Mother is delicious and good at cooking, and has always been famous among friends and relatives.

When my mother was young, she was thin and "came to me like a colorful butterfly"-this is the description of her mother recorded by my father when I peeked at his diary later. Later, the "Butterfly Girl" disappeared and abandoned her waist, which was unbearable to hold. Years softened her into a fluffy cotton, and she became a white fat woman with exquisite cooking and unique taste in the gaps between giving her family washing my hands to make the bridal soup.

My mother never worried about her shapeless figure. After being teased, she laughed and said, "Gourmets are always like this!"

Mother often calls herself a "gourmet". Although she is joking, no one laughs at her. Who doesn't know that Liu Jie, who lives on the second floor of the east corner of the yard, has a terrible nose and tongue. She can accurately know all the ingredients in cooking by smelling the aroma. Stir the soup with chopsticks and suck it in her mouth. She knows all the seasonings used.

"Gourmet" can eat and cook. My mother's cooking is for me. When I was a child, I didn't like eating, and my taste was very picky. My mother worked hard to make me have another bite. In my memory, my mother always likes to cook her specialty-braised pork every winter when it is cold. A piece of fat, thin and ruddy pork belly was evenly cut by her mother, with spices such as clove, cinnamon and star anise. After stir-frying, add soy sauce and stew it with low fire. Slowly, the smell of meat crashed into the cold air, weaving a big net to pounce on my absent-minded homework. I held the hand warmer in one hand and pressed my homework in the other, craning my neck to look at the kitchen from time to time. Mother stretched out chopsticks to taste the broth, and then gave me a piece of meat: "Can I add some salt?" "Enough is enough." I chewed the meat and blew out hot air. I suggested, "Let's stew for a while." Mother put some sugar before cooking, saying it was fresh, scooped it up and put it in three bowls, and told me to send two of them to Aunt Wei next door and Grandpa Zhang downstairs. After the divorce, Aunt Wei took her son to live in the old house and became our neighbors, while Grandpa Zhang's children worked outside all the year round. They happily accepted the gift from their mother, knocked on my door a few days later, stuffed me with a handful of sugar, or sent me a jar of homemade sesame sauce: "My son can eat two bowls of rice with Liu Jie's braised pork." In the face of praising her mother, she smiled from ear to ear and repeatedly said her mantra: "Jaaksi! It is good for children to like to eat. "

My mother's personality is warm and hearty, and she is the most hospitable. She naturally doesn't want to hide such a craft, and she can always cook some food by herself and share it around all the year round. Picking fresh and tender Toona sinensis in spring to make Toona sinensis sauce; Stir-fried ginger candy in the kitchen on a hot summer day, crystal clear, drying in the sun is very beautiful; Wines and fermented bean curd made in autumn are lined up in a row; As a daughter-in-law of Dong family in winter, it is natural to smoke bacon and marinate two jars of fish and meat. In recent years, it is indispensable to entertain guests at home or give gifts to relatives and friends. Mother made it every year, and sent it every year. At first, it was entrusted by a familiar friend. Later, a strange phone called to ask her about the specific practices of some snacks. Mother generously gave it to her and looked flying.

There are times when mothers humbly ask for advice. My mother is a Han nationality, which is regarded as a "minority" in the Dong people's settlement. Dong people are sour and love to eat salted fish and meat, which is just my mother's "shortcoming". In order to make pure Dong food, every time my mother returns home with her father, she has to practice her unskilled Dong dialect and ask her aunt again and again about her cooking skills. But until now, my mother has not made any satisfactory results. I often see her waiting for a month. It turned out that she was constantly searching for the memory of her father's heart.

Mother's food contains love and kindness, and it is filled with the most common but warmest human feelings in the world. Whether inviting relatives and friends to be guests at home, or being invited to be a morning tea chef in a happy family, my mother always lays out a table of exquisite and delicious food with meticulous rigor. My mother looks at everyone's satisfied expression and smiles in the steaming food.

My mother's happiness helped my taciturn father develop a sense of humor in "gourmet communication", and I also liked cooking under the influence of my mother. On New Year's Day, my mother gave me the spatula in her hand, together with her "unique skills" accumulated by decades of kitchen experience. I often make a table of "creative dishes" that my parents rarely try on the basis of what my mother has taught me, and I stand at the table like my mother did after serving the last dish from the kitchen, looking at the smiles on their corners of the mouth and feeling my mother's happy mood at that moment.

So this is the meaning of brewing in food. It is pure and full of emotion, full of smoky life breath, but the happiness and pleasure slowly stripped from it can restore the inner truth.