It's my first time to cook. When I was young, I was probably in the third grade of primary school. Family didn't come back to play with friends. I was too hungry to play, so I cooked together. I ate fried broccoli armed to the teeth. To tell the truth, my seasoning completely imitated my mother's practice, but I didn't expect it to be delicious. The second time was when I grew up, because I talked about my boyfriend, I wanted to grab his stomach first. Compared with the recipes found online, the first time I cooked carefully, the taste was very good. Look, he's finished eating. There's no soup left. Then I found that I had a gift for cooking. Basically, I put seasoning by feeling, and I failed once. That time, I was cooking the mutton that I hated the most at that time. I took out the meat and thawed it in half, but forgot to add ginger. I feel poisoned after eating it.