Chapter 1: No matter how far we go, in our minds, only the smell of home is familiar and stubborn. It is like a taste positioning system. No matter where home is, it will always keep the taste in the depths of memory. In my memory, the smell of home is the smell of grandma and aunt, which has been lingering on my tongue.
I spent my childhood in my hometown with my grandmother, but I haven't come back for a long time now. Walking in the familiar corridor again, once again pushing open the rusty iron gate that is familiar and unfamiliar, the breath of loved ones comes to my face. Grandma saw me when she came in, as if caught off guard, and quickly moved the bench to get chopsticks: "Come, come and eat!" " "Grandma greeted me with authentic Anhui dialect. I put on my shoes, sat at the table and looked up. I saw a rich and simple lunch: a bowl of rice, in which the rice grains slept quietly, and the fleshy face was clean and flawless. Grandma always puts a drumstick ahead of time when eating. The chicken legs are shiny and the meat is tender and refreshing. The five seasonings in the chicken soup complement the meat quality of the chicken. Take a sip, the aroma of seasoning and the authentic taste of chicken are generated together, which brings the greatest satisfaction to the taste buds. This is my favorite and grandma's best dish. At the dinner table, grandma always proudly praised her craft to me, and I just smiled. Sometimes, she will keep putting food into my bowl, but I always want to have my own choice. This is what she often says: "Can you eat these at ordinary times? I haven't eaten yet! "Yes, it's not just my grandmother's cooking, but the taste my grandmother gave me. Here, the taste of home is the taste of braised chicken legs, which is rich, heavy and memorable.
Unlike my grandmother, my aunt is from northern Anhui, and now she is a "laid-off" Chinese teacher, taking care of my grandfather at home and taking care of us for three meals a day. At ordinary times, she always likes to ponder something delicious at home. What I covet most is her salad. The finely chopped Muyu flower falls brilliantly on the green intertwined with broccoli, cauliflower and string beans, and lemon juice flashes through menstruation's fingers. Small tomatoes in two colors are delicate and bright, reminiscent of loose rotating skirts; Radish is cut very thin and almost translucent. However, when you put the big salad in your mouth, the crisp taste is still clear. It is precisely because it is thin and spicy that it becomes a little joy hidden in tomatoes, transparent and clear, with a little blasting joy. It's comfortable to watch my aunt make salad. While drinking her black tea, I watched her wash, cut and mix like running water, and occasionally tasted the lowered sauce, with a happy smile on my face. At this time in menstruation's house, the taste of home is fresh and leisurely, just like this salad, full of fragrance.
Where is home? Home is between heaven and earth, under the eaves, in the smiling face of a family of three, and in the meekness of three generations, it is everyone's love and all the beautiful space. Home is warm, it is * * *, it is the thick light on the tip of the tongue, it is the endless aftertaste between words, which makes us inseparable. Home, home on my tongue!
Chapter 2: Home Composition on the Tip of the Tongue Just after the Dragon Boat Festival, there is still the lingering fragrance of Zongzi in the corners of the mouth. This lingering fragrance is like a silk thread that binds zongzi, closely connecting the tip of the tongue with home.
The home on the tip of the tongue can no longer be ordinary, even comparable to Liu Yuxi's "Humble Room Inscription". A two-bedroom apartment of more than 50 square meters can barely become furniture except a pair of old-fashioned sofas squeezed in the corner, and it is more appropriate to describe it as a family with four walls. Oh, no! All the awards I got from primary school to kindergarten are still posted on the wall, accounting for two sides.
Home is small, but warm. Happiness is as ubiquitous as air. The happiest thing is, of course, the tip of my family's tongue and everyone who comes to my house for dinner.
The happiness on the tip of the tongue comes from the mother's hands-those hands that can turn ordinary into magic! Magic hands!
Mother is a born cook. A very ordinary potato, a piece of tofu, a handful of beans, a piece of pork, a cabbage, a ball of dough, a bowl of glutinous rice ... In my mother's hand, I was so obedient that I became a series of unforgettable foods on the table of my father and guests: white shredded vinegar potatoes made your mouth water; Stewed tofu makes you unforgettable; Braised pork makes your mouth water ... and my mother's handmade noodles are thin, long, even, chewy and delicious, plus scallion shredded cucumber, mung bean sprouts, tomato and egg gravy, sesame sauce or diced pork fried sauce, which makes you want to eat another bowl after eating until there is no room in your stomach. It can be said that I have never been to a restaurant and eaten "Old Beijing Zhajiang Noodles". Because I know that even the most authentic slag river will be eclipsed in front of her mother's slag river, and she will not have the slightest appetite. The red dates and lotus seeds cooked by my mother are black and glutinous rice porridge, which are not only excellent in color matching, but also feast your eyes-white in black and white in red, like a crystal clear Hetian jade in a bowl. Moreover, it is delicious and nutritious, so that people who have drunk this porridge will never forget it. The white flour cake baked by my mother is crisp, soft and fragrant, with many layers. I bet, as long as you see it, you don't have to eat any food, you will gobble up a cake in an instant. Because, once I ate two cakes in a row-my mother's second cake has not been put into the pot, and the first one has become something in my stomach. As soon as the second cake came out of the pot, I couldn't wait to pick up a bread roll and chew it-causing my mother to "strike" to "protest" my overeating. Of course, my mother is mainly afraid of bursting my stomach!
This is home on the tip of my tongue! Being born in this family is my luck in my last life, and it is also my blessing and honor! If there is an afterlife, I will come to this home again!
Chapter 3: Home on the tip of the tongue is reflected in the mother's extreme hospitality and generosity!
In my impression, no matter on weekends or festivals, there are almost no visitors at home-sometimes my aunt, uncle, aunt, uncle, aunt, cousin and other relatives, sometimes my parents' colleagues, and sometimes even my classmates will come after listening to my introduction ... and my mother has never been impatient with the guests and has always been very enthusiastic. My mother often says, "When people come, look up to us! This face is great! Without this popularity, you will put delicacies at home, and you will not come to invite others! " So this scene is not uncommon in our family-mom shows her magic in the kitchen, and the guests sit on the sofa or on the bed or on the floor and chat. As soon as mom's cooking comes up, the guests (including my father and me, of course) will shine at the moment. Watching us eat and drink, mother showed a satisfied smile. Because she knows that sweeping the food on the table is her highest reward!
Home on the tip of the tongue is reflected in the aroma of mother's dumplings!
In the past Dragon Boat Festival, our family was more lively. Because there were several uninvited guests-several netizens came to our house early in the morning of the Dragon Boat Festival, because they saw an article on the Internet introducing their mother's cooking skills: one was to taste the boiled zongzi wrapped by their mother, and the other was to learn the skills of wrapping zongzi from their mother. The mother also generously promised to give each guest five zongzi (three to eat and two to take home) and let the guests watch the whole process of her mother wrapping zongzi, and allowed video recording. So, in full view, my mother began to make zongzi. Jiaozi wrapped by my mother is made of ordinary glutinous rice, and the stuffing is also red dates, red bean paste and medlar. The reed leaves wrapped in zongzi are fresh-that is, the fresh reed leaves in Baiyangdian Lake, which is the fragrance of reed leaves. The silk thread wrapped in zongzi is colored. Mother began to wrap zongzi: she first folded the soaked reed leaves into rhombic or triangular oval rectangles ... then put the soaked glutinous rice, washed red dates, red bean paste and medlar into the reed leaves, and then tied the zongzi leaves with five-color silk thread, so the rhombic, triangular, oval and rectangular zongzi were born gloriously and neatly stacked on the beat made of straw ... Then, it was like this. Zongzi is usually cooked for five or six hours. After cooking, soak in cold water for more than two hours. Then peel off the leaves of zongzi. Whisked, red zongzi sits on a long blue disc, like a doll, accompanied by natural bauhinia honey from my hometown. The smell of reed leaves, glutinous rice, red dates and honey in the air is refreshing and refreshing to the nostrils-people can't help but hate it.
This is home on the tip of my tongue! Students, don't you envy my good luck in being born in this family?
Chapter four: Home on the tip of the tongue Everyone has a unique understanding of "home" and different feelings about the food at home. These foods, whether sweet, sour or spicy, can maintain the ordinary happiness of this family and become the symbol, totem and taste of the family. ...
"The wheels are rolling. Come on!" Grandma's voice sounded, and the friendly local accent and loud call brought me to the kitchen. The whole kitchen is hazy because of the dense steam. On the old stove, there is a mottled black pot, vaguely approaching. When I saw the rice porridge boiling in the pot, it seemed that there were still a few yellow croaker floating up and down with the stirring of water. "Glug" braved the steam, and the heat turned into white smoke, caressing my cheek and surrounding me. Grandma took out a bowl and handed me a big spoon. Holding a spoon as old as a pot, I began to "fish".
Fill a bowl of golden millet porridge first, and then "salvage" my own "wheels rolling" This is a kind of wheel bread with a pure yellow surface. It's wet and slippery because it's soaked in water. I tried to escape several times and slipped into the pot.
I put the smallest wheel in its bath soup. The golden thin rice porridge is covered with slippery "wheels rolling" and a few mouthfuls of sour and crisp vinegar mixed with cucumber. Just thinking about it makes people salivate.
I can't wait to put it in the yard. The yard of my hometown cabin is still so cool. I put the bowl on the cold stone table and felt the coolness of Xia Feng, driving away the sultry and fidgety. Sitting in grandpa's rocking chair, the wooden chair creaked, mixed with the opening song of the news broadcast that grandpa watched on time every night. That kind of comfortable feeling makes my mouth curl up involuntarily. Bite open the skin made of corn flour, which is smooth and simple. The fragrance of corn and the taste of waxy corn make me close my eyes, enjoy the warmth of home and experience the beauty of the world with my heart. Take another bite, and the brown sugar in the cake will flow into your mouth, sweet and warm. When it swings on the tip of your tongue, that kind of happiness will spread all over your body, awakening and stimulating every taste bud. This may be the taste of home!
After I came to Beijing, I ate more and more delicious food, but I couldn't forget the taste of "rolling wheels". It is simple, fragrant, sweet and waxy, touching every cell in my body. Its structure is just like my lovely little family. Its appearance is simple and ordinary, emitting elegant and pure fragrance, but its heart is hot and sweet. Every member of the family loves each other and is intimate. The wheels are rolling forward and heading for the future.
Chapter 5: Home on the tip of the tongue is the place where one's life begins and one's life is concerned. Taste is the symbol of home and the carrier of family inheritance. The flavor lingering on the tip of the tongue is the eternal soul of a noble family.
At five o'clock in the morning, it was just dawn. She came to the vegetable market, where the freshest food of the day was gathered, and the family's diet began here. Shuttling between vendors, she carefully selected ingredients, such as green cucumbers, bright red tomatoes and lively prawns ... After selecting the ingredients, she hurried home to make breakfast for her daughter. "Hey, get up! Just right, the egg noodles have just come out of the pot. " Looking at her sleepy daughter, she quickly said hello. Egg drop noodles are her own breakfast. Starch-rich noodles, with the smell of new wheat, can provide energy for their daughters all morning after being converted into carbohydrates; Eggs are the guarantee of nutrition, and growing daughters are rich in amino acids. This is not only delicious nutrition, but also the embodiment of family affection. She blended her deep love for her daughter into the taste of noodles.
She is racing against time. The busy figure in the kitchen has a leisurely skill. Luo Songtang, candied meat, sweet and sour fish, celery and lily, the standard three dishes and one soup, were finished just before the daughter entered the door. She wiped her sweat and ran to open the door. "What a coincidence! The dish has just been done. " What a coincidence. She seized every minute. The combination of meat and vegetables and fish is an affirmation of her daughter's study in the morning. Daughter can not only get energy supplement, but also get nutrition increase. It's a lot of comfort to watch my daughter grow up slowly because of food. The feeling of My Sweetie crossed my mind, leaving a sweet and happy taste.
My daughter didn't eat dinner at home. Tired, she went into the kitchen, put the washed rape into the pot, and watched the green Chinese cabbage in close contact with the oil, which finally added a touch of bright color to this humble dinner.
After eating in a hurry, I hurried to prepare millet porridge for my daughter and prepare for self-study the next night. Taomi, boiling, these actions have been done countless times, and each time they have different feelings. Golden rice grains and boiling water blend and dance in the pot and slowly blend into one. Steam came out of the pot and floated in the air. Slowly, blurred the figure. She turned off the switch and sat in the living room, quietly waiting for her daughter to come back the next moment. ...
Three meals day after day, colorful meals, sweet and sour taste, are all the same love. Tie the ties of family ties and give birth to various flavors. In this kind of food, love and taste collide, sparking the spark of home.
The taste of home is not only on the tip of the tongue, but also in the heart.