When I was young, I could only eat the fried mahjong in the new year, 28 or 29 years ago, and saw my mother rub her face and cut it open with a knife. At that point, my mother would call me and do it with her. When the pot is pouring oil and heating, me and my mom swung the strips into a circle, then we folded them into sacks, and put them in oil, and slowly blew them into gold. When the first one came out a little cold, my mother broke half and let me taste it. A few days ago, he went out to Tianjin to buy mahjong flowers on the 18th Street of Tianjin. Think about it. It's the best thing you can do. It's not fried. It's baked in the oven。