Pushing open the door, L's mother is sleeping under the covers. I remember this morning, she kept calling "uncomfortable", and I guess she's not feeling well now. Seeing this, I can't help feeling sad. "I won't be tired this time." I want to leave the room, roll up my sleeves and make up my mind: "I want to cook a meal to honor my mother!" " "
Walking into the kitchen with firm steps, it didn't take long for this firmness to become indecisive. "What should I cook?" It seems impossible to start. Open the refrigerator, there is a bowl of meat and a few pieces of dried tofu, which will be planned soon. It takes a lot of time to cut the thawed meat into small pieces first. I was afraid that the meat was too thick to be cooked, so I chopped it repeatedly, although the technology was not so good. But I still finished this. Next, cut the dried tofu, which is simple. Tofu blocks are square, and when the knife expires, it will be cut into strips. Learn from my mother's usual appearance, prepare a few slices of ginger and a few attractive red peppers, and the ingredients are ready.
The first is to pour oil. Because I often see the painful expression of someone being splashed with oil, I can't help but hesitate, but if I don't start work, the flame will soon burn to the bottom of the pot, so I pour oil into the pot as soon as my heart is horizontal. "Wow", no oil spilled on your body, good, lucky. After the oil was stirred in the pot for a while, the lean meat was put into the pot, which caused quite a stir. I stirred it hard for a few times before the pan calmed down. Seeing the color of the meat gradually changed, I remembered that there was still no seasoning added. Pour ginger and pepper in a hurry, and a pungent smell pervades the kitchen. The revolution has not yet succeeded, so I will continue to work hard. Finally, I threw the remaining dried tofu into the pot. The food was tossed in the pot for a long time, and I was afraid that when the dried tofu began to stick to the pot, I hurriedly fished it out. Then, luckily, my mother wanted to use my labor.
Because after all, I don't have much experience, so the finished product can't reach the standard of "delicious". It's okay to swallow it with the rice, but my mother always praises it. I can see that her face is full of joy and relief. I know, no matter how it tastes, she will do it.
Parents are used to giving, and once they get something from their children, they will be flattered and grateful, but what we really should be grateful for is us as children. Parents have paid too much hard and pain for us. We really, really should be grateful to our parents. There is no need for rhetoric, a cup of warm tea, a concerned look, and what is important is to warm a grateful heart with love. That's enough.