It has to be said that Zhang Xiuzhi is not only able to protect the house, but her knife is as sharp as before. With one chop, all the troubles are cut off.
"Alright, alright, let's eat!" Zeng Wangcai quickly tried to smooth things over. "I'm so hungry. Mom and Dad, you don't know how much I miss having a bite of home-cooked food outside. Can we eat? Everyone outside is eating."
"Eat, eat, eat, let's eat!"
When the food was served, Zeng Wangcai knew what was in it just by looking at it: "Spiced pork ribs... No, it's soy sauce pig's trotters, braised pork ribs and eggs, our specialty stir-fried fish fillet... Oh my, fried dumplings, I can tell at a glance that it's my dad's."
This is the taste of home, which cannot be replaced anywhere, no matter whether it is delicacies from land and sea, or fresh seafood, this is the taste that cannot be replaced.
The taste of every home is different. It has nothing to do with whether the dishes are delicious or not, but only with the person in the family who is busy in the kitchen for a long time.
Zeng Wangcai’s memory of home in his previous life is gone, replaced by his current home. He feels that in the future, the taste of home is slowly disappearing.
More and more young people leave their homes with great difficulty and go to cities thousands of miles away to work hard. Some of them can only go back once or twice a year, and some cannot even go back once a year. These young people only know the taste of home, but cannot carry on passing on this taste.
"It's delicious, so delicious. Your cooking skills have improved." Zeng Wangcai praised his mother while eating.
Little Feihong squatted quietly at Zeng Wangcai's feet, waiting to be fed...
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