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儿时,特馋,整天想着吃,春天的茅草芯、初夏的嫩蚕豆、冬日水田里的野荸荠,都是我们的腹中美食。尤其是小时候吃过的那些火中美味最过瘾,最馋人,最香甜可口。那时每天放学后烧晚饭是我的必修课。檐雨滴答的春天是有些寂寥的,耐住性子坐在灶门口,一把一把机械地往锅塘里填稻草,心里想的却是如何借到三歪子那本《格林童话选》。但一阵奇异的香味吸引了我,睁大眼朝红彤彤的锅塘里看,发现火星闪闪的灰烬里竟有点点洁白的花朵,像极了树上的乌桕籽,于是我看到了这世上最轻微的一种爆炸,“啪——”
Childhood, special greed, all day thinking of eating, the spring thatch core, early summer tender broad beans, wild paddy fields in winter paddy fields, are our belly cuisine. Especially those who eat a child when the delicious fire most delicious, the most appealing, the most sweet and delicious. After dinner every day after school is my compulsory course. Rain spring ticking is some lonely, patience sitting in the door of the stove, one by one to the pot filled with straw, but my heart is how to borrow three crooked child that “Green Fairy Tale.” But a strange fragrance caught me, gazing into the glowing pan-pond, and found a little white flowers in the glittering ashes of Mars, like the seeds of the jackals in the trees, so I saw the slightest An explosion, “snap - ”