Crispy fried lotus root

I was born in the Northeast and grew up in the Northeast. I never ate lotus root when I was a child. Occasionally, after drinking a cup of lotus root starch, the rare fragrance remained between my lips and teeth. The charm of lotus appeared in my mind, thinking that this vulgar aroma was the soul of lotus. I also thought that only when the lotus is lost can lotus seeds be produced, and only when the lotus seeds are withered can they be produced. "The withered lotus is about to break, and the sound of leaving is blocking the horizon and telling the boredom." So, I felt like I heard the lingering lingering songs like songs and tears where the lotus root was broken. I wonder if the person who grinds lotus root flour would be moved by such a sound. My heart had long been wet. Later, when I saw someone selling lotus roots in the market, although I was moved, I just watched from a distance. Later, after getting married, my mother-in-law would fry lotus roots every time it was New Year. One frying pot makes a pot. There is a dish on the table, and when you leave the table, there are snacks. Everyone else likes it very much, but I, far away from lotus, and lonely thinking about the Baiyangdian in Sun Li's works.
In the blink of an eye, my mother-in-law is getting older, and the reunion during the New Year has long been changed to our home. I will prepare carefully, cook, fry, and fry, but there is no lotus root. My foolish father always talks about it. I am the one who has soft ears and can't stand being talked about. Moreover, since I opened the "Han Niang Private Kitchen", I can't tolerate the situation where my family wants to eat but can't eat it. Isn't it just a couple? How difficult is it? Whether it is lotus root or lotus, it will eventually be imported. Even lotus flowers have been made into tea. So go buy it. As for the recipe, it's completely copied from the eggplant I usually make. In the end or Han Niang my ingenuity, the first attempt was a small victory. As soon as the lotus roots were out of the pot, my foolish father came over with a suspicious look. He stared at my lotus roots and examined them. He grabbed one and took a small bite. Next, his actions were definitely silent and sound at this time-he filled the rest of the lotus roots into his mouth at once and turned to warm the wine!
How can there be no wine? Such a delicious lotus root is crispy on the outside, crispy on the inside, and tender filling. How can the word fragrant be so good!