Porridge

It's getting less seasonal. The moon cake is made, the moon cake is eaten, and it doesn't feel like autumn. And it is not until we see the pieces of silver and the pieces of silver that are scattered, that we wonder: is it really autumn? Think about the calendar, think about the coolness that comes with the wind, look at this earth full of gold and silver, smelling the fragrance that's floating around, like it's really autumn. It's a shame it's been spilled by the wind. Although the trees are still better, there are some regrets. He will only be left to follow the wind with a great expanse. What are you doing with this? Make congee. All kinds of porridge should be good. Cinnamon blossoms, though fragrance, should not be too many, otherwise they may be somewhat bitter. And the fragrance shall not be scalded. I'll cook for two or three minutes. Gold and yellow cuisine are embedded in porridge like white and porridge, and it is shining. And the rice congee was dyed with light yellow。