Reading 丨 "It's not the kind of taste made by your mother"

The niece Xiao Yan ate the onion oil cake I just made, and admired: "Many layers, fragrant, delicious." Then he immediately added, "However, the grandma is the best to make."

After speaking, she turned to look at me and laughed slyly.

The 16 -year -old girl already knows how to use this kind of cunning. I know that even if this kind of hitting the whole noon, I would not be angry. After all, the person she borrowed from my cooking skills was my mother.

Also, if you change others, I will be unhappy while praising others while doing so hard.

Because this green onion cake is really delicious, not thick, but there are many thin levels -for this level and fragrant taste, I have also worked hard. I have tasted it for friends before, and they all say that the aroma is overflowing and the home is often delicious.

However, it is really what Xiao Yan said, "It is the most authentic onion cake made by grandma." Even I feel that no matter how to ask my mother, such as the hard and hard of the dough, the amount of oil, the fineness of the shallots, the fineness of the onion flowers, the fineness of the onion flowers, And the control of the heat ... The last onion cake made is always a little worse than the taste made by the mother.

Xiaomi and I grew up with the onion oil cake made by my mother. For us, as long as you see the words "onion oil cake", the taste buds will automatically appear that taste. "the taste of.

No matter how different, how high the quality or the chef is from the hands of the chef, the heart only determines the original feeling in my heart. In the matter of "the persistence of taste buds", middle -aged and me and the young Xiaoxia are not different.

So, her evaluation, I recognize it.

Of course, I didn't understand it at the beginning.

That year, my father came to the city where I lived a big operation. After eating the high -nutrition soup in the restaurant for a few days, my father was tired and said, "I want to drink a bowl of soup for a bowl of chicken protein."

Veterin soup is one of the standard breakfasts in my home, and the method is also very simple: a small amount of flour is tuned into a paste, poured into a boiling water pot, slowly stirred into a thin noodle soup, boiled in low heat for two or three minutes, hit one for one, and beat one of one. The scattered egg flowers slowly poured in, then turned off the heat, mixed the appropriate amount of salt, and added a few drops of sesame oil to become it.

I have never made a protein soup, I just know it, so I called my mother. After seriously asking for advice, I made a copy. Take a taxi to the hospital, but seven or eight minutes, the hot soup in the pot still exudes the unique fragrance of sesame oil.

Looking forward to looking at his father a few sips, he saw him frown slightly: "It's not the kind of taste made by your mother."

My father didn't say that it was not good, but just said that it was not that kind of taste.

Later, I repeatedly did it, but until my father was discharged, he was not recognized as the bowl of chicken protein soup. Back at home, the mother handed the bowl of soup she made, and the father just sniffed it, and his eyebrows opened.

At that moment, I understood that what my father wanted was not a bowl of soup, but the taste made by the mother.

His father was poor since he was a child, and he couldn't eat in vain when he was young. Eggs are luxury goods of that era. There are no special needs, and their own do not use it to cook. At the age of 18, his father left home and went to the troops.

Then, the first bowl of soup he drank should be made by his wife and my mother after getting married.

At that time, they were all young. In simple breakfast, there was occasionally a bowl of soup. Since then, the taste has been burned into his father's taste buds. The years have flowed and never changed.

And I didn't tell Xiao Yan. She once recognized the bowl of "the best onion noodles in the world" in my cooking skills, but it was not "the most authentic".

Many years ago, when she was like her, my father was transferred to work outside. In the summer vacation, I went to see him. The first dinner he ate was a bowl of green onion noodles he cooked for me.

The bowl of green onion noodles, the ingredients are only one small onion. The father just chopped the shallots, sautéed with a little oil. After adding water to boil, he put a small handle of the noodles and cooked it. However, it was the best bowl of noodles I have ever eaten.

After his father retired, he never got off the kitchen. Xiaoya was born late, and naturally did not taste the onion noodles made by his father. In her memory, Grandpa is good, but she doesn't cook.

But I don't know, she regards the delicious bowl of green onion, which is the grandfather who can not cook in her mouth, leaving me -his daughter's most delicious memory.

Probably the world is delicious, there are no external memories.

Wen: Ningzi

Source: "Reading" 2022, Issue 5 丨 Original Title: "Taste"

Responsible editor: Zhang Chu Tianwen (intern)

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