Onomatopoeic words describing dad's cooking.

The industrious father went home as soon as he got off work, opened the door and got into the kitchen. There was a quarrel between the faucet and the basin, and a lot of water was put in. Little green vegetables plunged into the basin and took a comfortable bath. The gas stove crackled and the flame went out. The oil jumped "zi zi", the little green vegetable jumped into the iron pot, and the shovel stirred it "Ding Ding", as if greeting my dear iron pot brother. Add seasoning, dad "clangs" out of the plate, puts the small vegetables in, and a plate of delicious small vegetables is ready. Dad took the vegetables to the table and went into the kitchen. The faucet sang a song, and several big bones jumped into the basin together. Dad put on gloves and put his hand into the washbasin to wash the blood off the bones. Bang, bang, bang. The bone was cut into small pieces. Dad took half a pot of water, put it on the gas stove and started to burn. Then he put the bone in, put some onions, some yellow wine, some salt and some vinegar on it for half an hour. Half an hour passed, my father opened the lid, took out a large cup, put the soup in and served it. After cooking two dishes, my mother came back and the three of us had dinner together.

Maybe everyone thinks cooking is a headache, but I found the fun of cooking today.

On my way home, I saw the wind whistling and the leaves rustling. As soon as I got to the corridor, a wisp of fragrance went straight to my nostrils, and I immediately ran up in one breath. When I pushed the door, I saw my mother cooking braised pork!

I saw my mother turn on the tap, wash the meat and put it on the chopping board, with fat meat standing in a row and lean meat standing in a row. When the hot pot is steaming, pour a little oil, and my mother will "jingle" it with a shovel a few times, and the oil will be evenly spread all over the bottom of the pot. When the fat is put into the pot, it will explode with heat. When Brother Skinny laughed at the fat, he poured it into the pot with a splash, and the fat and lean meat rolled up and down on the spatula. Immediately, a black pot cover rushed at them and everyone cooked together in the pot. After a while, my mother lifted the lid and poured in soy sauce and sugar. The meat was dyed red and the pot was bubbling.

After cooking for a while, when the soup was almost sucked dry by the meat, my mother sprinkled some salt and turned it over while frying. The red sauce makes the meat sticky, and the braised pork is finally ready! When the aroma permeates the whole kitchen, the braised pork has been smacked into the plate, and I, a greedy kitten, have put a piece in my mouth and chewed it. With a gentle bite, the oil of braised pork came out and almost burned my mouth!

What a wonderful kitchen symphony!