There is a kind of food called home-cooked food, vegetables spill over a kind of affection called maternal love.
Since childhood, the love given by mothers to their children seems to have been eating. No wonder: the predicament of childhood fostered a mother's strong desire for food and clothing. As far as I remember, my mother's work always seems to have something to do with eating. Her figure shuttles between the kitchen at home and the vegetable shop not far away.
Half the old soybeans and a ladle of water are simmered in the stove, plus salt and half a piece of dried pork, which is a kind of home-cooked dish that my mother raised our brother. In my mind when I was young, my mother's cooking was simple and light, but it tasted so good.
Cabbage is inseparable from our family life. When I was a child, cabbage was the leading dish, with monotonous colors. In my mother's hands, I could always make patterns, such as taro-skin cabbage, tofu cabbage, cabbage dumplings, stewed cabbage with shredded meat, so that whenever I eat cabbage, I always think of my mother. For me, I always feel that cabbage is my mother's dish.
There is another dish, which is also very rare. So far, it has rarely been cooked at home, called sauerkraut potato balls. In the late 1970s, my mother and my working father lived separately and taught in the remote Mindong mountain village, with my young eldest brother and me. Because of the extreme shortage of supplies at that time, my mother often asked the farmer for some strangely shaped waste potatoes, peeled off and ground into mud in a stone pestle, then mixed with sweet potato powder and sauerkraut powder, rubbed into balls. Then pour into the pot, stir-fry with rapeseed oil, a burst of aroma will float all over the room. The sweet and sour taste fed us to the fullest. At that time, my eldest brother and I were helpers to our mother, but our mother forbade us to say that we were not afraid of being learned, but for fear of being looked down upon by others. However, when I enjoyed the delicious food with relish, I admired my mother's intelligence. No matter what is in the mountain or in the water, my mother tries her best to make delicious food. Judging from the current point of view, many dishes should be registered with their mother's name.
The dishes made by my mother's skillful hands always bring great surprises, and the daily meals make me blush. Day after day, my mother's dishes make me have a varied appetite.
Later, my mother was transferred back to the city to teach, and my eldest brother and I grew up one after another, and the family situation gradually improved. It was more than a decade ago, when I bumped into the dish of shredded watermelon one day shortly after I went to work. My father told me that in order to keep the environment clean and tidy, the dormitory of the unit did not allow the family members of the staff to raise chickens and ducks, while my mother was very distressed when she saw the watermelon skin thrown away, so she peeled off the skin, planed it into shreds with a planer, and brought it to the drying table to dry for cooking. Mother happily accepted the beginning of the conversation: usually tired of eating the mouth, I want to change to a fresh one, which is better than shredded radish. Green food is often talked about on TV.
Looking at my mother's expectant eyes, I nodded happily and said: yes, yes.
I wanted to persuade my mother to be well-off now and not to be so frugal, but she gagged me with words first. Although my mother was full of novel and interesting words, I knew exactly what she was actually thinking.
What my mother said to my father proved this. That was what I overheard: children are slowly becoming adults, it is time to spend money, we can save a penny while my mother is peeling watermelons. At that time, I could not restrain my emotion, and tears rolled in my eyes.
I know that persuasion is useless, and I deeply understand that the love for children in the mother's heart has turned into a simple housekeeping habit, which can not be changed in this life!
The old dishes are still good. They are all natural fertilizers. Whenever we two brothers go home for dinner, our mother's nagging will ring in our ears: carrots can see clearly, you have to look at the computer every day, you have to protect your eyes; you should eat more green vegetables and don't always have constipation; if you are afraid of being fat, eat more spinach, it doesn't matter how much you eat; and eat chives with tofu, and I'll cook it for you when you're done. Look at the dishes on that table. Every one of them is washed clean and the leaves are fresh and full.
And a heart, suddenly in the mother's nagging sound, became sour and soft. Yeah! It is always said that there are many things to do at work, it is too troublesome to go home, and it takes time and energy to take a car and walk. But her mother buys vegetables, washes vegetables, prepares materials and cooks. She is busy day by day, but she doesn't think about these troubles and distances. The great love given by my mother is speechless, tender and silent, eliminating troublesome words and eliminating the distance between time and space.
I love grandma's cooking! My six-year-old son shouted and called me back from the memory corridor.
When watching her grandson wolfing down delicious food, my mother would always coax: little boy, eat enough to grow up inadvertently, I saw a kind of speechless pleasure in the corner of her vicissitudes of eyes, a kind of sweetness of hard brewing.
Home-cooked dishes nourish the stomach, while mother's feelings nourish the heart. The maternal love on the tip of the tongue is the great love of the world, which is enough for me to chew for a lifetime!
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