Ego, the alright commentator with a horse's face, held a fork in one hand and a pen in the other, ready to write down criticism after taking a bite. But at the moment when the food is imported, it freezes and returns to the front of time. Childhood Ego stood at the door of the kitchen bathed by the sun, and his mother who was cooking smiled back and brought him the food made by himself. At the moment of entrance, that is, the taste of Ratatouille.
This is a clip from the Disney cartoon Ratatouille, Ratatouille.
Ratatouille was originally intended to be a French stew in Provence. I don’t even know what the simmering tastes like. I only had a Northeast simmering with Zhutoudong at the ice rink of Sichuan University, which is not very authentic. The flouriness of the potatoes is attached to the pork belly and beans, and the taste is still ok.
Abroad simmering is a dish in which vegetables are boiled and cooked with Provencal gravy. Provencal gravy, I guess it's vegetable juice with some seasoning, like our toppings.
In the film, this gravy is the focus. And Tiny Chef who made this thick sauce, the little mouse named Remy, is the protagonist.
I've always been creepy about Rat, and I'm more scared of these little things than snakes. I always think snakes are scary, but very clean. Snakes seem to be one of the most clean animals. And those little things, dirty and with disgusting gray fur. I was so afraid of them that I didn't even dare to say the word "rat" or listen.
When I started watching, my eyes flickered intentionally or unintentionally, just because I was afraid to achieve 100% contact with those little things. Later, too, I was afraid to see their red fleshy claws and ears.
They say the movie is an inspirational one. God knows what bothers me the most are inspirational films. But I love the food inside, but I hate the little things. hey, contradiction. If you want me to eat food made from those little things, I can't imagine it. Hey, forget about them. Talk about the dish in the movie that reminds Ego of his childhood and his mother's dishes.
The Ratatouille - vegetable chowder. Delicious but not expensive. It's the taste. The taste of childhood, the taste of mother. Why are the tastes in those memories always unforgettable and difficult to retrieve? The taste of the ordinary food we ate in our childhood still lurks in the corner as we grow older. But after being touched, it poured out and filled every taste bud.
I still remember going to my aunt's house in the afternoon to watch TV, and my aunt gave peach cake.
I still remember the fans who burned in the eyes of briquettes in winter.
I still remember the first time I cooked the red rice tea porridge.
I still remember going to the mountain behind the street with Gou Mao, stealing potatoes and taro from other people's ponds and burning them on the hillside.
I still remember going to Qingzhuxi for spring outing with my high school classmates, and each of us carried a green onion that was scalded in a pot.
I still remember that during the postgraduate entrance examination, in order to resist the cold, I asked two research friends to go to the school to eat large pieces of sour radish.
I still remember the first time I entered a luxury restaurant, the steamed mandarin fish was almost wiped out by me.
I still remember being in our dormitory with Xiangu and making me close my eyes and munching on roast duck with satisfaction.
I still remember those sour candies, so that my high school classmates still remember them.
... the smells in my
memory...
some of the smells, maybe it's not because of the smell itself that I can't forget it. Maybe it's because of the people who cook, maybe it's because of the eating environment, maybe it's because of something else, maybe it's not because of anything. In short, it was so deeply imprinted in my mind.
Maybe I am happy. Like a childhood Ego shrouded in sunlight.
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