Urgent! The topic of the essay is about the first time I cooked, using the narrative method, 500

Cooking for the first time

I have experienced many firsts, such as: the first time I learned to make a bicycle, the first time I mopped the floor...but they are better than Not as fun as my first time cooking.

I often stay at home alone during the summer vacation. I remember one time, my parents didn't come home very late. I was sitting on the sofa watching TV, and there was always the sound of my stomach growling in my ears. "Hey, there's really nothing I can do about it, my poor belly!" I said to myself. Suddenly, an idea came to my mind: My mother comes home from work every day and is exhausted from having to do so much housework. I should help my mother share some housework. Why not take this opportunity to cook a meal and show off my talents? It's a real skill, and it can also give this hungry belly a little "strength". It's really the best of both worlds. Just do it, I came to the kitchen and started to show off my skills. The first dish was tomato and egg soup. I first took out three eggs and two tomatoes from the refrigerator, then put the tomatoes in the sink to clean them, then cut them into pieces, put them in the pot, then used a bowl to get two bowls of water and poured them into the pot; I was about to crack the egg, "Hey, boy, you are so miserable!" I said proudly, the egg seemed to understand my words, I even broke it five times without breaking it, I was really exhausted, and finally I got angry and stabbed him into pieces with scissors. . I happily poured the egg whites and yolks into the bowl and stirred them quickly with chopsticks, then put them into the pot. Finally, put the lid on the pot, turn on the fire, and start cooking. After five minutes, I turned off the heat, opened the lid of the pot, and a burst of aroma poured into my nose and straight into my stomach. "It smells so good!" I said. Just as I was about to cook the second dish, a crisp and sweet doorbell called "Ding Dong, Ding Dong" came to my ears, and I hurriedly ran to open the door. My parents are back. They came back from buying fast food. Fortunately, they didn't buy soup, otherwise my tomato and egg soup would be eliminated.

The feeling of cooking for the first time was not bad. Although there was an "accident" on the way, my first dish was quite successful

I have many unforgettable experiences. memories, but the most unforgettable is the first time I cooked.

That day, my father and mother went out for something, and I was playing at home alone. It was almost evening, and I received a call from my father, saying that he and my mother had something to do outside, and that he would come back later to cook for me, and asked me if I could "do it" myself. Hey! Just what I want, I can show off my skills! I answered him: I can do it!

I immediately rushed into the kitchen and saw eggs, vegetables and some mushrooms in the refrigerator, and some leftover rice on the table. I had an idea and came up with egg fried rice! I picked up the leftover rice, poured it into the heating pot, and cracked two eggs into it. I recall that my mother always put a little "Arowana" peanut oil in whatever she cooked. I didn't know how much oil to put in, so I poured a big spoonful in. Unexpectedly, the oil in the pot made a "crackling" sound, which scared me and I quickly picked up the lid and covered it. I thought to myself: "Wow, did you put too much oil and the iron pot caught fire?" After a while, when the "crackling" sound stopped, I picked up the rice with my left hand, picked up the pot lid with my right hand, and quickly put the rice Pour in. After waiting for a while, the rice was hot, and I cracked two more eggs. After a while, the rice turned from white to yellow, and it also exuded an attractive fragrance. I checked the refrigerator again and found sesame oil and rice essence. With the addition of these two seasonings, the aroma of the rice becomes even stronger. I thought: "My parents will definitely praise me when they come back! Maybe they will also allow me to play on the computer!"

My parents came back and smiled happily when they saw the food I cooked. He also praised me: "Haha! My son can cook, and it tastes good! Keep working hard!" I felt sweet in my heart.

It was late at night, and I was lying in bed thinking about today's cooking, and I was very happy. Not because I received praise, but because I learned to help my parents share the pressure. I secretly made a mental effort: From now on, I will take the initiative to share my burdens with my parents and become a man.