Old onions

I started cooking alone in the fifth grade of primary school, without having to prepare anything for adults, often making, or most of all, onions. I learned to drop a bowl of flour on the board, then to crush out a large nest with a potion, to mix it with water, and in many cases when the water knife is fast, the wall breaks, and the “flood” explodes, and there is a lot of anger when it's too late to know that it can be in the basin and on the surface, and it's really interesting to think about it. The main reason I like to make onion cakes is that they can't be made, they need to be prepared in half by adults, and the other reason is that onion cakes can be eaten several times only in pickles, and onion oil salt tastes the most primitive. I still like to make onion cakes when I'm a family, and my husband likes to eat his son, and he grew up eating onion cakes, which can be concluded, because we're so close to where we live, eating the same food habits, and getting married is a lot less trouble than eating anything. The smell of being a child, the taste of it, the memory of it, the memory of it, the recollection of it. It's not happiness。