Sometimes, some delicious food may be remembered by us, but sometimes, the mediocre food at home may be remembered by us. This article was carefully edited by me. I hope it can help you! Memory on the Tip of the Tongue Essay Part 1
In that month in Rongcheng, the streets and alleys were filled with a strong flavor of the New Year. Red lanterns hang all over the streets, the lively sound of firecrackers can be heard, and auspicious Spring Festival couplets hang on the door curtains...it's so lively!
When I was a child, I didn't know the concept of "nian". I only knew that the new year would come as soon as the rice cakes came out of the basket. At that time, my grandma was still in good health. Every Chinese New Year, she would steam several baskets of rice cakes herself, symbolizing a better future in the coming year. It is this special taste that has become an eternal memory on the tip of my tongue.
In the twelfth lunar month, dawn always comes late. When my grandmother and I went to the street to grind rice paste, it was still dark. But this did not dampen the enthusiasm of the villagers in the town to purchase new year's goods - a steady stream of pedestrians and tricycles crowded the ancient town. The sound of shouts and firecrackers came and went one after another, seeming to differentiate between high and low.
When I got home, my grandma used heavy objects to tightly compress the cloth bag containing the rice milk. When the water was squeezed out the next day, grandma took out the glutinous rice balls that had become lumps and put them into a big basin. Add peanut oil, brown sugar, peanuts, red dates and other ingredients. After repeated kneading, the brown sugar and other ingredients are completely integrated into the glutinous rice dough. When the glutinous rice dough becomes more flexible, it can be poured into a steamer lined with rice cake leaves and steamed.
At this time, grandma was finally able to wipe away her sweat and rest on the sofa. At this time, my grandma always told me the story of her and rice cakes for many years. When she was a little girl, she helped her mother make rice cakes. In that era when there were no sweets and toys, grandma was extremely happy if she could eat a piece of rice cake. "There were many sisters at that time, and they were all rushing to eat!" He said with a knowing smile. Perhaps it is a special complex. Whenever grandma talks about making rice cakes by herself, she always beams with joy, and her wrinkled face cannot hide the unusual pride. When I mentioned that I loved to eat her steamed rice cakes, I was so happy that I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.
Looking for the faint aroma, grandma walked into the kitchen, opened the lid of the pot, sprinkled red dates on the nine-ripe rice cake, and handed a few to me: "It's booming, how auspicious!" "Grandma murmured, full of joy. Not long after, the rice cake was cooked. Grandma cut off a piece and put it into my bowl. I picked it up and took a bite. It was soft, with a hint of sweetness and a strong feeling of love. The sticky and delicious rice cake awakened every taste bud in me, and memories from the past came flooding back. The aroma of brown sugar, glutinous rice, dates, and simple leaves all ripple across the lips and teeth, instantly bringing enjoyment to the taste and shock to the soul. In order to satisfy the preferences of her children and grandchildren, and to pass on the taste, my grandmother in her sixties would steam several baskets of rice cakes without fail, no matter how hard and busy she was. But because she suffers from diabetes, she has not tasted the sweetness of rice cakes for many years, so she can only turn it into a memory forever. . . . . .
Some people say that a taste can awaken a memory. Now, I finally understand the truth of this sentence. Why do I have a deep nostalgia for this rice cake? It turns out that behind this delicious taste on the tip of my tongue, there is my grandmother’s inheritance of customs, and this is not a continuation of love. ? Memory on the Tip of the Tongue Essay Part 2
Sometimes, some delicious dishes may be remembered by us, but sometimes, the mediocre food at home may be engraved in our hearts.
——Inscription
Once upon a time, as soon as I stepped in the door and shouted "I'm back", I was greeted by my mother's simple smile and dishes of colorful and fragrant food. , delicious dishes with all kinds of taste. Whenever I look at the fragrant delicacies, I feel a strange feeling in my heart, and I want to sweep them away. Inhale its aroma and then pick up the plate beautifully. She swallowed him whole, touched her swollen belly happily, and went to the desk to start doing homework with her heart full of joy. Every day, I greet every night's homework with such joy.
However, if you eat too much of the same thing, you will always get tired of it. I started to complain about the dishes my mother cooked and refused these dishes that I thought were delicacies in the past.
Once, I went to travel abroad. According to friends, there are many famous snacks in this place. If you don’t taste the famous snacks here, it would be a waste of time to visit here. So I decided to check out what my friends call famous snacks. When I came to the snack street and looked at the dazzling array of food, my eyes lit up. I quickly ran to the food stall and decisively bought a bite of this thing and a taste of that thing. On the first day, I ate these so-called famous snacks, which were really good. On the second day, I could taste these delicacies again. On the third day, these delicacies no longer aroused my interest. I suddenly wanted to eat the hometown dishes my mother cooked for me. I wished I could give up traveling immediately and go home and ask my mother to cook me a big table of hometown dishes that make my mouth water now. Finally, I dragged my exhausted body back home. Looking at the dishes from my hometown that I had not seen for a long time, I felt a shock in my heart. Smelling the rich aroma, the cloudy eyes in my eyes suddenly brightened up. Looking at the bright dishes, I couldn't help but quickly picked up the chopsticks and brought the dishes to my mouth like a wind. The excitement hidden in my heart came again. Got inspired.
I suddenly realized that what was touching the tip of my tongue was not just delicious food, but the memory of my mother and the longing for home! As the delicious food touched the tip of my tongue, the memory of my mother gradually came out in my heart. , overflowing into my heart.
When the tip of my tongue collides with my mother’s cooking, I feel not only the delicious taste, but also my deep longing for my mother’s love and pampering. This kind of longing, like the food of dreams, lingers on the tip of the tongue for endless aftertaste.