Thema drucken
03.12.2019 07:14
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In this world, there are too many flavors that we need to taste and to taste. And in this, there is a taste that is worth our lifetime and the heart to experience. When I was young, I lived in my grandmother's house. My grandmother's face was deeply engraved in my mind: tall and fat body Marlboro Gold, plump face, a pair of tiny eyes and a pair of hands that can make many delicious dishes-one of them was due to a stroke No longer obedient Marlboro Lights, like a baby in his arms, bending inside. Although her grandmother can only work with one hand, her hand has become very dexterous because of repeated use: washing, cooking, knitting ... everything is all-around. In the years I stayed at my grandma's house, what impressed me the most was that my grandmother ��s kitchen was often used to help her when cooking. One day, my grandmother suddenly said to me, "I'll teach you how to cook!" So I started to finish my first dish, pickled cucumbers. I first picked a green cucumber from the basket. "Yes, go in your direction, gently and slowly--" I fixed the empty cucumber in one hand, holding a paring knife in one hand, and carefully scraping it. Melon peel. After the peel is finished, I wash the cucumber repeatedly. But because the hands and feet are too awkward, I did n��t pay much attention when I ��m shaving the cucumber. The cleaned cucumber looks like a man full of cripples. My grandmother joked: "Oh, my hands are really good. I can plan to make ugly monsters by shaving cucumbers!" I was not discouraged, I picked up the chopping board and prepared to cut cucumbers. "Come, I'll teach you!" I saw my grandmother pickily take the cucumber. "Look, so, cut it horizontally, then cut it diagonally ..." My eyes suddenly blurred when I looked at her sharp knife. : When did I live with my grandmother? Two or three years old! And now that I am almost ten years old, looking at my grandmother's gray hair and the hump in the back, my heart seems to be stabbed by something. Yeah, I'm growing up Newport Cigarettes, and she's getting old. I used to think that my grandmother had a lush tree, and I was a green leaf on the tree. She had endless nutrition for me to suck, but I never thought that this tree would grow old. I finished this dish with tears. How much my grandmother's affection is buried in this small pickled cucumber. When I pick up a slice of crispy cucumber and put it in my mouth, a sudden heat flows from my heart. Is it sad, helpless, or painful? No, I think, this kind of seemingly fragrant and sour taste should be the taste of love |
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