父亲很会炖汤。汤水在锅里咕咚咕咚地飘香,随着锅里翻滚的浪,如同一朵艳丽的水葩隐现明灭。父亲的汤醇醇的,也暖暖的。母亲曾趁着父亲去盛汤的时候,悄悄地对我说,父亲炖的汤,一开始并不好喝的。可父亲知道母亲爱喝汤,就总是炖,反复地,一次次地练习。就在父亲的汤越炖越有滋味的 My father will stew. The soup water lingers in the pot, and as the waves in the pan roll, it is as if it is a beautiful water urn. Father’s soup alcohol is also warm. When my mother once told her father to go to soup, she quietly told me that the soup he had stewed was not delicious at first. But my father knew that his mother loved to eat soup. He always stewed, and repeatedly practiced it again and again. The more stewed my father’s soup, the more delicious