The Taste of Hometown Hometown is the root that a person can’t stop pulling between heaven and earth.

Whether it is in a foreign land with a waning moon in the morning breeze, or a dark and windy night, all kinds of familiar flavors sneak into my heart without realizing it. It is the unique flavor of my hometown, faint and long.

It is the taste of the "sweet stalk" of corn, the more you chew it, the sweeter it becomes; it is the taste of fried soybeans, the more you chew it, the oilier it becomes; it is the taste of fried white melon seeds with seasoning, the more you chew it, the more fragrant it becomes... The taste of my hometown is early spring wheat.

Spicy taste.

The ice and snow have not completely melted, and the wheat seedlings have not yet turned green. The impatient Mai La La La Cai lifted up the dead leaves to peek at the world. Within a few days, he shook out his beautiful green clothes, and the people who had suffered from winter were ecstatic.

, how can we not accept the gift of nature, the elderly and children grab shovels and baskets and rush to the wheat fields.

It’s not so much about picking up spicy wheat and spicy dishes, it’s really about letting your mood go.

The spicy, sweet and tender oily taste of the spicy wheat spicy vegetables refreshes the spleen and enters the lungs.

In this cold early spring, it brings people spring, joy, warmth, vitality, and hope.

The taste of hometown is the taste of apricot and peach blossoms.

The countryside in March, seen from a distance, is surrounded by white or red clouds. When you get closer, you can see that they are apricot trees and peach trees in front of and behind every house. When the flowers are blooming, the wind passes through the village, falling flowers are colorful, and the air

The air is filled with the faint aroma of apricot and peach blossoms. Walking among the trees is extremely comfortable. Take a breath of refreshing and fresh air, and all the unhappiness and fatigue will disappear without a trace.

The smell of hometown is the smell of acacia flowers.

When the remaining red of the peach blossoms has faded, amidst the sound of cuckoo, acacia flowers dominate the ditches of the villages and the roadside of the courtyards.

The beeping, beeping, and snowy tidbits made the bees busy and the villagers drunk.

Both adults and children were very excited, carrying poles and carrying baskets, and were very busy up and down the trees.

Sophora flower cake is an authentic hometown dish. It is sweet, numb, refreshing and delicious, with a long aftertaste. In the era of famine, it saved the lives of many villagers.

The taste of hometown is the taste of day lily.

After the wheat harvest, rows and rows of yellow flowers waiting to be picked, like yellow-flowered girls about to leave the palace, are a beautiful scenery in my hometown.

In the early morning, wearing high rain boots, carrying a basket, picking a basket of yellow flowers, the dewdrops fell, and the mood was wet.

Packs and handfuls of day lilies bring the love and warmth of hometown to the south and the north, over mountains and ridges, across rivers, passing on friendship and connecting nostalgia.

The taste of hometown is the taste of tender corn on the cob.

Autumn countryside, surrounded by green.

The green corn is lush and lush, and the breeze blows, like a vast expanse of blue waves surging.

Walk on the country road, so that the boat can sail on the rippling sea.

With blue sky, white clouds, beautiful sun and green, you will be deeply intoxicated by this pastoral scenery.

The most tempting thing is the tender corn, which is either roasted, steamed or cooked. Its tender, sweet and oily taste is refreshing to the bones and has an endless aftertaste.

The taste of hometown is the soft taste of the ground.

In winter and spring, the grass withers and leaves fall.

The fields are empty and deserted, and the villages are desolate.

In this season of rare life, soft soil is God's greatest gift to those who care about the loess.

On a windless and warm day, the children hang out with their friends, chatting, laughing, playing, singing and laughing all the way. When they reach a softer ground, they spread out, crouching down and holding a basket in one hand.

, one hand kept picking through the dead grass.

Picking up the soft stuff on the ground is a careful job. Don't be impatient. You have to pick it up gently with your thumb and index finger. If you use a little more force, the dry stuff will be crushed.

It's best to pick it up when the ground is wet. The ground is soft and swollen, but it's mixed with sheep dung, grass clippings and soil. You have to shake it every time you pick up a piece.

When you take it home, first sprinkle it with water, shake off the grass clippings and soil, and wash it over and over again. After the water comes out, the ground will be soft, dark and shiny, with a faint purple-green luster, making people salivate.

The soft ground is used to make steamed buns or soups, and the taste is delicious. The smooth, greasy, soft and slippery taste makes people's mouth full of saliva, and the lingering fragrance is endless.

Chew your hometown, the quiet spring water is holy water, take a sip to nourish your liver and lungs, and your soul will be cleansed by it; the muddy loess is the pure land, smell it to open your mind and unblock meridians, and your soul will take refuge;

The strong local accent is the sound of nature. No matter where you are in the world, your soul will return to your hometown.

At dusk, every house is filled with smoke and warmth.

There is smoke curling up outside every house, and love is lingering.

The village is filled with a light fragrance.

It is the taste of warmth, love, and hometown.

Smell her and you won't lose your way home.