800-word table story, there is no food, will always remind you of a certain memory. University that year in Wuping rental suite to cook small hot pot, hot pot smell adsorbed in the sheets, clothes and hair, no one escaped. Like the love of the time.
Until now, I've occasionally walked into a hot pot shop. It's a hundred-dollar kind; it's not very refined, and every ingredient is bad. Chicken soup, crushed sand tea, a little snorting gas; you know it's not delicious, but it keeps you from starving for a while. Like 20-year-old love.
At that time he used to drag my hand and wander through the hypermarket.
We pick special daily necessities, tomorrow will expire the deli, a bit of defective fruit; each time pick a big bag, I held in the back seat of his locomotive, to the rental house, the hands are already red and swollen bruises. Then, we'll line up the food, nestle in the five-flat suite, turn off the headlights, and watch black-and-white movies. Watching and falling asleep, or we'll start kissing, cheap food scattered all over the place, food is not tasteful, and there is no need for any taste.
Later, it seems to be a particularly cold New Year's Eve, he said it is not as luxurious as tonight, to buy that, looked at the long 329 yuan card furnace, no factory card. He said what color you like, you pick one. Then there is, the comprehensive packaging of hot pot materials, the lowest grade of beef chips, not very good-looking yamaschi artemisinin, a hand of Taiwan beer, two rows of winter powder.
We went back to the room, and I saw him put the gas can into the casserole, press the switch, turn the gas away, and pour the ingredients into the pot. We sat side by side, looking at the TV screen, with a layer of smoke in the middle of the screen; The smell was covered in our clothes, our hair, the sheets, the pillowcases. . . he would put me in his arms, or just ambush me, and everything was mixed in unorder.
Every time is so, do not know how long, there may be two or three days time, a long time will not be dispersed.
The water rolled, the soup head kept bubbling, bubbling and dispersing, and the ripples rang. I looked at the gas canister, embedded in the casseligold stove; I didn't know why, that night, I was wondering if it would explode.
After buying the card stove, he often said he wanted to cook the pot. East and west, do not understand whether to like the pot of the abundance of abundance, or indulge in that burst of smoke filled; You didn't know until very late, because of those smells, in reminding you, there was a lot of fear in that long youth dragon team.
And until people are scattered, the season will be repeatedly turned to winter, you have already eaten countless more refined high-end hot pot. But you'll occasionally have to walk into those cheap hot pot shops. You know there, gas canisters are still embedded in a casseium, cooked, or carefully pre-empted;
"Contribute your table story"
In your heart, there are unforgettable taste memory, and you want to write down the story, let the taste stay? The following draft information:
- The 800-word table story is raised with content including the food you want to say and its relationship to people.
- We will select the lucky people every week, in addition to the admission of manuscripts, online articles, but also by the female fan designer for your exclusive drawing belongs to your dish!
- Please contribute to the email@example.com,write in the title of the letter, "Contribute to eat and love, I am . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (If this title is not not stated, we will not be able to see you in the vast sea of letters, contributors will not receive a reply)
- Attach your manuscript with a clip file, and be sure to include the name you wish to publish in the first paragraph of the document, using microsoft word or google document. (Welcome to attach multiple articles at the same time)