Zhou Dong shook his head repeatedly when he heard this, pushed open the door of the ward, pinched his nose and rushed in, but he didn't even look at the old madman sitting cross-legged on the bay window. He immediately opened the window and turned on the air conditioner to turn on the exhaust air, and then rushed out of the door quickly, covering his nose and waiting.

"Brother Dong, can't you bear such a little heat? It seems that your heart is still not calm enough, you have to cultivate your mind!

Otherwise, with your mentality, how can you go further in cooking skills?"

Why ask the old man with his back to Zhou Dong, sitting cross-legged on the bay window, with long hair floating, and his hospital uniform flying, and his voice was quite outspoken, just like a baritone singer suffering from wind and cold.

There was a bowl of noodles in front of me, and it seemed that I didn’t move a few chopsticks. Based on Zhou Dong’s experience of eating pastries in various cuisines these days, he could tell at a glance that this was the Fukuyama noodles in Shandong cuisine.

The characteristics of Fukuyama's large noodles are still very obvious: the strips are uniform in shape, mellow and lubricating, tough and soft, and the marinade is delicious.

It is divided into three types: solid, hollow, and dragon whisker. The noodles are divided into more than a dozen varieties such as large braised, warm braised, fried sauce, three fresh sauce, and clear soup. Why ask the bowl in front of you is flat noodles and fried sauce.

Zhou Dong frowned unconsciously. He ate five-star food these days, and he dealt with the special second-level white-college master. He could find many problems, let alone the master of the tea shed canteen.

This is also called sauce? Not to mention the black one, it does not have the shiny feeling that fried sauce should have. And that side is actually the kind of flat noodles sold in the supermarket! If it weren't for the taste of the marinade, it was a bit meaningful, so Zhou Dong probably wouldn't recognize that this is Fushan noodles.

"Yes? You can see that this is wrong, it's not for people to eat! Brother Dong is right?"

Why bother to ask Zhou Dong with a squinted look on his face: "Look at it, look, this is how they abuse our patients!"

"Grandpa He, this is not very good, so you don't need to look at it. But you are different from two or three months ago. You weren't so picky about eating before?"

Zhou Dong remembers that the old man’s food was the most delicious. He could have a bowl of white rice and a pickled radish strip for a big meal. He hadn’t seen him for only two or three months, so why did he become a gourmet?

There is also the poem just now, "The most delicious taste of the world is plum salt." Zhou Dong has seen many people who know how to eat during this period, but he has never heard of this.

"I would have eaten this way! I used to be seriously ill, but now my condition is getting better. Of course, I have requirements for treatment."
Chapter completed!