Splendid peasant girl busy farming

Chapter 10855

Yang Ruoqing tasted two or three pieces of each dish. When these two or three pieces were put together, it was a very substantial portion.

Especially since most of these dishes are spicy, it appeals to Yang Ruoqing's appetite.

For example, in Yang Ruoqing's opinion, the radish in the radish-roasted beef really absorbs all the essence of the beef. If you bite into a thick piece of white radish, it will be so delicious that Yang Ruoqing will become a fairy...

For such a delicious dish, it is reasonable to say that three bowls of white rice should be tossed casually, but Yang Ruoqing did not.

The more delicious the dish, the less rice you can eat. You can't eat more than a hundred grams of white rice.

"I'm full, you go on and eat slowly," Yang Ruoqing stood up with her empty bowl and chopsticks and greeted everyone.

"Qing'er, why are you full so quickly? How many more bites do you want?"

"I'm full. You guys eat more, and I'll go to the kitchen to cook the rice soup crispy rice."

"Okay, rice soup crispy rice. I'll have a bowl later too."

"Okay, let's all come over later to have some rice soup and crispy rice..."

Rice soup and crispy rice is a hometown specialty in Mianniushan area that is as famous as meatballs and meatloaf.

The rice soup, which is as thick as milk, is soaked together with the finger-thick crispy crispy rice cooked in the large iron pot of the wood-fired stove. The mellow and long taste has nourished the folks for generations.

Whenever a wanderer outside recalls his hometown, he can’t help but think of the pot of rice soup and crispy rice his mother made.

I think of every gathering of relatives and friends, everyone holding a bowl in hand while eating and drinking.

If paired with home-pickled bacon, minced snow and mustard greens, it would be a real treat!

In the kitchen, Yang Ruoqing was concentrating on cooking rice soup. After a while, Daan came over.

"What? Are you full too?"

"Sister, I'm thinking about the rice soup crispy rice and want to scoop a bowl."

"okay!"

Yang Ruoqing knew that Da'an never had a big appetite, so she didn't force him to eat another bowl of rice, but instead gave him half a bowl of rice soup to soak in crispy rice.

Da'an did not go back to the dining hall, but sat on the rolling stone at the mouth of the stove with a bowl in his hand.

Yang Ruoqing's eyes felt warm when she saw the dignified No. 1 scholar looking so down-to-earth when he returned home.

No matter how far my brother goes or how high he climbs, he will never forget his roots and his original intention.

"Is it delicious, Da'an?" Yang Ruoqing felt that her question was a bit redundant, because looking at Da'an's appearance, it could be seen that this bowl of rice soup crispy rice should be very suitable for him.

Daan raised his head, his eyes a little blurry.

"Of course it's delicious, I'm intoxicated."

Yang Ruoqing smiled.

Just at this moment, Feng'er also came in, "Auntie, I also want to eat rice soup crispy rice!"

"Okay! Auntie will scoop it out for you."

Xiaohua followed the kitchen and smiled when she saw Daan and Feng'er, father and son, each holding a bowl of rice soup rice crispy rice.

"Father and son, they were thinking about this when they were in the capital."

"I said we have a firewood stove in the house, and we also have rice. But the rice soup crispy rice I cooked, they said they didn't like it no matter how they ate it."

"Even after our parents passed away, although they also ate the rice soup crispy rice cooked by my mother, they still said that the heat was a little bit off, not the way they remembered it." "But when I came back last night, and today, in this family The rice soup rice crispy rice tastes so good when you pick it up!”

At the end of the sentence, Xiaohua covered her mouth and laughed.

Yang Ruoqing also laughed, but unlike Xiaohua, Xiaohua still might not understand the real meaning behind the father and son's denial of rice soup crispy rice, but Yang Ruoqing did.

Even though there are stoves, rice, and even better rice in the capital, the cooked rice soup crispy rice is not the same as the taste in memory.

The real taste in my memory must be the stove made of soil from my hometown, the firewood growing on the mountain behind the village, the rice growing in the fields in front of and behind the village, and boiled with the water that nourishes the villagers...

The rice soup rice crispy rice cooked in this way is authentic and tastes just as you remember it.

It’s not just the taste of rice soup crispy rice, but also the taste of hometown.

This is not only a pleasure for the taste buds, but also a kind of comfort in the spiritual world, soothing every wanderer who wanders outside. A bowl of hot and fragrant rice soup rice crispy rice can nourish a tired heart.

Suddenly, Da'an said to Feng'er: "You told me a few days ago that you had a lot of thoughts on your way home recently."

"How's it going? Do you have the confidence to write an impromptu poem?"

Feng'er, who was immersed in drinking rice soup, raised his head when he heard his father's question.

The young boy blinked his bright eyes, thought carefully, and nodded: "Okay, I'll think about it for a while."

Xiaohua opened her eyes wide: "Ah? Do you really want to compose a poem on the spot?"

Feng'er ignored Xiaohua, because he had narrowed his eyes and there must be emotions brewing in his heart.

Yang Ruoqing's eyes were shining, she held her breath and looked at Feng'er expectantly.

Xiaoduo happened to come to the kitchen, and when she heard that Feng'er was going to compose an impromptu poem on the spot, she turned around and ran back to the dining hall excitedly, "Da'an is going to inspect Feng'er, and Feng'er is going to compose an impromptu poem!"

At this time, everyone got up and came to the circular glass arch. Yang Huazhong and Blacksmith Luo even entered the kitchen.

Everyone looked at them with smiles. Yang Huazhong seemed to want to encourage Feng'er. Yang Ruoqing turned around and made a 'shh' gesture to the group of onlookers behind her.

The people here, except for Da'an and Feng'er who are scholars, the others, not even Yang Ruoqing, can be regarded as real scholars.

As for the others besides Yang Ruoqing, Yang Huazhong has the highest level of education, but that is limited to being able to write his own name and knowing a few hundred characters.

The remaining people are all illiterate!

But now, this large group of illiterate people all came to the kitchen to watch Feng'er compose poetry...

Well, writing poetry requires a quiet environment, but it’s not like watching people playing monkey tricks in Wasikou!

Fortunately, they all had sharp eyesight. When they saw Yang Ruoqing gesturing towards them, they all immediately held their breath and remained silent. They tried their best not to move while standing in place and not to make any noise to disturb Feng'er.

As for Mrs. Sun and Xiaohua, the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law looked expectantly and nervously at the little boy in the middle of the venue holding rice soup and steamed rice cakes.

Feng'er pondered for a moment, then raised his head and opened his eyes. His eyes were slightly blurred. He was looking in a certain direction in the kitchen, but also seemed to be looking into the distance through the wall...

The very pleasant young man's voice, with a slight ups and downs of emotions, read out the chapter in his heart: "Even if a month in a foreign country is not as good as a lamp in my hometown. Even if a thousand glasses of wine in a foreign country are not worth a bowl of porridge in my hometown."

After finishing a poem, there was silence in the kitchen.

Except for Daan, everyone else looked at each other with big eyes and small eyes.

Mrs. Sun seemed to be praising, which was a habitual compliment. However, when she saw everyone acting like this, she also suppressed those words of praise in her throat.

Because she didn’t know whether the poem written by her eldest grandson was good or not?

(End of this chapter)