When I was in school, I complained that the food in the school cafeteria was too unpalatable, the taste was too simple, and I didn't have the desire to swallow it, but I just relied on the appetite generated by my growing body to forage for food. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

But now when I recall that fragrance, I feel inexplicably warm in my heart, and no matter where I am, I think about that smell, and my lips and teeth are fragrant and warm my soul.

There is a window on the second floor of our school cafeteria, which sells oily noodles.

The hand-kneaded dough becomes elastic over time, straightened by the machine and thrown into the broth made from chicken wishbones and beef leg bones. After more than ten seconds, the strips floated to the surface of the water, and quickly fished them into a plastic bowl with sauce, sprinkled with chopped green onions, ginger foam, garlic, crushed peanuts, and chili noodles. Pour hot oil, prick and pull the aroma, squeeze two drops of white vinegar, stir evenly with sweet, sour, bitter, spicy and salty. (I actually drooled about myself.) ）

The oily noodles at school are a must, and my brother Chao and I ate oily noodles in the cafeteria, and the delicious ones didn't care about talking at all.

It's not a joke, it's really delicious.

"Brother Chao, how was your last Saturday?" After pulling the oil and splashing the noodles, I wiped my lips full of oil and asked Brother Chao.

"It's good, I know her birthday." Brother Chao said.

"No, I mean when you're going to pay it back." I paused.

Brother Chao's movements stopped, "I invited this plate of oily noodles." ”

Nima's oily noodles are only five yuan, big brother!

However, Brother Chao's progress is quite fast, and it is amazing that he can ask about the birthday of the little glasses.

"She's on October 16, and you can accompany me to buy gifts in a few days." Brother Chao said while eating noodles.

"Brother, I don't have any money." I grabbed my wallet and took a few steps back.

Brother Chao rolled his eyes.

There weren't many people in the cafeteria anymore, and the long queue that used to line up at the window for food was now gone.

It was dark outside, and the breeze was snorting and feeling a little shabby.

I waited boredly for Brother Chao to finish his meal and began to look around.

My eyes drifted to the window where the oily noodles were sold, and the uncle who made the oily noodles was tidying up the table.

Maybe he saw my eyes, and he turned to look at me.

The uncle smiled at me very kindly, I was a little surprised, but also smiled at the uncle.

The uncle picked up the dough and threw out countless noodles in three or two clicks.

This is the first time I have seen the noodles pulled by hand, and my uncle put the noodles into the steaming broth, took out the noodles sprinkled with green onions, ginger and garlic, poured peanut oil, and brought them to us.

This was a surprise to me and Brother Chao, so I quickly stood up.

"There's still some left, eat more." The uncle spoke a thick Qingdao dialect and put the oily noodles to us.

"Ah, thank you." I was pleasantly surprised.

"It's fine." Uncle sat next to us, "Every day I use a machine to cook quickly, my hands are raw, how about I taste it?" ”

That's when I realized that my uncle was a hand-drawn noodle.

I took a bite and it felt different than before.

I can't tell you what the difference is, but if you put it in words, I think it should be an extra flavor called tradition.

Nowadays, most of the food is machine-processed, which is convenient and fast, but it has lost its original taste.

Frozen dumplings are delicious, but it's not as delicious as New Year's dumplings. Instant zongzi are also delicious, but not as sweet as Dragon Boat Festival brown dates.

It is sad that modern people have forgotten most of what originally existed.

Uncle looked at me and Brother Chao and turned back with a smile, and I saw that his apron had thick oil stains.

An old cook, an old craft, and a warm-hearted heart.

This bowl of noodles was confiscated from the money he made for us, maybe the leftover dough was afraid of wasting, or maybe it was because we felt happy to see us gobble it up, and the bowl full of oily noodles was very fragrant.