Walking on the road, there will always be a pervasive fragrance, that is the flavor of sweet potatoes, so that people can not help but want to buy a taste, the following is organized by me for you "baked sweet potatoes essay high school", just for reference, welcome to read.

baked sweet potato essay high school (a)

Early in the morning, the sun has not yet climbed up, it seems to be very strenuous, very strenuous. The air, however, swirled early with the smell of baked sweet potatoes. Why is this picture so familiar, it seems, as if ...... oh, a few years ago that piece of groundnut is this flavor, sweet.

A few years ago that winter, the cold wind, snow, interpretation of the meaning of "cold". I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get the best out of this, but I'm sure you're going to be able to get the best out of this, and I'm sure you'll be able to get the best out of this.

In front of the school, I saw you.

You are still wearing that pair of worn cotton shoes, seems to have more than a few holes, followed by a bulk of bulky coat cover to the feet, the head is an extremely uncoordinated hat, calloused hands without a pair of gloves, his face is full of the vicissitudes of life, wrinkles have long been crawling all over the forehead, but still cheerfully busy fiddling with something in your cart. That is a modified iron stove, the stove from time to time sparks. You were baking sweet potatoes.

Then you suddenly looked up, you saw me, I saw you, you smiled, I smiled. You picked up a piece of groundnut, the big kind, and then, breaking it clumsily with those extra-large hands, gave half to your cousin and half to me.

I took the melon, immediately, a stream of warmth into the heart, the day is no longer cold, the road is no longer difficult, a piece of melon warmed the whole winter.

Turning to summer, you began to sell ice-cream and fruits again, and we, on the other hand, were always your free customers. The adults, of course, were reluctant. Yes, it's true that it's not easy for you personally to earn money! Just like that piece of groundnut, I don't know how many groundnuts you can sell one morning, or how much money you can earn from one groundnut, just know that you never ate your own baked groundnuts, and never cheated others. And you, with a hot piece of groundnut, warmed the hearts of two little girls, warmed the whole winter, and we, but did not say a thank you, did not call a third grandmaster

Perhaps, I do not know you, do not know the person who wears a coat in winter, do not know the person who sent me groundnut, do not know, do not know, until one day, suddenly heard that, you went away, went to the other side of the sky, no sadness The side of the sky where there is no sorrow. Maybe there, there is no one to let you buy baked potato, and there is no girl who received the potato you sent.

The day I went to your house, you were lying on the bed, not moving, it was still you, but I couldn't see your face, and you wouldn't send me a piece of groundnut anymore.

I did not cry, cousin did not, perhaps I do not know you, there is just a piece of roasted groundnut love it! But that roasted groundnut flavor memories, but will never change ......

A winter morning, a girl with the kind of gloves that reveal five fingers, holding a piece of roasted groundnut stood in front of the school, seems to be waiting for something, as if in the thoughts of what, but can no longer remember, who he is ... ...

Baked Sweet Potato Essay High School (2)

The season of warmth and cold, there are often raindrops floating in the air, like the world's travelers can not stop homesickness tears.

I left my hometown a long time ago to study in a different place, this time, it is again sweet potato ripe season. The mother of the family is busy helping the father unload the burden, the sweet potato one by one wash off, and then crushed into silk, feed pigs, dogs, ducks to eat. I often secretly pick up a few sweet potatoes and run to the back of the hillside where my father burned them in a mound of dirt and baked them.

I ran while whistling loudly, and my buddies, each with bare buttocks and bare feet, followed me to the mound. At that time, I was very godly because the sweet potatoes were mine and the mound was mine. I kept the biggest ones for myself and divided the rest of the small ones according to the age of my buddies. Some of them were not satisfied, so they pouted and wiped their black hands on their noses in displeasure, then wrenched their hands over to sassafras behind their backs, but in the end, they took the unwanted sweet potatoes. Everyone dug a good hole in the dirt to put the sweet potato in. I would look for the smokiest spot, and the little ones rightfully let me .

When the sweet potatoes were not baked, we played hide-and-seek, and I put a piece of rags from home firmly on the eyes of the youngest partner, so that he could not catch us for a long time, so that the innocent laughter swung for a long time not to go.

By the time the setting sun reddened the entire mountain village, the mound of dirt also wafted out a tantalizing aroma, filling the entire valley. We swarmed up and pulled out our favorite sweet potatoes. One by one, the black stuff rolled out of the mound, the little friends of the hand hot straight grinning or hard to break open, a stream of yellow flesh is presented in front of us. The warmth of the hot air intoxicated the mouth of the small friends. And I, this is especially anxious, because my sweet potato is too big not yet baked, so I go to grab others to eat. If you don't give it to me, I'll push up my sleeves and fight, and the smallest partner always cries and slobbers and gives up his beautiful "belongings". I was young and ignorant, I chewed a big mouthful of sweet potatoes with the smell of fire, but the aroma of sweet potatoes, that far away from my little friend to watch me eat the last piece, and he poorly ate the half-baked sweet potatoes. When the sun fell into the depression, we can not help but go home with a thick circle of "fake beard".

Soon after, there was a lot of whining and crying as the parents whipped the kids for baking sweet potatoes instead of working.

The sound of children's voices is the most intimate memory I have of my hometown. In such trivial memories, I often lamented that I took the sweet potatoes of the smallest partner, now even grew into a meter seven son of a big boy, and a circle of hairy beard on the mouth brake like just ate sweet potatoes left marks.

baked sweet potato essay high school (3)

Today is the second day of the "10-1" long vacation, wind and sunshine. I rode a motorcycle with my dad back to my hometown in the countryside. Walking in the countryside on the road, as far as the eye can see, everywhere presents a harvest scene. As far as the eye can see a golden wave, soybeans hanging heavy "grenade" bent lurking in the ground, corn like a sentinel stands in the ground, sweet potato leaves in a while we arrived home. I rushed out of the car and went to find my little nephews to play. We went to the field east of the village to catch crickets and grasshoppers. After playing for a while, we were all tired and sweaty, and our stomachs were hungry, but the adults hadn't cooked yet. So I said, "Let's go and steal some sweet potatoes to bake and eat." Said to do, iron egg home to bring a shovel, I and iron egg, Tian Chi and his party of three people to steal sweet potatoes squad, under the cover of tall corn, slipped into a sweet potato field. Tianci and I lie on the ground digging sweet potatoes, Iron egg there on sentry duty. Our hearts were thumping nervously, hearts in our throats, when suddenly the sweet potato I was digging broke with a click. Suddenly, Tie Dan, who was on sentry duty, said, "Little uncle, little uncle, someone is coming." I looked up and saw a man coming from afar, I hurriedly dug a few times and ordered to retreat deeper into the cornfield. In the cornfield, I asked Tie Dan, "Whose sweet potato are we digging?" Tie Dan said, "It's my family's." Alas! Stealing my own sweet potatoes! So we walked majestically to the sweet potato field and dug again. When we dug enough sweet potatoes for one person, we slipped out of the sweet potato field and went to a dry river ditch near the ground.

After we found the second group of people in the ditch, we dug a small, deep trench up the side of the ditch, which was the "oven". Then we went in search of firewood. After a while, we picked up a pile of firewood. I saw that the firewood was almost ready, so I put the sweet potatoes on the ditch horizontally, and put the firewood on top of them, ready to light the fire. At this moment, I touched my pocket, "Oh, no, I forgot to bring matches!" I had to send "shrimp soldiers" a member of the "crab will" a go home to get matches.

It wasn't long before the matches arrived. I was so happy that I shouted: we can finally bake sweet potatoes. I quickly lit the fire and sat there slowly adding more wood. Chai a little wet burn up, just smoke smoke, and more and more small, I see the fire will go out soon, then shouted; "fire to extinguish everyone hurry to blow a little faster to blow," we will be surrounded by a group of blowing up the side of the fire pit due to the ash too much, so we are into the "big flower face". We were all "big blossomed" because there was too much ash. After burning for about twenty minutes, we put all the firewood on and let it burn freely. Then we went to dig. When the firewood is almost burned out, we used the soil to seal the fire a tight, want to smother the sweet potatoes cooked a little.

When the sweet potatoes had been smothered for five or six minutes, I gave the order to start the meal, and my little nephews heard the order and rushed to dig up the earth and grab the sweet potatoes. As a result, I only grabbed a sweet potato not much bigger than my thumb. After they took a bite of the sweet potato they grabbed, they all spit it out. They said it was not cooked. I was skeptical and took a bite out of mine and said, "Mine's ripe, it's so sweet!" I was intentionally angry at them, and they looked at me with gluttony. Because I grabbed the sweet potato is too small, a bite is gone.

Baked sweet potato essay high school (4)

If you have read Lao She, then you nine times out of ten have had more or less nostalgic about the winter of Jinan, but in my case, the winter of Jinan, but it is a city overflowing with the sweet flavor of baked sweet potato.

This flavor, as early as when I was very young, has been y engraved in my heart.

I remember when I was a kid, although my parents were busy at work, my mom always insisted on picking me up every day, even if it was just to pick me up and bring me home and then go to work. But I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do to make it work. And I like it even more, not for anything else, just for the winter when my mom picked me up to buy me baked sweet potatoes.

The size of the baked sweet potato is not too big, looks a little "gray head and face", although its appearance, but there is a Qiankun, warm baked sweet potatoes in the hands, the first has been the cold dispersal of a small half, gently a break, a heat rising, orange-red melon flesh as if a small flame, jumping in front of the eyes, although not eaten, the heart has been warm. The heart is already warm. Groundnut that unique sweet aroma of breath desperately drilling into the nostrils, even the mood is infected, leaving behind the school day of depression and a belly full of complaints, not to mention the gluttony of the stomach, a bite down, soft and sticky groundnut not only filled the hungry stomach, but also make the cold run out of the dry. At that time, holding my mother's hand, holding a steaming hot melon, walking on the way home, for me is the happiest thing.

It is for this reason that I love the winter, filled with the smell of baked potato. But while winter after winter did not make me lose my love for baked zucchini, I longed for freedom even more.

Around the time I entered the fourth grade, I saw my friends around me wearing keys and monthly passes around their necks, able to go home by themselves, like a little adult, and making me envious. So, that winter, I really can't help it, back home, immediately begged my mother to let me go home by myself, but my mother refused to say anything, my temper came up, crying and screaming, and ultimately had no choice but to agree with my mother.

So the next day, I went to school in high spirits, it was not easy to get to school, today, no mom handed a long time ago to buy a good melon, had to buy their own, I picked right and left, and did not find the same size as usual, the appearance of not strange, had to casually let him pack a just took over, hot melon will be so hot that I almost threw the melon to the ground. Looking at the non-stop white gas, I had to carry it resentfully, temporarily cut off the idea of eating.

Walking on the way home, during the day, not about a few friends to come together gradually to a different direction, not far from home, but I found that I was the only one left, the heart of no reason to feel a little empty. Hold up has been carried in the hands of the roasted groundnut, still sweet breath but let me feel less something, still orange red flesh but feel not as fresh as in the past, still soft and sticky groundnut, eat in the mouth but did not have any feeling, piercing cold wind came, let me can not stop shivering, bite by bite the groundnut, but no warmth in the past. I did not come to have started to think of the mother, but forced myself not to think of her, I told myself to be strong, I will be a big child ......

I can not remember exactly how that day before returning home, but just remembered to go home, see the parents, see the family that kind of sense of relief, but also at that moment, I just realized that the The flavor of the sweet baked potato, that warm flavor, not only contains the flavor of the potato itself, but also cohesion from the mother's concern, their own nesting birds after the peace of mind.

Nowadays, I am not as young and clumsy as I was at that time, I started to live in the school, started to go out with my classmates to practice, and the busyness of the schoolwork also made me not able to return to the days of a baked potato every day in the winter. But in my opinion, the sweet smell of roasted groundnuts is still the most beautiful flavor in winter. Whenever I am frustrated, stung by difficulties, and fall into the winter of my life, I always seem to be able to smell the sweet flavor, which brings me strength and vitality, and encourages me to continue to move forward.

The smell of baked sweet potato - this aroma full of flavor, this flavor full of love, in my heart, will never dissipate.

Baked Sweet Potato Essay High School (5)

Buy Baked Sweet Potato The sky is cloudy and gloomy, and I can't see a bit of sunshine. At this time my mood is just like the weather today, looking at the New Year, but there is no point originally due to the joy. The noon has come, mom went shopping has not come back. At this time my stomach grumbled incessantly, but I am still waiting, because I still have a belief in my heart - and endure it, mom will come back. Time passes, turn to one o'clock, it seems that the hope is very slim.

So they are ready to go out to buy some food. The first thing I noticed was the familiar baked sweet potato stove, and the shivering grandfather was sitting on the side reading the newspaper. It's past noon, and there are only a few pedestrians on the road, and even the cars are fewer, except for his sweet potato oven, which is smoking and has a tantalizing aroma. Perhaps the sweet potatoes are not sold out, perhaps the content of the newspaper is too exciting, he did not close the stall. I quickly walked up to him, glad that I came at the right time. "Does old grandpa still have sweet potatoes?" I asked. "Yes," he said as he stood up. "How big are they?"

I look at this head, may not be able to eat. Just want to speak, the old grandfather has been nimble weighing finished. "Little girl, five dollars." The old grandfather said smilingly. After loading, he took out a small one and put it in, "I'll give you another one, I can't sell them all anyway." Looks like I'll be able to find something for dinner. When I paid, I realized I only had 4 yuan with me, and I hadn't planned to buy so many. "Old grandpa, I only brought four dollars, I'll tell you what, I'll bring it out to you later." After saying that, I ran all the way back home, put down the sweet potatoes and took another dollar.

When I reappeared, the old grandfather was still reading the newspaper. When I handed him the money, he looked a little surprised, smiled and said "Thank you!" I was at a loss for words. I opened my mouth to say something, but all I could get out was a meaningless "uh" and ran home again. I don't know what he thanked me for, but I had a very good meal.