青花瓷盘中，琥珀色的鸡块泛着蜜糖般的光泽，葱油如晨露般缀在金黄鸡皮上；当热油浇淋的刹那，青葱碎在蒜末与姜丝间迸发清香，像岭南雨季突然放晴时，芭蕉叶上滚落的最后那滴阳光。

鸡皮脆如蝉翼，咬开时嫩白的肉纹里渗出琥珀色的汁水，蘸着葱油在舌尖化开，恍若听见后厨砂锅里正咕嘟着二十年的老卤香。

In the blue and white porcelain plate, the amber colored chicken chunks have a honey like luster, and the scallion oil is sprinkled on the golden chicken skin like morning dew.

When the hot oil is poured, the green onions burst into a fragrant aroma between the garlic and ginger shreds, like the last drop of sunlight rolling off the banana leaves when the rainy season suddenly clears in Lingnan.

The chicken skin is as crispy as cicada wings, and when bitten open, amber juice seeps out from the tender white flesh lines. It is dipped in scallion oil and melts on the tip of the tongue, as if hearing the aroma of twenty years of old brine brewing in the kitchen clay pot.