Search memory, do you remember the taste of your favorite dish as a child? What is this?

The noodles and meatballs fried by parents are super fragrant.

Toona sinensis bud, as the video says.

Hello, I'm David. I'm glad to answer this question. Do you remember the taste of your favorite dish when you were a child? What is this? Let me talk about my favorite dish when I was a child.

Speaking of my favorite dish when I was a child, of course, it was steamed eggplant by my mother! When I was a child, my family was poor and had nothing to eat. My mother always steamed eggplant for us. Steamed eggplant is also very simple. Is to cut eggplant into small strips. Then put it in a pot for steaming. After the eggplant is steamed, add garlic, soy sauce and vinegar. You can eat.

Steamed eggplant made in this way. It's delicious. Never tire of eating. You can also try doing it at home. I hope my answer can help you.

Hello, everyone, I'm Xiao Yi Ma, and I'm glad to answer this question. Do you remember the taste of your favorite dish when you were a child? What is this? Let me talk about my favorite dish when I was a child.

Speaking of childhood favorite dishes, of course, my mother steamed them. When I was a child, my family was poor and had nothing to eat. Every spring is the season of saving money, and the practice of saving money is very simple. It is to mix elm with flour and then steam it in a pot. After steaming the nest, add garlic paste and diced green pepper, add some soy sauce, vinegar, sesame oil and salt, make juice, and then put it into the nest to eat.

Yuqian Wo Wo is the perfect combination of pepper and garlic juice. You can try it if you like.

My favorite food when I was a child was hairtail fried by my mother. I am a person who never eats fish, but I just eat hairtail fried by my mother.

When I was a child, the Chinese New Year was coming. My mother always cooks a pot of hairtail and saves it for the New Year. She always put it on the kang where I piled food in the east room. I often sneak in and grab two pieces to satisfy my hunger. That one is crisp, and that one is tender outside. It's really delicious. By the end of the year, basically full, it is inevitable to be scolded, but it will come as scheduled every year until the old house is demolished.

Dry fried hairtail:

1. Wash hairtail, cut into sections, cut with a flower knife, and marinate with cooking wine, salt, chopped green onion and Jiang Mo for half an hour.

2. Take an egg and stir it for later use. Put the right amount of starch on the plate. Shake off the minced onion and ginger from the hairtail section, put it in a starch dish and cover it with starch.

3. Relax the oil in the pot, the oil temperature is 50% (many small bubbles will appear as soon as the chopsticks are put in), dip the hairtail section in starch and fry until it is slightly yellow.

4. Fry at 70% oil temperature for about 30 seconds, then remove and plate.

5. Sprinkle some salt and pepper and cumin powder when eating.

Now that life is good, you can eat this fried hairtail without waiting for the Chinese New Year, but you can't eat the original flavor. Maybe it can only exist in my memory.

I'm Rogge. When I think of my favorite dishes as a child, I think of salty bamboo shoots cooked by my grandmother and a sad story.

Don't ask me why there are no pictures of dried bamboo shoots, because I haven't eaten dried bamboo shoots made by her since then.

At this time, there is something creaking on the yellow land on the mountain. The spring breeze dives from the top of the mountain to the valley, and my thoughts are like mushrooms after the rain.

It's another season to eat bamboo shoots. It has been about thirteen years since I realized her aging, and I have never eaten salted bamboo shoots again.

Salted dried bamboo shoots is an inverted sentence in ancient Chinese. She is the only person who has made salted dried bamboo shoots for me.

Now I can only remember some fragments about the practice of salted bamboo shoots. Whenever bamboo shoots pile up into mountains, she will carry a kitchen knife and carefully select those thick, round and tender tips from the shelled bamboo shoots. Then simmer with pickled pickle juice. The pickle juice in the pickle barrel is not elegant, but it concentrates the essence of potherb mustard, which is sour in salt and fresh in acid. Wait until it is soaked and cooked thoroughly, then spread it on a purple smooth bamboo woven rice screen and dry it in the spring sun.

Repeatedly, I can't remember how many days it takes to make a dried bamboo shoot. I only remember that in the end, the palm-sized bamboo shoots were full of pickled vegetable juice, dehydrated in the sun, and finally concentrated to the size of a thumb, and the surface was covered with precipitated salt. She picked them up one by one from the rice screen and put them in a jar to seal them.

Since then, the sealed jar is like dried plums, which makes people look forward to it. But only when it is too early to eat rice in soup can we eat together. Small salted dried bamboo shoots are so salty that they can only be pecked off with front teeth, and then wait for dozens of times of concentrated taste molecules to be diluted in the mouth. The first thing that reaches the tip of the tongue is sour taste. Then, the salty taste awakened the tongue surface, and the salty taste of potherb mustard seeds and spring bamboo shoots was unsealed, and they began to dance happily on the tongue, exhaling turbulent saliva from both sides of the chin and wrapping rice through their throats.

Seriously, it's hard to say how healthy the food cooked with pickles is. However, she accompanied me for a whole childhood until 19 left home to go to college. In autumn, she wrapped a bag of bamboo shoots in a plastic bag and accompanied me through the season without bamboo shoots. Later, when I first ate Japanese white rice with dried plums, the memory on the tip of my tongue would suddenly jump, thinking that I had encountered salted dried bamboo shoots again. Only then did I know why dried plums could become a classic homesick food in Japanese hearts.

All this makes me like Pavlov's hound, spit in my mouth at this time of year, waiting for the concentrated taste to impact my taste buds and mind. I didn't know until one day that I hadn't eaten real salted bamboo shoots for many years.

She was old, and I inadvertently thought that she could eat bamboo shoots as usual until they were salted and dried.

From then on, she began to become a little lazy. I squatted down beside her and told her how to call me with her mobile phone, but she kept shaking her head with her eyes narrowed and said that she would never learn these things again. Then, she began to forget the location of her belongings again and again. She couldn't find the clothes she had put away and couldn't figure out the items she had collected. She opened the snacks she had eaten once and forgot where she put them, so she asked her children to buy them.

When she sees me every holiday, she will ask me if my ears itch when she talks about me. In five minutes, she will ask this question again. Then I asked the same question ten minutes later. She taught me aoe and iuü. When I was very young, she read those sentences and helped me finish a diary. Until one day, I suddenly realized that she couldn't speak Mandarin clearly, and a certain part of her brain was drying up at an alarming rate.

Everything seems to fly down, and all efforts to salvage the splash are in vain.

We have been living in the wrong rhythm. When they are healthy, we feel at ease and neglect to visit and communicate. They are old, and we can't wait to care about their daily life all the time, but we can't explain every sentence and every detail clearly as they held your hand in the afternoon sunshine many years ago.

No wonder Colonel Aureliano went home after the war, just making small goldfish repeatedly. Marquez said that the secret of a happy old age is nothing more than reaching a decent agreement with loneliness.

She is getting old. There is one thing she hasn't forgotten.

She still habitually looked at the words I printed on the paper, just like reading the exercise book that the child gave to the teacher. I don't know whether it is mourning or the habit of decades ago has become instinct. She collected them page by page and piled them in a corner of the room, which she will never forget. Every time I see her, she will ask me if my ears itch. She said that again. I haven't seen my handwriting for several days, which makes me dare not slack off.

She will still read my story carefully, just like that summer vacation, when I sat by the window and she sat on the sofa and taught me to keep a diary sentence by sentence. If I could have watched this scene from a farther place, I could have seen those tender words, like mushrooms after rain, suddenly growing, joining, spreading and then flourishing at the place where the pen tips crossed.

However, after writing these diaries, there are no more bamboo shoots that can be soaked in rice, and she is no longer able to help those bamboo shoots that pile up into mountains. I finally learned to write this thing and kept writing it to you, but I didn't learn to cook a can of salted bamboo shoots for myself after all.

One winter afternoon, the company held an important meeting and turned off the mobile phone. My ears suddenly itched, and I suddenly remembered what she said. A few hours later, the phone was connected, and the first message was from my sister: grandma left.

I know, at that time, my ears itched. You must have taken one last look at me.

Since then, no one has ever bothered to cook a can of bamboo shoots to dry for me.

Looking for memories, recalling the taste of our childhood.

As a post-80s generation, the taste of childhood has drifted away from us. I don't know how to remember.

I think, as the majority of the post-80s generation, in fact, the family conditions at that time were relatively average. At that time, what we really expected was the Chinese New Year, because a large table of meat and vegetables could fill our stomachs. That feeling, I can't find it anymore.

I grew up in the countryside with average family conditions. You know how rare it is to eat a meat dish at ordinary times. You know what it's like to see grandma and grandpa bring back a catty of meat from the supply and marketing cooperative, huh, huh? I don't know why, the pork was really delicious at that time, and the smell of fried pork at home was full of fragrance in the yard. At that time, I didn't specialize in cooking all kinds of meat dishes as I do now, just put some in the fried noodles. Because I am the youngest in the family and my grandparents are spoiled, fried pork always secretly gives me half a bowl first. Can you imagine what it's like not to eat meat for a month or two and then suddenly give you half a bowl of meat? I think most rural people may have this experience, and it feels like squatting under the pit in the street with a bowl. . . . .

Half a bowl of fried shredded pork is really not delicious now, but the countryside in the 1990s is really a memory of our generation. This is the taste of my childhood, and it is also the taste in my memory. I don't know what yours is.

Hello, my name is Zhiyi, and I'm glad to answer your question. Do you remember the taste of your favorite dish when you were a child? I remember when I was twelve, I went to my grandfather's house. When my grandparents were young, they all knew that I could eat fat. I just went to my grandmother's house in December. My grandmother said what to cook for you today. I said I want to eat fat, and my grandmother said I would let you eat well today. Although I was poor at that time, I never lacked meat and never sold it. I keep it for myself or entertain others. Remember what my grandmother made. I ate a little too much that day and drank cold water, which made me uncomfortable for two days. I don't like red meat. It doesn't taste fragrant, and it doesn't taste like fat. This is what I remember best. I wonder if the answer will help you. Thank you.

Talking about childhood dishes is actually talking about an unforgettable childhood memory. The memory of this dish, which I remembered the other day, is the beef brisket with sauerkraut made by grandma. At that time, in order to go to primary school, I went to my grandmother's house far away from my parents in the first grade. Grandma takes care of four children by herself and cooks. At that time, the conditions were not good, and grandma always tried her best to cook dishes for us, among which beef brisket with sauerkraut was the most common dish at that time. Simply put, it is a dish, a pot of soup. Pickled sauerkraut is called Shuilu cuisine here, which is made by drying pickled mustard tuber, blanching and then pickling and fermenting in a jar. Beef brisket is not a real beef brisket, but a scrap cut from the surface of beef. These scraps are the cheapest, because it is impossible to eat a little gluten and meat, so my grandmother cooks them with sauerkraut. Cut sauerkraut and beef brisket, add water, add some sugar and salt, and stew for an hour. Beef brisket is stewed with sauerkraut and soon becomes soft and rotten. It tastes sour and sweet, very suitable for the elderly and children to eat, as well as soup to drink. This taste hasn't gone bad for 30 years. I can't forget it. As I grew up and left my grandmother's house, my life became better. Although the food is easy to cook, I didn't cook it myself. It seems that it must go to my grandmother.

I am a girl in the eighties. When I was a child, I lived in the countryside, and there was a large bamboo forest in front of my house. Every autumn harvest, there are always thousands of sparrows in the bamboo forest, waiting for an opportunity to eat the millet hanging on the threshing floor. In our eyes, sparrows are harmful birds, robbing the harvest fruits of mankind. Chairman Mao also said that sparrows are one of the four pests, not without reason! The fried sparrow in my memory is my favorite dish. After the slaughter, the sparrows went from head to tail, leaving only meat as big as toes. A dozen sparrows were fried into a dish with ginger and wine. Haha, it makes my mouth water when I think about it.

Don't spray! Say sparrows are so cute, how can they eat [cover their faces]. That was in the 1980s, and now it's just a memory.