Memory of food ingredients 1 When I was a child, I liked to eat osmanthus lotus root, a plate of osmanthus lotus root, and lotus root slices steamed with lavender powder in a white porcelain plate. The lotus root hole is filled with soft glutinous rice, and the porcelain plate is covered with golden osmanthus honey wrapped in several petals. When you gently pick up a piece with chopsticks, you will see that thin silk thread extends from the lotus root piece, dripping with osmanthus honey.
Children like to eat sweet and soft things, and I am no exception. If I can smell the refreshing sweetness in the air when I come home from school, I will be happy to cheer.
Later, with the growth of age, heavy study brought me to my grandmother's house, which is closer to school. Grandma is an out-and-out northerner. She has been used to the sandstorm in the northwest all her life, and she can always speak and do things with a momentum that makes people shine at the moment.
But she can't make osmanthus lotus root.
This kind of sweet glutinous food, which should be unique to Jiangnan water town and has Huainan flavor, has never been eaten by grandma, let alone cooked. So my childhood, which seemed to be immersed in osmanthus honey, seemed to come to an abrupt end.
Studying day after day also made me gradually forget the lingering sweet taste of my childhood until that day.
On an ordinary afternoon, I pushed open grandma's door, and the faint, familiar sweetness got into my nose again. I suddenly felt refreshed, put down my schoolbag and went straight to the kitchen. Sure enough, grandma is turning her back on me. Her short body is busy before and after, with a jar of osmanthus honey at hand.
"Know that you like to eat, always want to learn to do for you. I don't know how the finished product tastes for the first time. Come and try! " Grandma waved happily when she saw me. She smiled so kindly that even the lines around her eyes were full of vitality.
I stare big eyes, grab chopsticks and can't wait to taste a piece. In an instant, sweet, soft, waxy and sweet-scented osmanthus fragrance filled the mouth together. Looking into grandma's eyes, those weather-beaten and muddy eyes flashed generate—— again-a kind of satisfaction and happiness after seeing my satisfied and happy expression.
I am happy and she is happy.
I almost don't want to swallow the lotus root in one breath, but I must taste it carefully and slowly. I must experience every bit of love and care wrapped in sweetness. Separated love and care meet in my heart, forming a torrent that is enough for me to wander among them.
The aftertaste of osmanthus lotus root lingers in my heart for a long time, which makes me really feel the sweetness. It is the deepest sweetness and will not dissipate with time. That's love from my grandmother.
There is a delicious food in my memory, and that is the traditional Dongguan cuisine-oil angle.
Oil angle is a delicious dish that we Dongguan people will cook during the New Year. Its appearance is like a gold ingot, which is brittle outside and brittle inside, making people drool.
Oil angle is small and exquisite in appearance, but its production process is very rigorous, which tests technology and experience.
Grandma and I started to be oil angle. First, we made two groups of flour, one with lard and the other with water. After kneading the two groups of flour, we will mix them together again, which will make oil angle more crisp. Then make stuffing. The stuffing is fine sugar, full peanuts, and sometimes sesame seeds and shredded coconut, which will taste better and match harmoniously. Then wrap the dough with stuffing. The last and most crucial step is to fry in a pot. First, pour enough peanut oil into the pot and bring it to a boil. Then you can put oil angle. Watching grandma skillfully put oil angle into the oil pan one by one, and when she put it in, there was no oil explosion in the oil pan. At first glance, grandma is an old hand. "oil angle will sink at first, but over time, it will float when it is fried. In the process of frying, we should constantly turn them over, so that the fried oil angle is not only of good quality, but also means rolling in financial resources. Oil angle turns golden yellow, and when it is cold, it can be fished out and tasted. " Grandma told me how oil angle did it while doing it.
Seeing the bright golden oil angle really looks like a small wallet! Pinch one and taste it. "Well, crisp and sweet. Delicious! " I said it with a golden horn.
This simple and ordinary delicacy is still sought after and loved by people. After tasting a little oil angle, the strong flavor of the year will ripple in my heart. This is the hometown food in my memory-Jinjiao.
The food in memory consists of three parts: rice in the south and noodles in the north. I grew up in my grandmother's house. I grew up in corncob and sorghum flour. But I have a preference for rice since I was a child, and I am more interested in the white, soft and round rice that will become sweeter and sweeter when I bite my teeth.
But that's in the north! The price of two bags of rice is almost enough to buy three bags of white flour. Therefore, rice can only be eaten on important days. Such as treating guests, visiting relatives and so on. At that time, my aunt would wash rice, buy vegetables and cook good dishes. Although it's a good meal, it's just stewed noodles with cabbage. It is also a surprise to add a plate of sliced sausage occasionally. But cutting sausages is for uncles, grandfathers and guests. So, don't eat more. A bowl of rice is only 35 yuan, but my brother and I are determined to secretly put more pieces. In the end, my grandfather often took a sip of wine with a smile on his face, then put two sausages for me and my brother, and finally my aunt kicked him off the table. Scold a few more words, "what a glutton! How can adults drink if you eat again? " And we just smiled at each other, served bowls, walked into the yard, sat on the steps and enjoyed our lunch slowly.
I can't forget that scene. The sky that day was very blue, extremely clean and completely light blue. My brother and I sat on the stone mill under the old pagoda tree. When the wind blows, several white Sophora japonica flowers fall, and the shallow floral fragrance is mixed with the fragrance of the earth and the smell of sunshine. My brother and I both eat slowly. We carefully take a small bite of sausage, let the sweet smell of sausage and the shallow sour taste of vinegar diffuse in our mouth, and then eat a big mouthful of rice to neutralize the taste. In order to enjoy sausages for a longer time, we will eat a lot of rice first, and then eat sausages.
Now, I don't have to be so careful about saving vegetables, because there are more vegetables than rice. Not only sausages, but also fish, shrimp and so on. But I have never tasted the taste at that time, I am not so happy, and rice can no longer taste sweet, because there are too many flavors in my mouth, too rich to resist the unobtrusive sweetness.
That smell, only in my memory, will never appear on taste buds again.
Memory 4 The food composition of Xincun is a place full of delicious food, not only sweet and delicious Italian syrup, but also the original flavor of yuba and so on. Although there has never been a food festival, the food here is inexhaustible.
I am most familiar with Yuba, because there was an old tradition of being Yuba opposite my friend's house. Watching the old man do it in the open space next to him every day. The Yuba there is very good, even TVB in Hong Kong has filmed there!
Speaking of the production process, it is purely manual. Because it is handmade, there are not many preservatives and chemicals as the factory knows, which makes people feel at ease and tastes much more natural.
There are four pots, and firewood is burned under them, which shows that it is really an old tradition. There is soybean milk in the pot, and there is a fan beside the pot.
The soybean milk there is also handmade in the original ecology. Soak soybeans in water, peel, grind, and then add water to make slurry. Under the action of the fan, there will be an obvious yellow thing on the surface of the hot soybean milk, which looks and feels like a soft paper, and that is the predecessor of yuba. There are many ways to make yuba, but generally speaking, the producer will cut it from the middle of the soft skin with a meat cleaver. A round pot will be semicircular after cutting.
Then the producer will skillfully pick her up from the most suitable place and hang her on the bamboo that has already been prepared. Because there are several pots, you can choose another one after picking this pot. Picked four pots, and the first pot was covered with yuba. When the bamboo is full, take it out to dry, and it will become a really good yuba in a few days.
Xincun yuba is the best of yuba, which is famous far and near, so many people come to buy yuba in the morning, far and near.
To produce yuba, you can not only sell yuba, but also sell soybean milk! It's killing two birds with one stone!
The yuba in Xincun is really worth a taste!
In this vast world, there are countless mouth-watering foods, and only jiaozi excites my taste buds the most.
Jiaozi, I believe everyone is familiar with it. After all, he is also a well-known "gourmet". It is an indispensable food for the Spring Festival, and it is also the food that many poor families dream of, which makes us feel warm.
I remember last year at the age of 30, according to the custom of my hometown, every household needed to work hard to get jiaozi, and my family was no exception. On this day, grandma got up early to prepare the ingredients for dumpling stuffing. Grandma put all the ingredients in a big bowl, and of course there is essential pork in it, which is also my favorite. She put them all in a bowl, put on gloves and stirred them. She only saw them enjoying a free massage leisurely, but she didn't know the danger was coming. I only heard the sound of "banging" on the chopping board. I can imagine them facing grandma's sanctions, just cutting holes in them with a kitchen knife. I really feel sorry for them when I think of it.
After a while, grandma began to mix dough, and the dough became firm and soft through grandma's skillful hands, just like the little face of a newborn baby. After the dough was mixed, I began to roll jiaozi. This time, I volunteered. I saw that my rolling pin is a stick, which should be able to beat the disobedient dough into submission. Then, I grabbed a piece of dough, put it on a smooth chopping board, picked up a "massager" to serve it, pressed it comfortably, and offered a sumptuous banquet to make it full, which was simply the treatment of a five-star hotel.
But they don't know that their ultimate fate is still boiling in hot water and eventually ending their lives. After jiaozi served it, the hot air steamed my face red, which made my taste buds satisfied as never before.
Jiaozi, a happy and loving food, has made me unforgettable for a long time.
I remember when I was a child, I would go to the breakfast shop next to the food market with my father every weekend. The shiny mixed noodles and fried golden fritters are my childhood memories.
In the morning, my father and I came to an antique breakfast shop. The shopkeeper has fried the first pot of fried dough sticks, and the wooden benches and tables are a little old. Several dusty electric fans shook their heads feebly. Just as I looked up at the owner's fried dough sticks, two bowls of hot noodles were brought up.
Dad carefully turned the bottom with chopsticks. Delicious lard is mixed with fresh soy sauce, and a few shallots are dotted on it, which makes people have an appetite. I felt a little greasy at first, and then the salty taste of soy sauce and the smell of shallots stimulated every taste bud on the tip of the tongue and every olfactory cell in the nose, and they were introduced into the brain together, resulting in only two words "delicious".
Eating delicious mixed noodles, the owner's action of frying fried dough sticks once again attracted me, which I still remember. I saw him knead a dough into strips, then took a knife and cut it into many pieces. He grabbed a handful of glistening flour, sprinkled it evenly like snow, then threw the dough on it like a chef, and then fell heavily on the table. Then he stacked two pieces of dough together, pressed them in the middle with a small bamboo stick, and was about to enter the oil pan. He picked up the dough, stretched it quickly in the air, and then put it in the oil pan. At this time, he picked up a pair of chopsticks longer than my arm and kept rolling fried dough sticks in the oil pan. The color of fried dough sticks gradually changed from white to yellow, and finally became Huang Chengcheng like gold. Just as I was deep in thought, the golden fried dough sticks were already on the table, and the oil on them was still dripping. Take a bite, and the crispy and delicious feeling is simply unparalleled.
Time flies, in a blink of an eye, that breakfast shop has disappeared with the food market, but although delicious noodles and golden fried dough sticks still exist in other stores, the quaint taste is gone forever, leaving only faint memories.
When the wind blows gently, my thoughts drift back to the days when I was still in primary school and my childhood with my grandmother.
In my mind, grandma is not suitable for cooking. Grandma doesn't cook many dishes, probably only fried, steamed and cooked, but she still changed the pattern for me. So every meal when I was a child was different from others. But I still enjoy it.
On a hot afternoon, cicadas sang loudly in the tree. Six years old, already in kindergarten. I finally look forward to the summer vacation, but I still have homework. However, after all, I am young and naturally have little homework. Before long, I left my homework and went crazy with my companions. In the evening, the children went home in the sunset.
When I got home, grandma came with a small bowl. I don't remember what my grandmother said at that time, except that I took a sip and spit it out again. Because it is tasteless, I only like to eat sugar or sweet things at that time, so the taste of mung bean soup was the most disgusting taste when I was a child.
After many years, I grew up gradually, and the bowl of mung bean soup has been forgotten by me. Until one day my grandmother lifted the veil again.
It was also a summer, especially hot summer. Cicada is still singing tirelessly in the tree. It's just that the season hasn't changed, the cicada hasn't changed, and it has become this kind of vicissitudes. Grandma has more gray hair, and I have grown up and more homework. When I was nine years old, I was doing my homework, and the hot air blew, which made me very tired. My grandmother doesn't know when she has been behind me, shaking her fan for me.
I'm still sweating. I know my grandmother saw it. She got up and went to the kitchen. After a while, she came carefully with a bowl. She said, "Take a break." Say that finish, pass me the bowl, I took my grandmother's bowl and took a sip, and a faint fragrance spread in my mouth. I exclaimed, "mung bean soup." Grandma smiled and nodded. This smell opened the door to my memory, and I remembered the most annoying smell of childhood and childish nursery rhymes.
In this hot summer, I actually fell in love with mung bean soup, which I hated most when I was a child, and my childhood disgust has completely disappeared.
Time is ruthless, and it often slips away inadvertently. As time goes by, such years cannot stand our carelessness. Mung bean soup is sweet, and deep affection flows in my heart.
Food in Memory Composition 8 The food in memory was wrapped by my grandmother, jiaozi.
Grandma's jiaozi is thin, not as big as other jiaozi, and it can be cooked. Grandma wrapped jiaozi, fat in vain, lying quietly like a fat doll, looking very appetizing.
Grandma is almost eighty years old and still in good health. Jiaozi is her best. She often packages jiaozi herself. She said that others bought jiaozi just to eat, regardless of appearance, which made people lose their appetite.
Every time grandma buys jiaozi, I follow her, and she doesn't mind me. She asked me to help her with noodles and chopsticks. When the bag is finished, those huge jiaozi are placed on the curtain, like fruit bowls. Light the firewood, light it, gently shake it with the fan in your hand, and the red fire burns in the firewood. Occasionally, a few grains of corn "exploded" in the fire. The fried corn kernels are like popcorn. In a short time, rays of hot air come out of the pot, making the dry pot sizzle and the water whir. Every once in a while, my grandmother uses a colander to pour it into the pot, so as not to let jiaozi touch the bottom of the pot. When the water boiled and jiaozi was not ripe, Grandma added two bowls of cold water to the pot. Jiaozi is ripe, and the room is full of steam, as if I were in the sky, surrounded by clouds. My grandmother went over and asked me to squat down and have a look. I took a look, and it turned out that all these white gases were floating on it. I just looked at the beautiful scenery, and my grandmother laughed at my silly appearance.
When the fire is about to burn out, grandma will take a big washed basin and put jiaozi in it with a colander. Full of jiaozi, steaming, pearls in the basin, shiny, grandma smiled and put the basin on the table, greeting us for dinner.
Jiaozi made by my grandmother is unique, and it accompanied my childhood. So whenever I pack jiaozi at home, I always think of my grandmother's jiaozi and her.
The first food that impressed me deeply was the "snowball" I ate when I lived in a big yard as a child.
Grandpa who sells "snowballs" often wears a white coat and pushes a trolley with a red signboard to shuttle through the compound. He is gentle, smiling and patronized. He immediately squeezed out small dumplings from the tiger's mouth like magic, rolled thick bean powder on them, put them in a box and handed them to customers.
Snowball donkey meat tastes sweet and sticky, but it is not greasy or sticky. Bite down, a fragrance scattered in the mouth, with a little smell. I always pester grandpa to buy it for me, especially in the morning. If I can eat a steaming "snowball" with the same warm and sweet soybean milk, it will be almost a perfect breakfast except for the hidden danger of tooth decay.
When I was in primary school, I moved out of the compound and came to Changsha. During that time, my memorable food was fried rice with eggs cooked by my grandfather who gave up his leisurely retirement and accompanied me to Changsha.
Ordinary white rice with eggs, and sometimes a few ham sausages, stir fry together, but there is no lack of flavor. Snow-white rice is dotted with Huang Chengcheng's eggs, which is very attractive. A little sparkle is sprinkled on the rice, which makes people's index fingers move. For a time, I ate fried rice with eggs cooked by my grandfather almost every day, and I never got tired of it. Probably any food with feelings will not be boring anyway.
Entering junior high school, the academic burden is aggravated. Start boarding and can only go home on weekends. At this time, the food I miss most is the beer duck that grandpa is good at.
Beer duck, as its name implies, is to add beer to the fried duck to make the taste more layered.
When grandpa cooks beer duck, he is used to adding red pepper, garlic cloves, onion knots, ginger slices, and the salty sauce unique to his hometown. It is really home-like. After the duck is fried, the sauce is black and fragrant, which is extremely attractive. Every time I eat beer duck, I always chew my wings and legs first, and then bite my neck and duck rack. In the end, even the ingredients such as peppers are not spared. I can eat three bowls of white rice. The next morning, grandpa will cook me a bowl of rice noodles with the remaining soup ... I can't think any more, my mouth is watering!
As a typical "foodie", I have eaten countless delicious foods since I was a child. What impressed me most was the snacks I ate as a child and the simple home cooking!