with advanced liver cancer.
What belief can support a woman with advanced liver cancer to fight the disease for seven years? The doctor said it was a miracle. My son knows that it is a poor and noble, ordinary but great mother who creates miracles!
Motherly love is eight-treasure porridge, eight-treasure porridge is valuable, and maternal love is priceless! !
On this special day, I want to say Happy Mother's Day to my mother! May mom be healthier and happier in the future!
3. The first porridge composition is 600 words [the first porridge composition is 600 words] Everyone has many firsts, the first time to go to school; First job; Get paid for the first time; The first stitch ... what impressed me the most was the first time I cooked porridge and wrote a composition of 600 words for the first time.
One sunny morning, I sat alone on the sofa at home and read with relish. And my stomach is constantly resisting, and the refrigerator is empty. The idea in my heart arises spontaneously; Why don't you cook your own porridge? All right, let's get started. A satisfied smile appeared on my sad face.
Just start, I immediately washed the pot, put a bowl of rice, and put two bowls of water after washing. I put it on the gas stove, lit a fire, and a big stone that was calm in my heart finally fell slightly, and the task was finally half finished. I cooked slowly with a small fire and stood motionless in front of the stove for a long time. Why haven't I done it yet? I felt sorry for myself and turned to the biggest fire. After a while, my eyes caught a glimpse of a beautiful story book, a story of gratitude, and a composition of the first grade of junior high school, the first 600-word porridge composition. I picked up the book and wolfed it down.
I don't know how long it took, but I took a casual look back. Oh, no, I forgot to watch the fire. All the bubbles came out. I washed the towel and carefully wiped the naughty bubbles. I turned the fire to a minimum, and at this time, the "Thanksgiving Story" made me feel worried, and I thought about it. What exactly does the title Meet express the author's thoughts and feelings? So did the hero and heroine finally meet? Can they live happily together in the end? ..... A series of questions come to mind. I quickly wiped the table and ran to the study like lightning.
After a while, I put down my book and ran to the kitchen. I was surprised to find that there was neither porridge nor rice in the pot. I thought there was less water, so I poured mineral water into it again. When the fire was turned off, suddenly a burning smell came to my nose. I don't care that much. I can't wait to pick up a bowl and put some porridge in it. I licked it, and a thick burning smell came to my nose. It turns out that the porridge is burnt. Day 1: Yan Yating
4. Make a 700-word composition for my mother. My mother doesn't have big eyes. On the contrary, her eyes are small. If she smiles, she will become a crack. My mother doesn't have "curved eyebrows" either, because she is old. She is over 70 years old this year and has almost no eyebrows.
At this point, some students began to laugh. I didn't stop talking about my mother.
My mother's mouth is not small. On the contrary, it is very big, even bigger than Sebrina's big mouth. Because she is also very old, she has lost a lot of teeth, her facial muscles are flabby and her mouth often cracks, so she actually looks bigger.
More students laughed. I paused for a moment, and when they laughed, I said slowly, "But she's still my mother.
She loves me very much. She often cooks porridge for me, and I love her very much. "At this time, the classroom suddenly quieted down.
I know that something slipped into the child's heart lake like water. I said that the composition is actually a bowl of porridge cooked by my mother.
I am a child who grew up in the countryside. When I was ten years older than you, my mother would cook for me after school every day. When I was a child, I used a stove burning wheat straw to cook at home. My mother always puts the wheat straw into the stove by hand, then puts her hands on the apron and rubs it back and forth, while picking up the noodles and pulling them into the pot.
Because the grass ash on your hands is often not cleaned, it is inevitable that some patches will be stained with black when eating, which looks very unclean. Every time I eat "black noodles", I always remind my mother to wash her hands before pulling. My mother is always embarrassed to say yes while eating.
But next time, you can still eat "black noodles". So many times, I don't like my mother's cooking.
Later, I left my hometown to go to school in other places and began to work. More than 20 years have passed, and I am almost forty years old, and my mother is over seventy years old. Every time I go back to my hometown these years, my mother still insists on cooking for me. The difference is that the stove burning wheat straw has long been replaced by the stove burning coal.
Seeing my mother cooking, she seems to have forgotten the tongs for holding coal. She still picked up the coal and put it in the stove, then put her hands on the apron and rubbed it back and forth, while picking up the noodles and pulling them into the pot. I ate my mother's "black noodles" again, and I didn't even feel dirty at all. I swallowed several bowls at a time. I think the rice cooked by my mother is the best in the world. My mother's love is that a bowl of rice fills my stomach.
The classroom was very quiet and the children listened carefully. I said that the composition is actually a bowl of porridge cooked by my mother.
Today, each of us will start to cook our own porridge. Although it may not be delicious, it may be mixed with some "black noodles", but because we didn't buy it from a restaurant or take it from someone else's house, we made it ourselves because of love, and each has its own taste, which is great. After more than ten years of education, I feel like cooking porridge.
At first, I squatted by the side of the road alone, and occasionally pedestrians passed by and stopped to ask me what I was doing. I said I wanted to cook a bowl of porridge, and he said you had nothing. I said yes, but I really want to cook a bowl of porridge.
He said, let me give you a pot. After a while, another pedestrian passed by and stopped to ask me what I was doing. I said I wanted to cook a bowl of porridge, and he said you only had one pot.
I said yes, but I really want to cook a bowl of porridge. He said, let me send you some rice.
Pedestrians kept passing by, some hurried by, and some stopped to help me. Someone brought me water, someone helped me make a fire, and a bowl of porridge was cooked like this.
Thanks to my parents, but also to more kind people who love me and care about my growth like my parents, and accompany me to cook porridge all the way. I also hope that more good people will cook this bowl of educational porridge together.
5. Learn to make eight-treasure porridge in the second volume of Chinese composition in the third grade. On Sunday, I finished my homework and heard my mother say that we would drink eight-treasure porridge tomorrow. I asked my mother to teach me how to do it, and my mother agreed.
This is my first time cooking eight-treasure porridge. Under the guidance of my mother, I first scooped out half a small bowl of rice from the rice jar, then put it in a small pot and washed it in the pot. My mother says Taomi water is the best for growing flowers. I knew what my mother meant, so I took out the bottle next to the flower and poured it carefully. Mother is very nervous. I'm afraid I'll pour out all the rice and keep telling me to be careful. Then I added peanuts, oats, adzuki beans and other whole grains. Then I put the pot on its seat (stove), turned on the fire and covered it with a glass cover. Soon, my mother pulled me into the kitchen. I saw a lot of bubbles under the lid, rising from around the lid. Mom asked me to open the lid first, and then turn down the heat and wait.
About an hour passed and a pot of delicious eight-treasure porridge came out. I shouted happily, "Come and try the eight-treasure porridge cooked by chef Chen Yueyi." Mom and dad both laughed.
6. Eight-treasure porridge composition Eight-treasure porridge Tonight, my mother cooked a pot of eight-treasure porridge.
I ate and asked, "Dad, was the eight-treasure porridge invented by the chef?" Dad said, "No. This is a long story.
There is an allusion here. "So my father told me this story.
It turns out that there was an emperor named Zhu Yuanzhang in ancient times. When he was a child, his family was poor.
One year on the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, he was so hungry that he looked for something to eat everywhere. Suddenly, he saw a fat mouse.
He thought that if rats eat fat, there must be something delicious. So, he found a wooden stick from home and broke the mouse hole, but found many kinds of grains such as soybeans, peanuts and rice in it. He dug up all those grains, washed them, made a bowl of porridge and ate them.
He enjoyed the meal very much. However, he thought, he can't always eat mice.
So he joined the army, launched a peasant uprising, overthrew the Yuan Dynasty, established the Ming Dynasty and became an emperor. He ate all the delicious food.
Finally, he got tired of eating those delicious dishes. One day, he remembered the bowl of porridge cooked by miscellaneous grains dug out of the mouse hole when he was a child.
He immediately asked the chef to cook porridge according to the ingredients he wrote down. The porridge is cooked, but he still eats well.
He is very happy. He also ordered the chef to cook a large pot of such porridge for the ministers.
Ministers also think it's delicious, so they will cook it for their children and wives when they go back. In this way, the formula of eight-treasure porridge has been passed down from mouth to mouth, from mouth to mouth, to the people, and has been passed down to today.
Now, every family eats this porridge on the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month. People named it "Babao porridge", also called "Laba porridge".
After listening to the story told by my father, I finally understood the origin of eight-treasure porridge.
7. Making Eight-treasure Porridge Composition Making Eight-treasure Porridge Today, my parents are out, and I am the only one at home.
After hard work, I finally finished the homework assigned by my mother. Look at the table, 12! I ran to the kitchen, opened the menu and found a nutritious dish: eight-treasure porridge.
At first, I found out the whole grains from the cupboard, including peanuts, mung beans, soybeans and so on. Now I can feast my eyes! I put the whole grains in the pot and saw these "little guys" jumping around in the pot, which was very interesting. Glug, glug, a burst of fragrance came to the nose. It turns out that the eight-treasure porridge is cooked.
I shouted like I was on TV: "Dinner is ready, five-color eight-treasure porridge!" " ! I tasted it, well, it was delicious! I eat eight-treasure porridge by myself, which is sweeter than honey.
8. First Cooking Composition First Cooking
Since I entered school, I have experienced many firsts, such as the first exam, the first prize, the first time surfing the Internet, the first time ... However, what impressed me most was the first cooking. Every time I think about it, I always smile.
This is a Sunday. My parents are not at home. I don't think I have ever helped my mother with the housework. This is a good opportunity. Let's cook a pot of rice and show it to my parents to make them happy.
Let's do it. I'll take out a pot of rice first. I heard my mother say that I should wash rice two or three times before cooking, so I learned from my mother to wash rice. But every time I wash rice, some "naughty boys" run away along the water. So after washing the rice, the rice is one third less. I poured the washed rice into the rice cooker, plugged it in and surfed the Internet myself.
Just as I was rushing hard, I didn't know where there was a "crack" sound. I followed the sound and found it coming from the kitchen. I immediately thought of the pot of rice and opened the lid. Oh, my God, is this my cooking? The colors are black and yellow. After tasting it, it is as hard as some pebbles. what can I do? I'm as anxious as a cat on hot bricks. I don't know what to do. Just when I was worried, my parents came back. My mother asked me, "Xingjian, what are you doing?" I said hesitantly, "I … I … do … do …" Hey, what's that smell? "My mother asked warily and came to the kitchen with my father. When I saw it, I understood everything. "Ha ha ha ....." I laughed so hard that my mother, who loves to laugh, burst into tears and my father bent down with laughter. Later, I learned that it was because I forgot to add water to the pot before cooking that it burned like this.
I think: what can't be done can only be successful if you observe with heart and learn with humility. This isn't it? There are four divisions of water under "boiling"
9. It's my first time to cook. How to write 400 words in my fourth grade composition?
On June 29, I remembered what the teacher often said, "Go home and help mom and dad do what they can." And at the beginning of this semester, I told my mother that I would learn to cook. Mom said at that time: "You are still young, I will teach you in the summer vacation." I suddenly have an impulse to learn to cook today. I went to ask my mother, and my mother said happily, "OK, let dad teach you!" " "
I took my father's hand into the kitchen and asked him to teach me how to cook. Dad began to teach me to cook. Dad said, "Wash the bowl and pressure cooker first, and then grab a clean bowl to catch rice." I washed the bowl and pressure cooker in the order my father said, and then took the bowl to grab rice. I asked my father how many handfuls of rice he had caught. My father said, "Your hands are too small. Grab six handfuls of rice. " So I grabbed six handfuls of rice and put them in a bowl. Dad told me to put the bowl under the tap to wash rice. I asked strangely, "Why do you want to wash rice?" Dad replied, "Because there is something dirty in the rice, we should wash it clean." The water in the bowl was turbid for the first time, but the rice in the bowl was much cleaner for the second time. Dad asked me to pour rice into the pressure cooker. I don't know how much water to mix. Dad said, "The three of us are in a bowl. When you were young, you mixed half a bowl, and you mixed two and a half bowls of water. " Then I put the lid on the pot and took it to the gas stove.
When I started cooking, my father asked me to turn off the gas and light it. When the water in the pot boils, I will turn it down. After a while, I heard steam coming out of the pot and went to turn down the fire. Dad added, "When the fire is turned off in eight minutes, the meal will be cooked." I looked at the wall. It was exactly 8: 30. I want to cook the meal early, so I keep looking at the time on the wall, but the time is always less than eight minutes, which seems to be bad for me. I've been running around making my parents laugh. After cooking for eight minutes, I turned off the fire and put the pressure cooker down on the table. I'm busy trying to boil the pot to see if my cooking is good. Dad quickly stopped and said, "Don't move, you will burn people. You must wait until the air pressure drops before you can open the lid." Dad's words startled me, and I quickly pulled my hand back. After a while, the air pressure dropped, so I opened the lid and took a bowl to hold rice. I gave my father and mother Kazuhiro Mori bowls. I just filled a small bowl. Then soak in water in the pot. At this time, my father cooked the meal and shouted, "Eat! Eat! "
Our family began to eat. Mother said while eating, "My daughter's cooking is really delicious!" Dad went on to say, "Well! It is similar to the first time I cooked. " He also pretended to be a wolf, and made my mother and I laugh so hard that we almost threw up our meals. I am glad to see my parents happy. I thought to myself, doing housework is really interesting. I will do more housework for my parents in the future.
It's my first time to cook.
When I came home from school in the afternoon and saw no one at home, it occurred to me that I would help my parents cook dinner tonight! With this in mind, I began to prepare. Because I have usually seen my mother cook, I will recall my mother's cooking steps and follow these slowly. I first measured the rice and put it in a basin for washing; After washing rice, I put the rice in the pot and then add water. However, I don't know how much water to put. I'm afraid if I put too little water, it won't be cooked. If I put too much water, it will be cooked into porridge. I thought about it, and finally put a lot of water, left the lid open, plugged in the power supply, and waited for the rice to be cooked. I was there thinking about lifting the lid and looking at the delicious rice.
When my mother came back from work, the rice had been cooked, but I opened the lid and found that the rice I cooked had turned into porridge.
The first time I cooked rice, I screwed up, but after all, I took the first step of cooking by myself.