在我二十岁出头的那几年,胃口好得出奇。每天深夜,我们都聚集在烤串摊前。我们扯淡,喝酒。夏夜,在隔壁摊上叫上一打啤酒半个西瓜。毛豆,花生,兔头,鸭爪。整夜在浓烟滚滚中度过。烤串其实并不好吃,但是当时我爱得要命,以及那人间烟火的味道。不吃串的日子里,我们自己做饭。冬天,我们自己腌酸菜。最冷的日子,酸菜白肉粉丝豆腐锅。做酸菜猪肉饺子,搁大量的油。油多肉满,酸浓可口。满屋子的朋友,欢声笑语,面粉飞舞。 In my early twenties, my appetite was surprisingly good. Every night, we all gathered in front of the skewers. We crap, drink. Summer night, called a beer on the next stall half a watermelon. Soybeans, peanuts, rabbit head, duck feet. Spend the night in billowing smoke. In fact, the skewers are not delicious, but then I was terrified, and the taste of the fireworks in the world. Do not eat string of days, we cook for ourselves. Winter, our own pickled cabbage. The coldest day, pickled white meat fans tofu pot. Be pickled pork dumplings, put a lot of oil. Fleshy oil, acid and delicious. Room full of friends, laughter, fluttering flour.