Usually spoiled by grandparents, spoiled by parents. At home, I am the youngest, so my relatives love me very much. I have lived like the apple of my eye since I was a child.
That was the first time I cooked for my parents.
That day, I came home, and my mother was lying in bed. Seeing me back, she quickly got out of bed and cooked for me. As soon as my mother starts talking, there is a strong nasal sound in her voice. I didn't feel right until I asked. Oh, my mother caught a cold. I tried my mother's forehead. It's much hotter than me. I quickly arranged for my mother to sit down, gave her medicine and said, "Mom, you are sick. Let me cook. " My mother looked at me anxiously and was about to say something, but I said, "All right, all right, I'll do it myself." It's blocked
I'm going to cook. Although I have done it before, it's all scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Can I do that? I secretly pinched a cold sweat.
I dug out the cookbook, frowning and turning over the dazzling cookbook page by page, and finally found a dish suitable for patients to eat, ready to start cooking. My mother came in and asked me, "Will you cook?" I looked down and prepared to say,' Don't you just cook porridge and cook a dish? Why not? "Paused for a moment, he said," you go back and lie down. Why did you come out again? "
Washing vegetables into pieces is usually a simple step. Why is it so hard to find me? I almost cut my hand several times. It is good for patients to cook porridge with a small fire, and the millet is rotten, but I have made this seemingly simple porridge cooking process almost a mess several times. The fire was so small that it didn't cackle for a long time. I'm angry. I'll be out in a few minutes Cooking is too difficult. I can't do every step well, such as stir-frying spinach with tofu brain, putting oil in vegetables and putting tofu brain. I spilled grease all over, and the starch used in minced meat will be very fresh and tender. A little pepper, lobster sauce and a little sugar are very strong and can make patients appetizing. After a series of stumbling, I finally put this seemingly simple meal.
I watched my mother eat with anticipation. Her eyes sparkled, and she said to me, "Delicious, better than in a restaurant, and feel at home." . I tasted it. One dish was salty and the other was light, which puzzled me-why my mother said it was delicious! I asked my mother, and she smiled and didn't give me an answer.
Mom went to sleep, dad came back and tasted my cooking. I told him what my mother said. He smiled and said, "Do you know that home smells like a servant? The chef in the restaurant doesn't know who to cook for, but cooking for his family is different, because with' heart' as seasoning, everything will be delicious. "
It suddenly dawned on me.
It also reminds me that my mother buys food and cooks every day. For so many years, every meal my mother cooks is so delicious. I used to take it for granted to be here, but I never found out how much I love my family. I walked into the room, hugged my mother and said to her, "Thank you, mom, for cooking so delicious every meal for so many years."