蒸笼揭盖时，焦糖色的酥皮如晚霞层层绽放，蜜汁沿着金黄脆壳滴落成琥珀色的钟乳石。

咬破的刹那，叉烧肉裹着桂花蜜的暖流涌出，甜咸交织似琵琶弦上滚落的珍珠，肥瘦相间的纹理里藏着老灶台柴火噼啪的旧时光。

面皮内壁吸附的酱色，像宣纸上晕开的工笔牡丹，最后齿间残留的芝麻香，是点心师傅用铜铲在铁锅上翻炒出的星屑银河。



When the steamer is uncovered, the caramel colored puff pastry blooms layer by layer like a sunset glow, and honey drips along the golden crispy shell into amber colored stalactites.

At the moment of biting, the warm current of Grilled pork wrapped in sweet osmanthus honey poured out, sweet and salty intertwined like falling pearls on the pipa string, and the fat and thin texture hid the old days of old stove firewood crackling.

The soy color adsorbed on the inner wall of the dough is like the fine brushwork peony blooming on rice paper, and finally the residual sesame fragrance between the teeth is the star crumbs Milky Way that the Dim sum chef fried on the iron pan with a copper shovel.