Tofu trap

When I was a kid, it was the happiest day we had as a child, when Mom and Dad were busy chopping, bagging dumplings, frying (fried sticks, radish balls), steaming buns, preparing for one of the richest meals in a year, a time of material deprivation, eating dumplings, fried food, and the happiest. Look at Mom's skilled slices, covered face, blown up into a golden twig in the oil, and let's see the silly eyes of a bunch of eyeballs, and wait till the twirl cools down, and we'll all take one big, hot, and we'll both eat and breathe. Mom's funny and sweet, and she'll slow us down and say you'll eat this year. We smiled, ran, ran, and, despite the oil, each took a few pieces and went out to show off to a little partner ... After so many years, and not so much as a little boy, I was still used to the annual spring bang, especially as a mother, thinking that the mother of that year was not just a good meal, but also a New Year's atmosphere. It's not only New Year's, but it's usually made for food. Every time I do it, I think of my mother as a child, as if she taught me to do it with her hand, as if she had done it before I did it