我喜欢吃米粉,儿子也喜欢,每天早上都吃。有时他妈妈为了把冰箱里昨天留下的剩菜剩饭处理干净,不让他上街吃米粉,他便翘起嘴巴不高兴,那副可怜巴巴的委屈相,我一看就忍不住笑。小时候我比儿子怪,有一回我生了病,厌食拒饮,父亲便花一个铜板端一碗素粉给我吃。米粉一到,满屋喷香,我顿时精神振奋。胡椒香,开胃;葱花香,提神;汁甜,生津;汤热,发汗。一碗入肚,烧退鼻通,小小的感冒,不治而愈。此后我便找到一个秘而不宣的 I like to eat rice noodles, my son loves to eat every morning. Sometimes, in order to clean up the leftover leftovers in the refrigerator yesterday and prevent him from eating rice noodles in the streets, he raised his mouth unhappy. His pathetic grievances made me smile. When I was a child, I was stranger than my son. Once I was sick, anorexia refuses to drink, and my father spends a bowl of powdered silver on her side to give me food. Once the rice noodles, fragrant full house, I suddenly excited. Pepper fragrant, appetizing; green onion, refreshing; juice sweet, fluid; soup hot, sweating. A bowl into the belly, burn back nasal pass, a small cold, dead and more. After that I found a secret