I have a story about potatoes.

Most importantly, the world can't stay, and Zhu Yan's words are reflected in the mirror.

? Of all the things in the world, there is always one thing that you can't forget, and there is always one thing that haunts you forever. Small potatoes are my eternal memory. I remember that day:

? That day, grandma walked into the crowd with the help of her aunt and asked anxiously and flustered, "Who had an accident?" When she saw the lifeless figure on the ground, she rushed forward in despair and shouted "Dear, Baby ……" But there is a rule in my hometown that tears of relatives are not allowed to touch the dead. We can only hold grandma tightly and let her struggle, but she almost fainted several times when she was already in poor health.

? In the evening, my aunt cooked a big pot of potatoes among us. They were salty, but no one could eat them alone. Growing up, it was the most reunion of my family! The difference is that this time, we lost our old laughter, lost our old hippie slapstick, and were all immersed in sadness. Potatoes are steaming, but the fog it sends out reminds me of the past scenes. ...

I have two uncles, one is a gentleman and the other is lively. Maybe it's children's playful nature. Since childhood, the whole family likes to go out to play with my little uncle. ...

? That summer, potato seeds just sprouted. I just learned to walk. It was the first time in my memory that I met that sunny boy. I like to run after him every day, even if the company commander is not long, I often shout "little uncle, little uncle, wait for me, wait for me"?

"Don't, you walk faster! Slow to death! " He always leaves a shadow for me, but every time I rush to the intersection, I can often see him standing at the corner quietly looking at the distant "scenery".

? He was a naughty boy when I was a child. In his world, one of his great hobbies is bullying me! At that time, every time Grandma fed the pigs, we would always bury a few potatoes in the ash, and the potatoes would be cooked after feeding the pigs. At this time, the little uncle took it out, black paint and hemp, like carbon. He will take a dustpan, throw the "black charcoal" in, shake it left and right, and the black skin outside will fall off layer by layer, leaving a golden shell, golden and even a very pure fragrance floating out. Every time we catch it, we wolf it down. The last one left forever will fall into his hands, and he will deliberately hold it high, make me cry and make me make trouble, but no matter how I cry and make trouble, he will ignore me. Until I was about to give up, he would give me airs. I was about to collect it when he broke his hand and ate the whole potato. He often bullies me like this, either to let me "look at things I am interested in from a distance, but don't feel ridiculous" or to let me deeply understand what is powerless. Anyway, I cried and he was happy. It seems that most of my crying when I was a child was concentrated by my little uncle. Even if grandma and uncle want to manage it, they can't. But I still like to follow him, crying and cursing "smelly uncle" …

? In that beautiful season, potatoes grow into seedlings. I am no longer the girl who always cries. Every time I go to my grandmother's house, she will wash the potatoes directly, cook them into raw potatoes for us to eat, and then serve them with marinated tofu made by herself. Maybe things at home will always smell better than those outside! My uncle and I like it very much, especially the outermost skin of marinated tofu, which has all kinds of seasonings and is full of a different flavor.

? Once it snowed heavily, my uncle and I surrounded the fire, and my grandmother brought us a bowl of potatoes and a large bottle of marinated tofu. Eating eating, my uncle suddenly smiled at me:

? "Do you know what you are eating?"

? I know it's not delicious, but I'm still a little curious about what he's going to play, Mother, "Potatoes marinated with tofu!" You don't even know this. "

? "Oh, still know! Do you know how to make marinated tofu? "

? "Well ... I don't know."

? "Don't know? Then I'll tell you, this is made by putting the tofu block into the mold, waiting for it to grow into a mold of two or three centimeters, and then putting some seasoning on the mold. Alas, I don't know if those rotten potatoes in the house are moldy, tut tut, alas, alas ... "

? "You lied to me, even if there is mildew, you must have washed it!"

? "Why should I lie to you? The most flavorful, the most fragrant thing you eat is not the mold, don't believe it? Call your grandmother and ask if what I said is true! Ha ha, "he said, and deliberately picked a large piece of marinated tofu into his mouth, with a smile on his face, and showed it to me.

? "..." And I, watching the food, can't eat chopsticks abruptly. It was not until he ate all the marinated tofu that I realized that I was fooled by him again. It's just Mucor!

? That year, some potatoes blossomed. I live with my parents, who often live in school. Sometimes, I haven't seen him for a long time, and he will come to my house for a few days. Once, he brought back a big bag of sunflower seeds. I joked while eating melon seeds: "Uncle, why don't you buy cream?" I like cream. "He glared at me and said," Some dishes are good, and you are picky about food. "The next day, I came home from school and saw a bag of buttered sunflower seeds on the table.

? He will simply shave his head because he has a few small white hairs. I laughed at him. "This is a desert where even potatoes can't be planted!" He ignored me and continued to eat potatoes and watch TV, so I put my hand directly on his head and rubbed his bald head. He didn't get angry, just picked me up and bent down deeply, almost tripping me up, so he had to give up. But he just put me down, but I pulled my cousin and shouted, "Little old uncle, little old uncle …" It's rare for him to get angry. I felt really good at that time!

? Since he got married and had children, he stopped fooling around and became mature and steady. At that time, he often worked as a temporary driver for my grandmother's house. In fact, as long as he is at home, he picks me up every time I go to grandma's house. But we don't go to the destination honestly. We often eat fried potatoes at street stalls first, and then wait until I'm full. Until now, I still remember that potatoes were thrown into oil and fried, and they would have a golden luster after being taken out. Different from burning potatoes, the golden color of the fire is unpretentious, but it can be fragrant to people's hearts; The fried golden color is bright and oily, but it is best to add various seasonings. What can compare with the potatoes buried deep in grandma's fire?

? Teachers and friends, brothers and fathers, that's what he means to me! I like potatoes, and so does he. He often said, "Zhaotong people, no matter where they go, as long as they have potatoes, they will not be hungry." I smiled and secretly put all the potatoes left on the plate into my bowl while he was unprepared.

? He said to me, "You, go and scrape some potatoes, and remember to add salt when cooking. It's delicious. " I gave him a white look and went to the kitchen with the basin honestly.

? He also said: "It's a pity that you are a female doll, otherwise I will take you to see the outside world." I smiled and told him, "Who says women are not as good as men?" ...

? Now, I still feel that my little uncle seems to be dozing off on the sofa, but when he turns around, there is only one empty seat; Sometimes I want to go to grandma's house. If I dial a familiar number, there will be a strange voice "The subscriber you dialed does not exist ..." I can only go to the bus stop by myself. It seems that he always makes me cry. He made everyone miss him except for an accident.

? Most importantly, the world can't stay, and Zhu Yan's words are reflected in the mirror. I don't know why, he is often called "little old uncle, little old uncle" by us, but he closed his eyes forever. He didn't wait until the day when his hair turned white, which was the time when he was full of vigor and vitality.

? A potato, cooked with heart, is a delicious food that everyone can taste; A story, it is the trace of others, but you will never forget it after tasting it. Just like the potato that my aunt sat among us that night, it smells like nothing; When it's sweet, it always makes people unable to eat. ...

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