翡翠般的西兰花簇在素白瓷盘里，每一朵花蕾都裹着金黄的蒜末，像初春枝头突然爆开的杨花。

热油激发的蒜香如晨雾漫过青瓷边缘，花茎断面还沁着焯水后的晶莹，恍若雨打芭蕉时留在叶脉间的银珠子。

咬下时脆响清亮，蒜粒在齿间迸出星火，而后涌上喉头的鲜甜，是菜农拂晓时摘下的那截带着露水的月光。

Jade like broccoli clusters in a plain white porcelain plate, each bud wrapped in golden garlic powder, like a poplar flower suddenly blooming on a branch in early spring.

The garlic aroma stimulated by hot oil spreads like morning mist over the edges of celadon, and the cross-section of the flower stem is still glistening with the crystal after blanching, like silver beads left between the veins of banana leaves in the rain.

When bitten, it makes a crisp and clear sound. Garlic grains burst into sparks between the teeth, and then the fresh sweetness surged up the throat. It was the dew covered moonlight that the vegetable farmer picked at dawn.