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What have I experienced from being afraid of cooking to falling in love with the kitchen?
Some people like to brush videos of others eating, while others like to brush videos of family ethics. In short, there are many kinds of videos.

Since I had a short video, I found that I couldn't keep my eyes open after watching it, and that was the video of making food. A life gourmet is like a magician who cleans the stove. After their skillful and calm operation, ordinary ingredients are transformed into a mouth-watering food, which always surprises people. It can be like this. Well done!

Imagine how happy you are sitting at this table, waiting for dinner. Therefore, I hope that the people I love can feel that eating is something that is particularly worth looking forward to and enjoying because of my God's operation.

However, it is found that things that look simple are extremely difficult to do. It is difficult to master the amount and temperature of salt, and the selection of materials and pots and pans are too big, which may make the taste worse.

If you really want to wait until you learn and understand the recipe, then you will have to eat, leaving yourself at the forefront and feeling guilty.

Under the gap between satiety and bone feeling, under the pressure of not meeting expectations every time, I still firmly believe that we must carry out the matter of cooking well to the end.

And where did this belief rise? Why are you so determined? Even I was a little surprised. I have no talent, no specialty, and even home cooking is often unstable.

I remember it happened when I was about 8 or 9 years old. My parents went out to buy goods, arranged for me to look after my brother at home, and told me that if I came back late, there would be cut wax gourd in the kitchen. If they are not back by dinner time, they will fire the wax gourd.

Since I have never cooked, I have repeatedly confirmed how to fry a plate of edible wax gourd. Mom seems to be very satisfied with her arrangement, saying that winter melon is the simplest dish. Stir-fry the oil for a few times, add some water, salt and soy sauce, and stew for a few minutes. Finally, she stressed that my brother is picky about food and should not cook soup and rice together.

Sure enough, when it was time for dinner, they hadn't come back, so I had to bite the bullet and try to fry the winter melon soup. According to the steps described by my mother, I operated methodically and felt that victory was in sight. I thought to myself, mom must be praising me when she comes back.

Unexpectedly, when I opened the lid, I saw that the melon was really good, but there was no soup. This can't be done. My brother must tell his mother that he has no soup with rice. Thinking of this, I quickly added a spoonful of water. Unexpectedly, there was too much water, and it took me a long time to cook as little soup as my mother usually did.

After a panic, the melon with soup was finally served on the table, but the taste was really complicated, as if the melon was raw, and it obviously looked too ripe. Fortunately, my brother is awesome. As long as there is soy sauce soup, he can eat it And I, my own cooking, can't get rid of it. I ate a whole bowl of rice and put two pieces of wax gourd in it.

Not long after dinner, my parents came back. I showed off to my mother that my brother and I had already eaten, but the wax gourd was not finished. It doesn't seem very delicious. She and her father can try. She glanced at the dish of wax gourd and carefully picked up a piece and tasted it. Without saying anything, she picked up the dish of wax gourd, went straight to the kitchen and dumped it directly. At that moment, I thought I heard something broken. . .

I don't remember what happened afterwards, but in retrospect, I still want to go back and hug myself at that time and say to myself, "It doesn't matter, maybe she is just in a bad mood."

But since then, I have never touched a spatula.

Leaving the university campus and entering the society, the salary is too low to pay the rent at the same time, and every meal is eaten out.

So, the sisters who lived together discussed buying food and cooking for themselves. Because of poverty, kitchen supplies are the cheapest, and even the chopping board is a piece of wood picked up outside. Only I can't cook, but I can't eat for free, so I wash the dishes. But often, they still wash the pots and pans, and I don't even have a chance to wash the dishes.

With a very embarrassing feeling, I told them that they should teach me to cook some home cooking, and I can't always eat for free. In case they work overtime, I can still make it.

With their encouragement, I was finally able to cook some simple dishes, such as scrambled eggs with tomatoes and vegetables.

People can't be satisfied with eating some dishes with repeated tastes every day. So, I began to challenge some big meat according to the online recipes, but the recipes were so easy to copy and the quantity was just right, almost the same. For these dishes that I have never counted, I can only call them experiments. I know that the experiment is not delicious, but as long as I get the disapproval from my family, my mood will soon turn from anger to collapse, accusing them of being picky or not knowing the difficulty of cooking, with tears on my face and leaving angrily: "I will never cook again."

I don't cook and I don't want to eat out all the time. My husband cooks only for a fixed dish, so the above things are repeated. I never think cooking is a happy thing.

After having a baby, I watched my mother with her baby's tired figure, so I got up the courage to pick up the shovel in front of her and provoked the burden of cooking. She is still so pertinent, delicious and not stingy with her praise, but not delicious. As soon as I hear it, my mind will conjure up scenes of my youth.

Once, the "war" broke out completely. I accused her of always ignoring other people's feelings and hardships. She listened quietly, and when I finished venting, I dried my tears and said, "I'm sorry, I broke your heart." I will pay attention to it later. "

Only after this incident did I realize how naive I was. My original intention is to make her happy and satisfied, but I hope to get positive feedback after a little work. If the result is not as perfect as expected, I will fly into a rage.

As for her, she has worked hard to cook for me for decades, and she will specially prepare my favorite steamed pork every New Year holiday.

I am ashamed to think of this. I think there is something wrong with my emotional control. Introspection, after reading some books, I gradually calmed down and began to pay attention to my initial heart, not my fragile self-esteem.

From then on, you don't need courage to walk into the kitchen. If the food is not as delicious as expected, you will say to the eater before serving it, "I'm sorry, I didn't type well this time." I will try to do better next time. "

Therefore, cooking for love is my only belief at the moment to carry the kitchen through to the end.