Maybe mom's cooking is not the best, and it is worse than many people, but it is the only one that cooks for you wholeheartedly.

As long as it is the food cooked by my mother, it can never be replaced.

Every time I go home, my mother will ask me: "Is the food at home still delicious? Have you missed your mother's cooking after being out for so long?"

Watch My mother's eyes were full of expectation and pride, and I could only reluctantly respond with a perfunctory yes.

But actually, not only do I not miss it, I even dislike it a little bit.

Compared with the food cooked by my mother, whether it is the cafeteria in the university or the small restaurant downstairs after work, it is much better than the food at home.

I have resented my mother’s cooking for a long time.

In primary school class, when we were learning a certain text, the teacher suddenly asked each of us to stand up and answer: What is your favorite dish? Also name your mother's favorite dish.

The other students answered quickly and loudly, Kung Pao chicken, fish-flavored shredded pork, sweet and sour pork ribs, salted fish and eggplant stew, soy sauce goose... When it was my turn, I hesitated. I can't say a word.

I racked my brains to think about it, but I still couldn’t think of it.

In addition to stir-fried cabbage, the dishes my mother cooks include stir-fried cabbage, stir-fried lettuce, stir-fried water spinach, stir-fried mustard greens... I don’t know if these are the names of a dish, and I can’t remember them in my mind. As for the other names, under the gaze of more and more people, I had to squeeze out a sentence in a panic: "I like to eat chicken legs the most!"

My deskmate laughed quietly, and the teacher also smiled slightly. , she looked at me kindly and continued to ask: "What about your mother?"

I really don't know what other dishes are available! I couldn't even think of a nonsense. Faced with the joking eyes of other people sitting there, I suddenly blurted out: "My mother loves vegetables the most!" A little fat man laughed so hard that he patted my table and raised his chin and said: "There are so many dishes, I just want you to name one, how can you say that!"

I was at a loss. He stood there, his face so hot that he wanted to get into the hole immediately. Fortunately, the teacher quickly smoothed things over and said: "It seems that Xiaowen still doesn't understand what mommy likes to eat. You can go home and take a closer look tonight. Okay, next one!"

I took it with me for a while. I sat down in shame, but angrily transferred my resentment to my mother. It was all my fault. The food at home was stir-fried, stir-fried, stir-fried every day. There were no dishes at all, and I didn’t know the names of the dishes. How could I What to say!

After I got home, I saw the same fried vegetables with the same pattern and taste day after day on the table. Thinking of the roar of laughter in class, I felt like it was stuck in my throat and I couldn't eat it at all.

After living on campus, I started a career of cooking large pots of food in the dining hall.

The strange thing is that I can actually eat the big pot dishes that many people say are unpalatable. From junior high school to high school, I was used to eating the big pot dishes in the canteen every meal. You can eat them all.

Although the dishes in the school canteen are not necessarily rich, they are rich in variety. The recipes for each meal are different. You can make several dishes with the same eggs: steamed eggs, scrambled eggs with tomatoes , scrambled eggs with green beans, egg patties, scrambled eggs with green peppers, egg dumplings... There are also more complicated ribs with black bean sauce, steamed pork with pickled vegetables, etc. I like them all.

Of course, there are occasionally fried winter melons that I hate, but compared to the fried green vegetables that have remained unchanged for thousands of years at home, the dishes in the canteen are already considered delicious.

When I go home on weekends, my mother will cook more dishes, but no matter what dish it is, it cannot escape the fate of frying.

Yes, my mother only knows how to cook. Add oil, salt, heat the pan, add the vegetables, stir-fry for a few minutes, and the dish is ready.

She never makes even complicated dishes, and she never studies different methods. Just like stir-fried cabbage heart is stir-fried cabbage heart, and stir-fried pork is stir-fried pork. It can’t be said that it tastes bad, but it’s just that it’s not delicious. Really can't wait to see it.

I always don’t understand why it’s so simple to stir-fry a dish. Even if you add some bacon to the stir-fry, add some garlic to the stir-fry pork, or add more tricks and thoughts, I won’t be so resistant. It’s a pity that my mother Never.

At the beginning, I also tried to jokingly tell my mother that I could try cooking in a different way instead of just frying it every time. My mother would stare at me and say: I've been cooking for you for more than ten years, and now you start to dislike it?

I can only lose one battle after another.

During the New Year’s Eve dinner, my mother showed off her skills in the kitchen, chopping chickens, ducks and geese, while we watched food programs in the living room.

Watching the old man on TV making Buddha Jumping over the Wall, steamed eggs with shrimp and tofu, steamed cured meat, fried prawns, ginger and onion chicken, sweet and sour lotus root sandwich, chestnut pork ribs...etc. Delicious dishes, my gluttony has been completely aroused.

But every time I wait for dinner, I will be very disappointed.

Totally mommy style. Stir-fried chicken is stir-fried chicken, stir-fried goose is stir-fried goose, stir-fried green vegetables is stir-fried green vegetables, stir-fried mushrooms is stir-fried mushrooms... Mom always has the ability to make a large table of originally dazzling dishes look ordinary. .

And what makes me want to complain the most is that as long as it is meat, my mother likes to chop it into very large pieces. Even if I tell her every time not to chop it too big, she will not be able to eat it at all, but she still goes her own way.

Every New Year’s Eve dinner, the dishes will never change: fried chicken and fried goose.

I liked to eat it from the beginning, but later became indifferent, thanks to my mother’s ten years of cooking skills and perseverance.

What makes me most helpless is that I have passed the age of a child and the age of loving meat, but my mother still retains the preference of the past: leaving chicken legs.

As long as the chicken is being killed, my mother will keep the big chicken legs. After frying a large plate of chicken and bringing it to the table, she will urge me to pick up the specially reserved big chicken legs and forcefully ask me to eat them. over.

Whenever I see the chicken legs stuffed into the bowl, my heart breaks.

If it is a chicken leg that has been chopped into small pieces, I think I would like to eat it. However, when chewing such a big chicken leg, sometimes the teeth will accidentally get caught in the tendons. , I really can’t stand it.

But my mother was too kind to refuse, so I had to swallow it with tears, gnawed a chicken leg, and then lay down on one side holding my belly to rest.

As I get older, the dishes my mother cooks seem to become more and more "unpalatable".

The oil is getting heavier and the salt is getting heavier. Even a plate of fried vegetables can leak out a large plate of oil, let alone meat dishes.

At this time, I dislike going home for dinner less and less.

Several times, when I trudged home after a few hours of jolting, and saw that the dishes my mother brought out were piles of oil, I really couldn’t control my temper at all. He said with a cold face that he didn't want to eat.

It would be fine if all mothers cooked like this, but it is not.

Occasionally, I visited a friend's house and had lunch there. Her mother also cooked a few home-cooked dishes, but the home-cooked dishes can also reveal a little bit of care: garlic lettuce, fried bamboo shoots with bacon, ground pork, and so on. Three delicacies, winter melon and pork ribs soup. A simple meal, light and appetizing, making people feel comfortable eating.

Later, I invited that friend to play at home and stayed with her to eat. My mother happily cooked some meat dishes, but my friend stretched out her chopsticks several times during the dinner and didn’t know what to pick. He kept saying "eat more" and "pick it up as you like", and then said "I'll give you this fat piece of meat" while putting a thick piece of chicken into my friend's bowl with a gesture that he couldn't refuse.

Looking at the slightly twitching corners of my friend’s mouth and the thick layer of butter clearly visible on the piece of chicken, I couldn’t help but want to hold my forehead.

My mother always compares me with other children and always talks about how other children are better. But when it’s my turn to tell her what other mothers are good about, she starts to criticize them. Then she began to scold me, thinking that I was too old and had stiff wings, and that she disliked her. She had been cooking for me for more than ten years, and she still dared to say that it was not delicious.

Even if I sometimes take the recipe and ask her if I want to follow it and try a new dish, she will remain indifferent and continue to do the same thing: stir-fry.

Sometimes when I try to persuade my mother not to add too much oil and salt, she will be unconvinced and say that it’s not her who wants to add so much salt, but her father’s food that’s very flavorful and he always says her cooking is tasteless.

I could only roll my eyes.

Maybe my mother really has no talent when it comes to cooking.

The home-cooked food made by others is simple and delicious home-cooked food, and the home-cooked food cooked by my mother is simple but ordinary home-cooked food;

Others cook a variety of dishes , my mother’s cooking has never changed for thousands of years;

Others can make delicious and interesting snacks, but my mother can only make fried fruits...

I always dislike my mother I hate that my mother’s cooking is the same, heavy in oil and salt but tasteless. I hate that my mother never learns how to chop meat into small pieces. I hate that my mother never studies and improves her cooking skills...

But after working, I wandered around all year round, entering one restaurant after another with all kinds of people, and eating all kinds of dishes I had never tasted before. What I often thought of was what my mother served to the table. That plate of vegetables that didn’t look good, that big chicken drumstick that I always refused to cut open, and the only snack my mother knew how to eat, fried fruits.

Once in a while, I went in to an unknown shop in Guangzhou and ordered a clear noodle soup. I don’t know whether it was because I was too hungry or I hadn’t eaten for a long time. The noodles taste similar to the noodles my mother makes. As I eat them, I burst into tears in the winter in Guangzhou, and suddenly I begin to miss my mother’s cooking.

After eating the noodles, I returned to the dormitory and called my mother. She told her that she had eaten noodles from a restaurant that looked very much like the noodles she made. She said she would cook them for me when I got home.

She on the other end of the phone suddenly choked up. She said that she was afraid that I would not have a good life thousands of miles away, that I would be cold and hungry, and hoped that I would come home soon. She said nonchalantly, "Wait a minute." When I got home, I bought pork ribs and lotus roots to make me lotus root, pork ribs soup and rice noodle soup. It was my favorite thing to eat since I was a child.

Later, when I returned home during the Mid-Autumn Festival, my family had prepared rice noodles and lotus root and pork ribs soup. During dinner in the evening, I scooped out a large bowl full of soup and noodles, with piles of rice noodles in the bowl. It’s full of lotus root, which I love to eat.

She kept holding lotus roots and pork ribs for me, and even found large pieces for me, as if she was afraid that I would be hungry. I said I couldn't eat that much, but she still gave me spoonful after spoonful of lotus root pork ribs from the pot.

At around 11 o'clock in the evening, while I was still sitting in the living room watching TV, she insisted on cooking a late-night snack. She even asked me to eat some with my dad on the pretext that it was my father who wanted to eat, and then asked me When I ask for a few eggs, no matter how many I say, she will crack two and say two is the best, perfect and perfect, like 100 points.

Later, when I lived alone, there were more and more ingredients in the refrigerator. There were various ingredients such as shrimp, beef balls, fish balls, etc. in the noodle soup, but I still felt that my mother’s simple pot of lotus root and pork ribs Tangase noodles are the best.

The taste of many dishes has changed again and again, and the doors of many stores have opened and closed. Only my mother’s dishes have maintained the same level all year round, waiting for me to go home to eat them, and only those at home. The door, whenever I go back, is always open.

My mother once said to me, she also knows that she can’t cook, she also knows that her cooking is not delicious, she knows that you dislike her... she knows it all. But my mother has been cooking for decades, and your dad has been eating it for decades. Your dad is used to cooking like this, and mom is used to cooking like this. Sometimes I want to change the way I cook, but I can’t change it anymore. . When you grow up, you have your own ideas, new tastes, and new pursuits of food, but mom and dad are not the same. Mom and dad have been eating the same meals for a long, long time.

I was thoughtful.

Perhaps what we are tired of is exactly what they miss. What we want to change is what they want to persist.

I also discovered that the exhaust fan in the kitchen was covered with oil, the chimney wall was turned black by the oil smoke day after day, year after year, and the apron was covered with oil marks. , there are a little traces of oil splashing on my mother's hands...

My mother worked tirelessly to cook three meals a day for us in this small and windless kitchen. Not only did we feel at ease Even though we enjoy ourselves, we have to complain even more. My mother never expresses her dissatisfaction. She just gets upset when she sees us picking up the food in the bowl, and we only get worse and complain that the food our mother cooks is getting worse and worse. Ask your mother to keep changing, changing, changing.

My mother’s cooking is indeed very ordinary, but this very ordinary food has fed me, who is very ordinary.

I used to often wonder why the food smelled like my mother, and what exactly my mother’s taste tasted like.

Until I saw a video, a group of young firefighters on duty on New Year’s Eve were eating dumplings in the canteen. Suddenly, a firefighter cried while eating because he ate something from the dumplings he was eating. It tasted like mother, and he insisted that it was made by her mother. As a result, when he turned around, it turned out that it was her mother who came to see him, and the dumplings he ate were indeed the dumplings made by his mother.

I suddenly remembered the noodles I ate at that unknown shop in Guangzhou. The taste of the noodles reminded me of my mother, but I knew it was not the case.

In the past, I always felt that the dishes cooked by my mother had no style or taste. It turns out that as soon as the tip of my tongue touches it, the taste buds in my memory will be awakened and tell me who made it.

Maybe mom’s cooking is not the best, and it is worse than many people, but it is the only one that cooks for you wholeheartedly.

As long as it is the food cooked by my mother, it can never be replaced.