"Eating tofu" in Cantonese has another meaning, not limited to the food itself. But the tofu I'm talking about is just tofu, a delicious food that is smooth, white and tender, and it crumbles when you touch it. I didn't like eating tofu in the past, I thought it was soft and had no personality.I don’t know how old I read an article, which described a child who was crying because he couldn’t eat fish. His mother stuffed a piece of tofu in his mouth. , smacking carefully, tasting slowly, deeply aftertaste, and then killing all the tofu on the plate in one fell swoop with the momentum of a hungry tiger - the description in the middle is extremely realistic and delicate, which aroused my appetite, so I specifically begged my mother to go to the street to buy a knife of tofu , and imitate the plot according to the plot in the novel, and complete the whole process of devouring contradictions, which is a lot of fun.

Since then, eating tofu has been regarded as a game. When I was in my twenties, in Guangzhou, I was eating side-burning at a roadside food stall with my colleagues all night, and suddenly I had a craving for tofu, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.But there is only one kind of meat tofu, which is wrapped in tofu and boiled in water to make the tofu have a meaty taste-Cantonese people like to make fuss about eating, but the result is that they use words to harm the meaning and lose the truth. for disappointment. There was a boy who sneaked around the food stalls in the whole street, bought all the meat tofu on the stalls, discarded the meat in the middle, and carefully cut off the four corners with a knife, so that there was no meat or fishy smell, and there was a lot of meat. With small holdings of fresh, smooth and tender clean tofu, he ran back holding Le Diandian in both hands, and warned the world while cooking: This is for Xueer, no one else is allowed to touch it!

The tears endured, endured, endured, and finally fell down.There is nothing better than this! — Then he became my boyfriend, then we broke up and never saw each other again. But every time I eat tofu, I will think of him, holding a piece of white and clear tofu in my hand, unable to put it in my mouth for a long time, looking at the tip of the chopsticks, my mind has already flown far away, ten years ago, innocent and sensitive In the 1980s, I flew to the roadside stalls, the lively streets of Guangzhou, and flew to the depths of my memory, that small handful of carob tofu full of love...

It turns out that the tofu in my heart is not just tofu. People love a certain food too much, but it is often not for the food itself.