That day I had lunch with my mom at home. She cooked herself, maybe to showed me how happy she was that I can accompany her. I took a little sip of the soup and started to think what material was contained. I guessed through all means, through whatever I was able to distinguish, but I couldn't find out a very critical ingredient that she put, according to her words. "That's so obvious, how's it even possible, that's so obvious." I tried and tried and tried but still failed. She told me it's fermented longan, she said she remembered it so clearly that when she was just a little girl, in the very cold winter. She went cross the street to under the windy weather and reached the store nearby, bought a bowl of sweet longan jujube soup. In that winter, she took a sip and looked up to the sky, with a deep deep deep deep satisfaction.
That's how she conserve the taste.
