In daily study, work and life, everyone is familiar with composition. Composition is a narrative method in which people express the relevant knowledge, experience and thoughts stored in their memory in written form. I believe that writing essays is a headache for many people. The following is the essay about the taste of hometown that I have compiled for you. Welcome to read and collect it. The Taste of Hometown Essay for the Third Grade of Junior High School 1

The blue outside the warm sunshine outside the window, the dark green behind the spring stream, and the pale yellow under the bright moon are the only things I remember about the taste of my hometown.

This is an ordinary village.

Several loud rooster crows came on time into a small house with white walls and black tiles, pulling me out of sleep. I blinked my sleepy eyes to adapt to the warm sunshine that shrouded me in the window, and I couldn't help but feel happy. Be cheerful. Then I leaned against the window, looking at the blue sky, waiting for the loud and powerful shouts to come from the distance: "Fried fruit strips, rat shell nuts, duck mother twist, five yuan a bowl!" "Waiting for the smell of hometown to fill the alley outside the house.

The village was built on a spring stream. In the afternoon, there were often happy figures of children playing by the stream. The splashing water floated to my side, where I was helping my aunt grill fish. The fish that had just been caught sizzled in the fire and slowly turned brown. In the fragrance, the uncle walked out of the dark green banana forest behind the stream with a bunch of bananas in his arms and patted his arms. Bananas in the basket, he greeted enthusiastically: "Come and taste the taste of hometown!"

A bright moon hangs far away in the sky, the stars are hidden, and the evening breeze blows, blowing this The aroma of hot meals for the whole family carries far away. Grandpa excitedly brought a jar of glutinous rice wine from the house and said, "I have brewed this wine for several years. There is no shop like this after passing this village." After that, he opened the jar and a strong aroma of wine filled the air. Spreading out in the night, a few sweet-scented osmanthus trees behind me, which were carefully cared for by my grandfather, seemed not to be outdone. A touch of light yellow flowers hid among the green leaves, emitting a refreshing fragrance. Under this intoxicating moonlight, in this intoxicating smell of hometown, chatting with my grandparents, I also became slightly drunk.

The taste of hometown is different from the bustling traffic and brilliance of the city. A mountain or a lake does not have the artificial carving behind the mountains and rivers in the city, but only the unique nature and tranquility.

However, I walked further and further amidst the city’s whistles, rockeries, and artificial sweets, far away from the blue outside the warm sun outside the window, far away from the dark green behind a spring of water, far away from A touch of pale yellow under a bright moon, far away from the taste of home. My distant hometown, the hometown that implicates me in endless thoughts. Now, thinking about your taste, can I still find the way back?

The third grade of junior high school: I really want to hold your hand. The taste of hometown composition 2

The taste of hometown is engraved in my heart like a depiction, which I will never forget... …

——Inscription

My hometown is located in Zhanjiang, the southernmost tip of the mainland of the motherland. The environment here is pleasant and the food is endless. But what fascinates me the most is the plain-cut chicken.

Plain-cut chicken, as the name suggests, is chicken cooked without strong seasonings. You may ask, what is it about chickens like this that is so tasteless that fascinates you? Therefore, it depends on the texture of the chicken. There is not much else in Zhanjiang, but there are a lot of open farmlands. Chicken breeders will release the chickens from their cages every morning, guide the chickens to the open space, scatter rice and miscellaneous rice, and let them eat freely. , run as much as you want. Such chickens are called "free-range chickens" in our local area. Therefore, authentic plain-cut chickens are all free-range chickens. This completely natural free-range chicken makes the chickens healthier and more delicious. In my family, the whole family likes to eat plain-cut chicken, which is inspired by my grandma. Grandma is an authentic Zhanjiang native. She loves life and food, and is good at cooking. Among them, the most delicious thing she cooks is plain-cut chicken. Every New Year and festival, grandma would cook boiled chicken for us to eat. At that time, the kitchen was grandma’s world. Grandma first removes the feathers from a fresh chicken, digs out the internal organs, washes it, boils the water, then puts the whole chicken into the pot, adds a spoonful of salt, and closes the lid. After ten minutes, open the lid and see that the chicken skin is golden yellow. At this time, the plain-cut chicken is ready to be taken out of the pot. The most delicious plain-cut chicken is when the chicken is cooked just separated from the chicken bones, and the chicken bones still have some blood. At this time, the chicken is the tenderest, smoothest, and most delicious. After the chickens are cooled, grandma will cut them into small pieces, and the delicious plain chicken is ready to serve.

The New Year’s Eve dinner begins with the serving of plain-cut chicken. The aunts and uncles talked about the happy events of the year while eating plain-cut chicken and other meals. My cousins ??and I were "fighting" for the delicious chicken legs and wings. The plain chicken will be wiped out every time.

I have traveled to many cities in other provinces and tasted local chicken. Although the tastes are different, the spicy ones are only spicy and the sweet ones are only sweet. There is no original white chicken in my hometown. The cut chicken is delicious. My parents also say that after eating chicken for half their lives, only the chicken from their hometown is the most delicious, and they will never tire of eating it. The white-cut chicken in my hometown is not decorated with various seasonings like other chickens. It shows its truest and original self to people, making people praise it. It is just like people from home, simple and real, and does not need to decorate itself with all kinds of false names.

Maybe this is why my family and I, as well as people in my hometown, are obsessed with plain chicken.

Maybe in the future I will go to far away places for my studies and career, but as long as I think of the delicious plain-cut chicken, I will remember my passing grandma and the joy of eating plain-cut chicken when I was a child. , remembering my far away hometown and the simple people in my hometown. White-cut chicken is the taste of hometown, the taste of hometown people returning to their original nature. The Taste of Hometown Grade 3 Composition 3

What is the taste of hometown? It’s the cup of home-brewed deep turbid wine, the moonlight full of melancholy, and the red maple as red as blood. These flavors may be rich, cold, or hot, but they are all similar - they all have our own emotions, which is the longing for our hometown. This emotion is something that Chinese people will never forget in their lifetime. No matter where they live, it will always cause sighs every full moon night.

The taste of my hometown that remains deepest in my heart is the noodles made by my grandma. Probably because she was born in a rural area, grandma always carries with her the simplicity, hard work and wisdom of farmers. A spoonful of white flour always shows various colors when mixed with water under her hands. When I was a child, I watched my grandma twist a small piece of dough in her hands flexibly a few times, and when she put it on the chopping board, it had already become a flower roll. At that time, I couldn't help but be surprised. I lay on the chopping board and stared blankly at my grandma shaping the little dough balls one by one. I then asked her, "Grandma, how did you do it? How come you did it so fast?" Grandma squatted down with a smile. He grabbed my face, then smiled and said to me in Shaanxi dialect: "It will get better over time. What, you want to learn?"

I nodded. Grandma handed me a small piece of noodles and told me: "Plate this piece of noodles first, then twist it, and the two halves will stick together." But I don't know if I understood it wrong or if grandma's hands were too fast. , I still haven’t learned how to roll flower scrolls, but my grandma’s ingenuity left a deep impression on me. From then on, every time grandma entered the kitchen, I always followed her. When I watch those long noodles being played with, I always have a look of admiration on my face. Because every time I see my grandma cooking in the kitchen, the sound of the rolling pin when rolling out the noodles, and the momentary sound of the noodles entering the water when being lowered, have a kind of rhythm and beauty, which makes me more and more interested in the kitchen. I was fascinated by the busy voice of the middle-grandma. So as soon as grandma enters the kitchen, a little figure will follow her, sticking around like a follower.

Later, I followed my parents to Xi'an because of schooling. The cars passed by, showing the prosperity. But I couldn't sleep when I first entered this city. I had long been accustomed to the peace and leisure of a small county town. I was still a little scared and uneasy about the cars passing by at night. I couldn't sleep all night, and I was even more reminded of where I was. Grandma from my hometown. That feeling was one of loneliness, panic and helplessness. In addition, in this era of mechanization and modernization, although the food in the city dazzled me, there was always one missing feeling. Now I think it is the calmness and calmness in the fields. Be mature, it's not as delicious as grandma's pasta.

Perhaps this is the taste of hometown, the taste of grandma’s food, and the taste of my memories. It is so simple, enthusiastic and beautiful... The Taste of Hometown Essay 4 for the third grade of junior high school

When I was a child, the campus was full of winter jasmine flowers. Every March, the breath of spring girl awakened their seeds, so they pulled out the green stems and bloomed into small pale yellow flowers, dotted like stars in the night sky. Among the green bushes, the slender green stems extend silently into the distance, hanging outside the corridor of the teaching building, forming a row of long green curtains, leaving a rich green shade in midsummer.

Looking out the window, I can always see the winter jasmine flowers swaying in the breeze with their smiling faces. I feel love and compassion in my heart, so I raise my little head like a silver bell and ask the teacher: "Teacher, what is this?" Flowers?" The teacher smiled, leaned down and said softly: "This is called winter jasmine. Wherever there are jasmine flowers, it feels like home." I nodded, staring at the teacher's golden eyes reflected by the jasmine flowers, and felt in my heart. The winter jasmine tree fell, leaving behind a vague impression of my hometown.

In the afternoon, I always like to fold a branch of winter jasmine and place it on the bedside. I will quietly indulge in the fragrance of jasmine and fall asleep, letting the subtle fragrance travel through my dreams. In the dream, the boys and I were flying kites on the Dongjing River embankment. There were green trees, moist soil, and bright sunshine. Looking along the long kite lines, there were also buildings like spring. They are springing up like bamboo shoots after rain.

In my spare time, I also love to admire the spring flowers on campus from the window, watching them crowded together and competing to bloom, just like us, growing together with the banner of youth high. Day by day, year by year, you can hear the rustling of their efforts, and you can also hear the sound of our reading. Accompanied by the spring flowers, the young faces turn into mature faces. , innocent children grew up into sensible teenagers.

I have also discovered this kind of light yellow winter jasmine in a place far away from home. I bent down to pick it up, but I didn’t feel friendly or have the familiar smell of my hometown. I felt so sad in my heart. It became very empty, as if a beloved treasure was missing. It was not until I returned to my hometown that the missing part was filled by childhood memories, which brought me a deep comfort, and the same feeling as my mother when I was emotionally depressed. A word of comfort given to me also warmed my heart for a long time.

I understand that winter jasmine grows in my hometown, in the paradise land of my childhood. There are not only jasmine flowers, but also hard-working people, busy streets and alleys, and moist air. , even the plants and trees also have the flavor of hometown, because that is where I grew up. No matter how far you go, there will always be a smell calling you all the time, and that is the taste of hometown. ——Inscription

I spent most of my childhood in the countryside, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, full of freshness and nature. At that time, my favorite food was the home-grown local product - fragrant taro.

In late August, the green figure like a lotus leaf has appeared at the head of the field, and its fruits are already growing latently. At this time, you can use a small spade to dig up two taros for a taste. The fresh and tender texture will leave you with an endless aftertaste, but if you want to eat the real deliciousness, you still have to wait.

By late September, grandma, who was very familiar with the taro growth period, had already made time to dig out a basket of palm-sized taro. The freshly unearthed taros are brown and white, and each one has a strange shape. It turns out that there are baby taros growing around the mother taro. When you break them open, you will find that most of them are oval-shaped, with brown "beards" all over their bodies, and many of them have... It is covered with a layer of moist soil. If you don't look carefully, you would think it is a small clod of soil. Even though it doesn’t look amazing, it tastes very unique.

Wash and peel, and the white meat will be highlighted. With a gentle touch of the hand, the secret of the delicious taste - stickiness is revealed. Put it in water, add a little oil, and boil it, which is the most common way. Of course, you may not be able to cook such game on a liquefied gas stove in an international metropolis. At grandma's house, the earthen stove can cook the most authentic taste. Put the useless straw into the stove to make a fire. As the firewood slowly extinguishes, the fragrance in the kitchen becomes stronger and stronger. Opening the lid of the pot, the white taro is almost transparent under the filtration of boiling water. They are constantly trembling with the boiling water, and the whole body secretes tiny silver threads and sticky soup, which makes people appetite. Open and quickly put the hot yam on the plate. Chinese food is very particular about color, flavor, flavor and shape. Why don't you go to your own field to find two young garlic leaves that have just grown, swipe them in the warm boiling water, cut them into pieces, and sprinkle them on the already ripe leaves? The transparent taro tops are alternately green and white, just like the steep hills dotted with touches of green, making people salivate. These taros, which are white and full of sweat, are the best reward for the farmers who go out early and come back late.

Are you greedy? Then quickly pick up the chopsticks and taste this delicacy in the world! However, the softness of the exterior of the fragrant taro will make you feel at a loss. It is not just the outermost layer that is like mud. The outer layer is normal; just use too much force and let the taro slip through your chopsticks. However, grandma has a trick. Find the center of the taro, poke it down with chopsticks, and you'll have delicious taro. When you take a bite, the fragrance overflows, and your mouth turns into small particles that are more delicate than bean paste, sticking together and as smooth as chocolate. When I ate into the middle of the taro, I found it had some toughness and a chestnut flavor. Open your mouth at this moment, and there are still some "silver threads" stuck to the upper and lower teeth. Take one bite after another, and the pure and authentic taro fragrance fills your mouth. The taste buds on the tip of your tongue are out of control. It is fragrant and delicious, even if it is sometimes burned. Breathing out, I couldn't bear to put it down, that warm taste filled my stomach...

Now, with the development of my hometown, the sweet potato has also been put on a "high-end" appearance, and is sent as a gift. Went all over the country. But under the exquisite packaging is the fragrant taro with a very rustic flavor that can never be concealed. It will convey your warmth to you in time.

I thought: No matter how far I go in the future, how many mountains and rivers I visit, and how many cities I visit, there will always be the smell of sweet potato lingering around me, bringing me warmth and traction. My way home.