蒸笼揭盖的刹那，白雾如昆曲水袖般舒卷，半透明的饺皮透出翡翠色的韭菜光影。

褶皱处凝着琥珀般的肉汁，像故宫窗棂上欲坠未坠的晨露，轻轻一碰就淌出三春柳色的鲜甜。

咬破时荸荠粒脆响如踏碎薄霜，虾仁的鲜在舌尖绽开六月荷风，最后萦绕的姜末香气，是灶台边外婆用粗瓷碗接住的那缕袅袅炊烟。



At the moment when the steamer was uncovered, the white mist curled up like Kunqu Opera sleeves, and the translucent dumpling skin revealed the emerald colored light and shadow of chives.

The folds are condensed with amber like meat juice, like the morning dew on the window frames of the Forbidden City that is about to fall but has not yet fallen. With a gentle touch, a fresh and sweet spring willow color flows out.

When bitten, the crisp sound of water chestnuts is like stepping on thin frost, the freshness of shrimp blooms on the tip of the tongue in the June lotus breeze, and the lingering aroma of ginger is the wisp of smoke caught by the grandmother's thick porcelain bowl by the stove.