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Yesterday, a distant relative got married, and my old Yang Dian went to the wedding reception. Finally, I left a message: Eat by yourself, and I will go to the banquet. ...

I gave him a dirty look. I don't think I've ever had a banquet in my life. On weekdays, two people cook, and suddenly they become a person who is full and the whole family is not hungry. I really don't know the quantity. I cooked too much. The remaining noodles have to be put in the refrigerator first.

In the evening, the first thing Lao Yang said when he came back was, "Do you have any noodles? Give me the next bowl? "

I saw that his face was full of alcohol, and my heart suddenly gloated: "After eating the banquet, you still have your own poor rice in your eyes?"

Lao Yang gently "alas", this life is too sad, all planted in a bowl of noodles, and the banquet at home is no better than a bowl of noodles.

Lao Yang's noodles refer to the slender noodles he has eaten for decades, commonly known as "sour soup noodles".

In order to be more exquisite, rice is filled in small bowls with a diameter of two or three inches, and each bowl has only one bite, which is called "a mouthful of incense". Noodles are as thin as silk, as tough as pu, and smooth. The soup is very clear, the noodles are very white, red pepper and green vegetables are on top, and the saliva just gurgles out.

Mother-in-law's skill in making handmade noodles is famous in the village. The noodles are very good and the taste is pure. Lao Yang was raised by her skills.

Nowadays, the technology of making long noodles is gradually replaced by the noodle press. Occasionally, I will make a less authentic one. While sucking, Lao Yang couldn't help feeling that the taste of childhood was too memorable.

I lightly blame him for being melodramatic. Now that we are rich in materials and have more food and drink, we feel that the food is not fragrant. Lao Yang just laughed, you don't know, taste is the most loyal night watchman in the family. I firmly believe that.

02

On the weekend, eldest brother called to say that he would go back to his hometown, and the family in the kitchen was very busy.

The whole family knows that he also likes to eat "sour soup handmade noodles" made by his mother-in-law.

Mother-in-law, of course While kneading the dough, she taught the younger generation skills: add a small amount of alkaline noodles to the dough to make it moderately soft and hard, and leave it for a while to fully blend the water and flour, so that the noodles will be soft and elastic. Old vinegar Chili noodles should be fried with chopped green onion in an oil pan. ...

While listening, I lamented the inheritance of the kitchen hand-held skills.

At the dinner table, eldest brother was eating noodles, and the sound was so loud that the family couldn't help laughing: "Slow down, a lot!" " After "sucking" three bowls in one breath, he put down his chopsticks and sighed: "I haven't eaten authentic sour soup noodles at home for several years, but today I am addicted and carefree! "Then wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Neighbors from the same village who came to visit Big Brother quipped, "your officials are all at the level. You haven't eaten any precious bird's nest and abalone, so why can't you put down a bowl of noodles at home? "

Eldest brother leisurely tunnel: "once the sea was difficult for water, it was always amber. When I was a child, I ate sour soup noodles at home, and no matter how good the food was ..."

Everyone praised the big brother for being grounded. No matter how much money the official has, a bowl of noodles can comfort him.

This is about the smell of home. No matter how high you fly, no matter how far you go, there is always a smell pulling your heart.

03

For me, the lingering taste is that my mother's diced pork and potato soup stirred the ball.

Every time I call my mother to tell her that I'm going home, she hangs up in a hurry: "I messed you up."

Stir-fried noodles is a local snack. Pour it into a pot and stir it into a firm and soft dough. Dip it in fruit juice and eat it with vegetables. Sour, spicy, fresh, fragrant, lasting, refreshing and enjoyable. In addition to the dry dipping method mentioned above, my mother is good at frying a pot of diced meat and potato soup, which is mixed.

When I left home this Spring Festival, my mother said, let's stay for another day. You haven't had enough minced meat and potato soup.

My nose is sour, my eyes blink hard, and my mother makes a mess. I'm afraid I won't have enough to eat in this life, even if I have another life.

I don't know when this taste memory has been deeply implanted in every cell of the taste bud. Every time I taste the same food, I always compare it with my childhood memories. Compared with this, the winner must be the taste of my mother's home cooking.

When I grow up, no matter how far away I am, the memories on my taste buds will always lead me to my home in a hurry on holidays. Even if Qianshan is full of water, I can't stop going home and trying my mother's stirring steps.

04

I have walked countless roads, waded countless rivers and tasted countless delicious foods. I don't remember the river in front of my door, and I can't speak the dialect of my hometown, but the taste of home seems to have been engraved in everyone's bones, melted into the blood, and will be touched inadvertently.

On the Dragon Boat Festival, the red dates and honey dumplings made by my mother were full of sweet fragrance, which made my heart itch.

On New Year's Eve, jiaozi with chopped green onion and radish was served.

In April, the sky is high and the clouds are light, and the buds of alfalfa quietly emerge from the ground again. My mother must choose one by one with a small basket and a knife, make a cage full of alfalfa jiaozi, and pour it with Chili vinegar, so that she can eat several bowls at a meal.

There are also chopped green onion mutton buns, and the aroma is far away. ...

The homesickness in the book, apart from the mountains and water in my hometown, I am afraid that I miss my parents and favorite dishes at home most.

No matter how old you are, no matter what you are doing, no matter where you are, my mother remembers what you like best. With her love, dishes will precipitate into a string of thoughts over time and lead my heart home.

This is a complex, right? Memories on taste buds, even a simple meal, are the best food in the world.

I remember a song:

It's windy to send the children away from home.

You stand at the crossroads and look out.

Affection is fermenting.

Huiweide

It's a long way to wander home.

Thousands of waters are inseparable from Qian Shan.

You smiled at the familiar dishes with relief.

That's the smell of mom.

May every mother in the world be happy and healthy, and the children go home to eat your cooking.