stars, a girl who loves to eat after 85 years, since she's had a child, and since she's had a mother's experience, she likes to eat, because the child is more like a cooking monster, and all kinds of food are never faked, so she's got a lot of cooking, so she's always asked for recipes and squares, so i'll put my heart together to apply for public places, expect your attention, search for xing sichu's attention! if you happen to like it, it's my happiness, because it's really a very happy and happy thing i can share with people. for the first time in june, the star-cooked cook is in a free open course on twitter to share the details of the cookie. if you happen to like it, join our group, focus on the public name xing sichu, and leave your little signal
Not at all. Lazy, I don't want to move. There's a stupid move to climb up the roof and spread its tan. It's like you should do something but you're lazy. Thinking of the curry curry onion cake that was once conceived, if you have to do something. The delay, until sunset, finally began. It's a long time ago. The curry is rich in curry, and the curry can be saved. Even salt and pepper powder for onions can be used. Two curry creams, which should be enough, at least, to be light or thick. The water's a little heated and the curry is turned out. Turning around and starting with protein, everything seems normal. Is the protein going too fast? Light flashing through the mind, too late to catch. Mixed protein with yolk, first known as a bubble. One third of the proteins are increasingly being mixed with yellow paste to create a water sample. Started to get a little busy, tortuous, and subconsciously wanted it not to be too bad. Not enough protein? There's yolk mixed in? Curry cream will melt. A series of flashing questions. Attempts to search for details in memory are only a blurry impression. It's as if it's too even and too much. That's it. Three eggs, eight inches between six inches and eight inches, and now it's only eight inches. All of this is coming to an orgasm at the end of the day — and the planned 156 was screwed to a hundred eighty-nine. Colours are much ahead of expectations, and even if the temperature is reduced, it will not help. In half an hour it's decided to finish the baking, a pizza, which should be ripe. It's really a omelet, demo, cut. The softness of the wind, which may be close to the cooling marfin, may seem looser. Forget it once was an imaginary twilight, and an eggcake like that tasted pretty good. If I'd known, I'd have done it。
