The dream is full of foraging scenes, sometimes waiting in line for food in the school cafeteria, sometimes eating fried meat with green bamboo shoots in a roadside restaurant, and sometimes eating steak in a western restaurant. In a word, after eating, my stomach growls, and then my dream wakes up, and my mouth is even drooling, but it has a long aftertaste.

That period was the most greedy time in my life, and it was also the most disharmonious time between my stomach and my belly. No matter what good food you have just eaten, you can throw up before you can digest it in your stomach. You can vomit, vomit, and finally get over it, and you are hungry again after such a toss.

At the most exaggerated time, it is common to want to eat sugar cane in winter and roast sweet potato in summer. Even if you think of a certain food and can't eat it immediately, your heart will be as painful as a hundred rabbits scratching their hearts and scratching their livers. And once the kind of food you want to eat takes a lot of trouble to get, you often lose your appetite when you buy it.

This kind of abnormal and casual, strange but reasonable food and the protracted struggle between me lasted for more than half a year. It sounded terrible, but it was common, but people who had not experienced it personally would not feel this way.

It's not that I got something strange, but because I was pregnant at that time. It's not that I wanted to "work", but that my brain and appetite could not be synchronized during pregnancy.

After a difficult period of morning sickness, I finally upgraded to be a mother. I thought I could go straight to the peak of my life without three layers of skin, but I found that new problems followed.

I have to start cooking.

Even if I don't eat, I still have to eat.

Although eating is a hard job, cooking is not necessarily a flattering job.

Maybe a real foodie doesn't have to cook by himself, but a qualified family chef must have excellent knife skills, be familiar with all kinds of frying, braising and stewing techniques, and master the know-how to avoid being scalded by hot oil, so as to be able to achieve proficiency after many battles.

In the first two years of my first marriage, I also cooked in the kitchen. Occasionally, I became interested, and I also made a few creative dishes according to the steps of APP, taking a photo and making a circle to get some small satisfaction. But the story behind those retouched food photos is more sensational than the food I cooked.

Let me give you some examples.

When cooking fish or shrimp, I usually put it in the refrigerator to freeze to death first, because I am afraid that they will jump out of the plate when they come alive.

I usually slice or dice vegetables with roots or strips, because the knife work is limited, I can't cut very fine silk. And every time I cut round potatoes, I feel scared, for fear that I will chop off my fingers.

And every time I fry the vegetables and prepare the pot, I can't remember how many times I put the salt.

When it comes to cooking, there may be examples of self-learning, but cooking is empty, passionate and without foundation for me. Even if you go to chef cooking school to sign up for study, it is estimated that you will get a zero-based class.

The phrase "I'll cook for you whatever you want" often appears in movie lines, which is bound to be the result of unremitting exploration and long-term practice. It is not a quick effort to master the characteristics of various ingredients and how to match them to present the best taste combination overnight.

And with my ability, at most, it is the level of "Are you hungry? Why don't I cook noodles for you?". The so-called practice makes true knowledge, and there is no room for adulteration.

The bitterness and joy of cooking may be interpreted and interpreted by a thousand people.

Just like many people's idols, Nicholas Tse used to know that he was a rebellious teenager, singing and acting in movies, and doing all kinds of deviant things. However, after watching the food reality show "Twelve Flavors" starring him, my understanding of chefs has been refreshed. Cooking is not only to fill the stomach, but also to satisfy the empty and lonely stomach and heart at the same time. This process itself is a romantic thing to the bone. And his personal demonstration made me find that the sexiest moment for a man is not the moment of pick up hot chicks's eyes and wallowing at all, but the back of wearing an apron to wash hands and make soup for his beloved.

However, a half-baked cook like me is always wandering between not wanting to cook and not being able to cook.

When we are alone, cooking is a pleasure for me. Whether it's going to the market hand in hand to kill fish and chickens, or going to the supermarket side by side to pick and wash the bundled green leafy vegetables, the ingredients of love are far more than the meaning of eating itself.

What you cook and what you eat when you are Nong Nong can be negotiated and measured. At that time, I can really spend a whole day doing nothing, just to carefully cook a pot of old chicken soup and deliver it to each other at just the right temperature when he comes back from work.

But since having a baby, everything has become different.

Cooking has changed from an occasional living ornament to an inescapable fate of three meals a day.

When I get home after a day's work, people are particularly tired. Sometimes I have to code words at night, or deal with housework. I finally buy vegetables home, and it is often dark, which makes me even less interested in cooking.

Not to mention the triviality of buying, washing and cooking every day. As far as the cooking process is concerned, it is really a nerve-racking thing to smoke, steam, boil, fry and fry everything by yourself, and you can't cut corners at every meal. It is delicious to eat and comprehensive in nutrition with meat and vegetables.

Sometimes I will be lazy, and I will finish the cooking process in a perfunctory way during the dinner. However, every time a player makes a mistake, he will be ruthlessly pressed with a red cross, and two dream instructors, one big and one small, will silently protest against my careless performance.

Don't say that the referee can't be perfunctory. In fact, I can't eat the food that I didn't make with my heart, and the clear soup lacks flavor. Many times, I can't help but want to explode and quit.

But more often, I think that the restaurant outside may stir-fry with gutter oil, use hormone-induced chicken wings to make fried chicken, and use various chemically prepared flavors to blend the fragrance of broth, all of which will damage the young organs of children, and the food cooked by myself, even if it doesn't taste very good, will never be toxic or harmful. Every time I think of this, I will silently pick up the wooden shovel and the pot cover that I just threw away, and continue to fight between the monsters of the oil pan, the high temperature flame and the oil smoke, just like the warrior Don Quixote fighting against the windmill, with the pot cover as the spear and the wooden shovel as the shield.

Dolls have to pay attention to scientific collocation when eating, and her father has a delicate stomach, so once he eats unclean food outside, he will inevitably have diarrhea, so we will try to reduce the number of times of eating out. And every time I hear the doll praising the food I cooked, I feel that the hard work of doing it is worth it. The dish that I ate up is the best affirmation and praise.

Even today, a clumsy cook can't avoid being cut by a kitchen knife or being whipped up by a flying oil star, but she finally learned to take it calmly, and after dealing with the wound simply, she continued to throw herself into every selfless struggle with the oil pan.

I used to eat every meal, but I only thought about the hard work behind it.

My favorite soup is called pork tripe and chicken stew. It needs to be cooked in advance, and the raw materials should be repeatedly rubbed and washed, sliced and fried, and then cooked by fire, and then simmered slowly. After it is basically half cooked, the soup is cooked in a pot. The soup is supplemented with various ingredients, such as white kidney beans, which need to be soaked for a day and night in advance. The chicken needs to be cooked in the same way. After it is all prepared, it will be stewed in a pressure cooker at high pressure, and finally it will be delicious.

Another example is pearl meatballs, which are minced with meat, blended with eggs, kneaded into pills, rolled in glutinous rice soaked in advance, and steamed in boiling water on a steamer. When they are out of the pot, the appearance is crystal clear as pearls, and the meat inside is delicious.

Even as simple as garlic and vegetables, you need to carefully prepare all kinds of condiments, such as oil temperature, salt, heat and freshness of raw materials.

Behind every home-cooked dish, you can't eat it without patience and overall planning to arrange time in advance.

These seemingly simple and ordinary steps also contain great philosophy and wisdom of life.

I remember watching a master cook once. The material was very simple, that is, tofu was stewed in soup, but the tofu needed to be broken into thousands of filaments with a knife. At that moment, I was stunned. It seemed that everything in the world was solidified, and the tofu half an inch square was born with a fine texture like hair under his knife, and it was spread in the soup like a flower, truly achieving the harmony of food beauty and color.

Shocking at the same time, I also reflect on myself. All I need to do is cook a meal for two people I love. It is nothing more than something that can be improved with a little more time and energy, but I always regard it as an imaginary enemy to escape.

There is a saying in our ancestors that days are a dime a dozen.

In fact, in a long life, what people are tired of and have to do repeatedly is more than cooking. Even if they love each other, they can't avoid stumbling under the same roof.

Who doesn't want fresh clothes and angry horses, who is willing to be confined to the kitchen and restaurant, but since they are willing to bow to each other, they have to dare to eat fireworks.

When you are in love, you are willing to be young all your life. And marriage is day after day, and a meal is connected with a meal. If you can't take care of the fireworks on earth, how can you watch the stars in the sky together?

Life is a process of constant practice. Reading is practice, worshipping Buddha is practice, and cooking is practice. Where is the kitchen? In my opinion, the kitchen is the Dojo for practicing life by using dishes.

My path is still shallow, and I can only continue to practice in the name of love.