My mother cooked the meal.

I don't like my mother's cooking for as long as I can remember. In terms of taste experience, her cooking style can be summed up in one sentence: lack of oil and salt, clear soup, and little water. Because my mother is extremely stingy in the consumption of seasonings, for a long time I thought that oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar were all luxuries and expensive unless large families had festivals. Ordinary people can't put too much when they cook at home.

 the myth about the price of condiments was broken after I went to the department store once. I asked my mother countless times why she couldn't put more salt in the cooking. My mother said that she ate too much salt and had high blood pressure. I asked my mother why she could not put more oil in the cooking. My mother said that less oil and less salt were nutritious and healthy. Now that I think about it, my mother's way of cooking is very consistent with the characteristics of Japanese cuisine-highlighting the flavor of the ingredients as much as possible. However, it is a pity that my mother's meals are as light as Japanese food and are not as particular about ingredients as Japanese food. So my mother fried green vegetables is smelled of raw grass, stir-fried meat vegetables is the smell of meat from hemoglobin. When the leftovers were eaten for the second meal, the vegetables and meat were mixed, and the pot was hot, with a subtle smell of meat mixed with the smell of grass.

so the purpose of eating when I was a child was to eat until I was starved to death, to put down chopsticks when I was almost done, and not to eat one more bite. It's not easy to live, and it's torture to eat one more bite.

when I was in the first grade of primary school, there were mutton kebabs at the door of my neighborhood for 20 cents each. At that time, I remember my pocket money was divided every Friday (alas). (then I can save my pocket money for a month and buy one from selling mutton kebabs. Yes, a bunch of (alas... ). Just a string. Then a few months later, when I went to buy mutton kebabs with the 20 cents I had worked so hard to save, the stall owner proudly told me that the price had gone up, and now I sold it for 25 cents. I begged the stall owner to sell me a bunch for 20 cents, but I was refused. At that time, I thought that life was hopeless.

some parents in the community sometimes don't bother to care about their children's dinner, so they give them money to buy their food after school. I often see children eating while walking with a handful of mutton kebabs in their hands at dinner time. I think they are the happiest people in the world. The hand is full of mutton kebabs, can you imagine, full of one, eating one after another, string after string. I can't even think about it.

in summer, very occasionally, my father sometimes gives me 60 cents at noon on a hot day to buy a snowman to eat on my way to school. Of course, I won't use this huge sum of money to buy a snowman to eat. I know that at the gate of the school, an old man stood there pushing a bike. At the back of the bike stood two large boxes covered with quilts, full of popsicles. Small bean popsicles cost 10 cents each, and large bean popsicles cost 20 cents each. If you use this 60 cents to buy small bean popsicles, you can buy six. If you buy one a day, it's enough to eat for a week. What do you think? how cost-effective.

when I grew up, I studied economics and utility theory and realized that my childhood behavior was an instinctive maximization of satisfaction. I can't help but admire my wit, being self-taught and able to apply the principles of economics at such a young age, no matter how bitter it is. So I still like to eat red beans and red bean products. Speaking of which, they were all when they were young.

and Lu Xue refreshed my worldview when they entered China. I can't believe the popsicle can be so gorgeous! When it first went on the market, the small milk sold for one piece, and it was lovely for more than two and a half yuan. Later, the price of cuteness quickly rose to three yuan. At that time, if a child could afford to eat more cute, in my eyes, it was the nouveau riche, that is, the existence of that. As for the dream dragon, it is a kind of existence like a dinosaur. What dream dragons and dinosaurs have in common is that they both know what they look like, but they can't see or touch them. They will never appear in reality, they will always exist in an illusion. At that time, ten yuan was already the upper limit of my imagination about the amount of money. In my mind, ten yuan is enough to buy the whole world. As for the dream dragon of seven yuan each? I, uh.

but I'm not particularly unhappy. At that time, I could already afford to eat the Yili torch for 50 cents each, and I felt that the living standards of the people were steadily improving.

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there is a row of tin sheds outside my neighborhood, in which there is a rental bookstore (you can rent comics for ten cents a day) and a toy store (the walls of the cabinets are full of toys, paradise, and wonderland on earth). But that's not what I'm going to say today. I would like to mention that when I was in the second grade of primary school, a new restaurant was opened in that row of tin sheds, which mainly specializes in Sichuan food and dumplings. Then one day, my parents took me to a restaurant for the first time in my life.

I have never eaten anything so delicious in my life! I almost ate all the plates. My family of three ordered a dish of Yu-Shiang Shredded Pork and several dumplings. After eating all the practical information in Yu-Shiang Shredded Pork, I picked up and ate all the garlic dregs inside. After eating garlic dregs, there was still some vegetable soup left on the plate. I dipped it in dumplings. My parents are watching in a daze.

I still like eating Yu-Shiang Shredded Pork. Speaking of which, they were all when they were young.

remember when I said that when I was a child, my parents forced me to drink traditional Chinese medicine to recuperate my spleen and stomach? At that time, my parents took me to the home of traditional Chinese medicine in Dongzhimen every two weeks. The kind old doctor of traditional Chinese medicine took my pulse, looked at my tongue, pinched my chin, and then wrote prescriptions and medicines, wasting time and money. Once after seeing the old doctor of traditional Chinese medicine, my father said let's have dinner nearby today, and then we went to Dongxing Lou, a Beijing time-honored brand located in Dongsitiao. I ate roast duck there for the first time in my life.

I ate almost half the roast duck by myself. My father stopped me when there were three pieces of roast duck skin left. My father was scared. He had never seen me eat so much at once for fear that I would eat something bad. I didn't dare to say it. I said to myself, Dad, look at my spleen and stomach. I don't need to drink traditional Chinese medicine.

after that, the three pieces of roast duck skin that my father didn't let me eat appeared in my dream countless times. What an outrage it is!

one spring, my relatives sent me a sack of wild vegetables. In the following month, my family's recipes were very simple. Stir-fried wild vegetables, wild vegetables scrambled eggs, wild vegetables egg soup. At the end of eating, my shit is all green. I said, Mom, I can't do it.

for many years, I always thought it was the way I was when I was a kid. Later, I met a friend, from a military family, whose father was a senior colonel in the people's Liberation Army. Once she showed us the only dish of lunch in her family: her father cooked it himself, soaked in radish skin with pepper.

when I saw several black peppers floating alone on the water without any oil stars, I knew instantly that I was not alone in this world. Then I saw the question on Zhihu, "what is the experience of parents' bad cooking", and I was full of disdain for every answer to this question. You guys are all chickens. You have no idea what I've been through.

I have never told these stories to my parents for fear that they will be sad. I'm telling you these things jokingly now, but my parents will be sad when they listen to it. After I went to middle school, my food began to improve, and my father began to specialize in cooking. I guess even he couldn't stand my mother's cooking. Later, my father racked his brains to cook for me, and now I have learned a lot of specialty dishes from my father. I won't say these things, and my parents also know that they have felt guilty about me over the years. So I never mention these things at home.

I have a theory: regardless of boys and daughters, children should not be raised in poverty when they are young. What I lacked when I was a child, I will find it back when I grow up. For example, I am now a big foodie. I call this a "retaliatory rebound". So are toys. The older the man, the more expensive the toy. When I was a child, I was short of toys. When I grew up, I liked music and spent a lot of money on buying musical instruments. My best friend Wang Tiantian, who is a truly rich and second generation, was created by the saying that boys were poor when he was a child. When he was in high school, he used to save his lunch money to buy genuine records, resulting in a frequent stomachache. When we formed a band together, he sometimes missed the rehearsal because of stomach problems. Today, there is a whole wall of CDs in the living room of his home in Beijing.

when I was in the third grade, my father had a friend who was a pilot and gave me a remote control racing car. At that time, the quality of toys did not pass, and after a few days, the steering function failed, and we could only move forward and backward. But I still had a good time. Then even the advance and retreat failed, and the remote control car became a model.

the summer after graduating from high school, I once had a chat with my father for a walk after dinner, and somehow I mentioned it. I sighed that boys didn't like cars when they were young. Well, I didn't play with any kind of remote control car when I was a kid. My dad didn't say anything after listening to it, and it just passed. As a result, when my dad came home a few days later, he brought me a super high-end remote-controlled racing car.

this sounds ridiculous. I was eighteen years old at that time, and by that time I was no longer interested in remote control racing. At that time, I was concerned about the college life I was about to start, and how to be cool and handsome to attract more girls' attention. The older the man, the more expensive the toy. Although I didn't have much interest in real cars at that time, I was pretty sure I was no longer interested in remote control racing. The speaker didn't mean to listen. What I said to my father didn't mean anything, but he paid attention. He felt guilty and wanted to make amends.

like my father, I pick up flowers in the morning and evening, and we all live the same life. And I never asked him what he wanted.

in this way, absurdly, when I was eighteen, the summer after graduating from high school, I got a very advanced remote-controlled racing car that I had always dreamed of when I was a child. I was steering the remote-controlled car on the floor of my living room, turning forward and backward, and my nose was sore.