(Don't read it! It's written like shit!)
There is a flavor in the world that is hidden in memories, on the way home, and in words that can no longer be spoken.
Gu Zhou had been away from home for seven years and wrote countless stories about "eating", but he could never get around the knot in his heart. It wasn't until his father fell ill that he entered the long-lost old alley with hesitation.
The silence at the dinner table is heavier than any parting.
Coming back is reconciliation. But there is some distance that cannot be erased by just saying "I'm back".
He decided to hit the road.
Starting from Shanghai, we will go all the way to the distance along the mountains, rivers, lakes and seas, measuring the temperature of our hometown with our footsteps, and remembering the taste of fireworks with our stomach.
Suzhou's squirrel mandarin fish, Changsha's stinky tofu, Lanzhou's beef noodles, Chengdu's hot pot... Everywhere you go, there are stories, and every bite you take, you miss.
Gu Zhou thought that perhaps after traveling to hundreds of cities and tasting hundreds of flavors, he could truly understand the meaning of his father's words back then: "Boys, you have to be able to eat hot food."
At that time, he took the dust and smell of the journey home, placed a steaming basket of pan-fried pancakes on the table, and said, "Dad, this time, I really want to stay."
This is a long-overdue confession between father and son, and it is also a long journey of healing regrets with delicious food.
Reader comments
This is the first time I read a novel about food. The author writes while walking and eating. He is not in a hurry or slow, and he understands every little bit of life. They are all small stories, which is very interesting.
This is the first time I read a novel about food. The author writes while walking and eating. He is not in a hurry or slow, and he understands every little bit of life. They are all small stories, which is very interesting.