Story narration of sesame seed cake

I believe many people have written compositions, especially narratives. The central idea of narrative is generally contained in concrete materials and expressed through vivid descriptions of people, things and things. So what does a good narrative look like? The following is the story of the baked wheat cake I helped you sort out. Welcome everyone to learn from and refer to. I hope it helps you.

I don't like the story 1. There are a lot of baked cakes in it, but I like selling baked cakes in Nanyun snack because there is a very kind little brother there. He is thin and tall, and often wears a faded dress. He looks thirteen or fourteen.

I remember one time, it was a winter, the north wind roared and the snow was falling. That day, I walked in the cold street and went to Nanyun snacks at the gate of the community to buy food. I finally arrived. When I saw that there was no store, I shouted a few times and said I was leaving. A loud voice came from behind: "Little brother, do you want to buy food?" I nodded and said, "OK, little brother, I want three yuan of sesame cakes and three yuan of meat pies." The little brother was a little sad, but he still tried to smile and said, "Dad is ill, so he opened the store so late." After that, he tidied up what I wanted. I paid the money and just said I was leaving. My little brother stopped me: "Little brother, you gave me an extra dollar." I saw it, and sure enough. But I still said, "Isn't it just a dollar? I don't want it. It's not easy for you to be outside. Take it. " He said to me again, "No, it's not my money. I can't stand it. It doesn't belong to me. " Say that finish, then put a dollar into my hand. Suddenly, a warm current flowed all over my body, and I was moved by his innocence. One yuan is small, but his spirit is precious! I stayed there for a while and then went home. A few days later, my little brother moved away and I haven't seen him since.

Ah, kind and naive little brother! I miss you so much!

The story of sesame seed cake narrative 2 During the winter vacation, I went to cram school, ate delicious sesame seed cake and walked on my way home.

Suddenly, a cool breeze blew, and I couldn't help shivering. The biscuits in my hand also fell off my hand with the cool breeze, like a naughty child "rolling" and "rolling". I saw the naughty boy roll towards a beggar in rags. "Ah ah! My dinner tonight! I ran away. " I rushed over and just wanted to pick up the sesame cake when my dark hand beat me to it. I looked at the beggar and froze. In fact, I really want to steal the sesame seed cake from me, but my family education forced me. In fact, I don't want to earn a living with a beggar, but I think this beggar is a bit rude.

I thought for a long time, and then looked at the beggar. His eyes were firm and he handed me the sesame seed cake. I was shocked again. He is not greedy. It's just that when I was daydreaming, I wiped this kind of sesame seed cake covered with plaster with my cuffs. I looked at the sesame seed cake and handed it to the beggar. Then put the change in the beggar's small bowl. The beggar looked at me gratefully and began to eat. I turned and left.

On the way home, my stomach was empty. After getting on the subway, I closed my eyes and recalled all this. I don't have cookies, and I haven't changed my mind. The only thing left is the admiration left by beggars. On this starry night, I looked at the sky and thought about all this.

I saw the honest spirit of beggars from this sesame seed cake.

The story narrative of sesame seed cake 3 "Wow! It smells good! " When my friends and I came out of the library, our faces smelled bad and we couldn't help walking towards the roadside stall. Smelling the fragrance, my stomach began to growl and sang "Empty City Plan". My mother usually doesn't let me eat roadside stalls, saying that roadside stalls are unsanitary. But looking at so many buyers, I thought there was no absolute thing.

All the delicious Wu Dalang cookies are sold from the boss. I stared at the sesame seed cake, swallowed and made up my mind to buy one. The baked sesame seed cake just made was hot, and I couldn't wait to pick it up. My saliva "flew down to thousands of feet" and I took a big bite. It smells delicious. You can never eat such delicious cakes at home. I ate while walking. After a while, I got into my stomach, wiped my mouth and went home happily.

However, as soon as I got home to rest, my stomach began to "rebel" with a burst of colic and ran back and forth like thousands of bugs. My stomach hurts more and more, but I want to vomit but I can't. My stomach is so high that my heart is blocked. My red face turned into a blank sheet of paper, and my palms were sweating. Scared my family, I told my mother truthfully that I ate Wu Dalang sesame seed cake, and my mother found a backup medicine at home-Baoji Pill, which was better. I went to the hospital again ... I didn't get home until evening. At this time, my mother scolded me like a brush bean. Every day, the teacher told me that I couldn't eat the three products and the unsanitary roadside stalls, and the words lingered in my ears.

Yes, the fragrant sesame seed cake made me understand what disease is from the mouth, so I must control my mouth in the future. At present, many unhealthy food vendors abuse food additives or use industrial additives as food additives in order to make the shelf life longer, taste better and earn more profits, so that food hygiene and safety cannot be guaranteed. We should stay away from those unsanitary foods and unsanitary roadside stalls. Don't be like the host on TV: "whoever dares to eat a roadside stall will be fine!" " I also hope that businesses can operate in good faith and make reassuring food!

Story narrative of sesame seed cake 4 When I was five or six years old, Gengzhuang was still a market. The market is very lively. Sellers and shoppers come to the market. Some people don't buy or sell anything, just watch the fun.

Because of the long time, I can't remember the layout of the Gengzhuang Collection at that time, but I clearly remember the time when my eldest brother and second brother went to the Gengzhuang Collection to buy biscuits. My mother in her eighties often tells this true story to young people. The 1960s was the most difficult time. People were struggling on the poverty line. Although there were baked wheat cakes in every episode, not to mention me, even my second brother had never eaten baked wheat cakes! There happened to be a party in Gengzhuang that day, and there was no class at school. My mother saw three sallow and emaciated children standing in front of her, and took out 30 cents from her pocket and gave it to the three of us: "You each have 10 cents, so go to Gengzhuang and buy a sesame seed cake!" And let my big brother lead me, don't lose me. The three of us happily went to the market in Gengzhuang, three miles away.

Along the way, people went to the market. Some of them pick a cart full of vegetables, some bring two lambs, and some' carry a few eggs'. In short, as long as they can change a few dollars, the industrious poor will tighten their belts and live in poverty. We soon found a place to sell baked wheat cakes and watched people buy baked wheat cakes. The smell of baked wheat cakes overflowed all over the street, which really made people drool. I saw that the people who made sesame cakes mixed the noodles, made them into small round cakes, sprinkled sesame seeds, cut the edges with a knife, and then sent them to the pot for baking. It is a special sesame seed cake pot, upside down, with a small door to enter the sesame seed cake, and a charcoal fire is burning below, and the raw cake is sent into the pot for baking. Until the front of the baked sesame seed cake turns yellow and red, and the fragrance of sesame seeds floats out, it is cooked. Looking at the busy craftsmen, we kept sucking saliva, and the temptation of sesame cakes was too great. Eldest brother bought three biscuits with 30 cents, and each of us shared one. Big brother and second brother gently took a bite of sesame seed cake and tasted it, as if it were the most beautiful delicious food in the world. I can't bear to eat a bite of my own sesame cake, and my mother has never been willing to eat it. Even the steamed buns made of vegetable leaves are for us to eat. She always said: You are tall, you can eat! I'm going to leave my biscuits for my mother to eat. My eldest brother rubbed his hands regretfully after listening to my idea. The biscuit didn't fill his stomach at all, and he didn't even taste what it was. The second brother only ate half and stopped eating. He wanted to leave half for his mother. Only the youngest one, I went home with a complete sesame seed cake.

When I got home, I gave it to my mother and even ordered her to "eat!" Just like she ordered us to. Second brother also gave his mother half of his baked wheat cake. He felt that a biscuit was not enough for her to eat. Eldest brother has been guilty to say: "I finished eating, alas ..." At this moment, my mother was deeply moved. She touched our heads one by one, kissed us affectionately with a half-baked cake, and praised us as good children who are very sensible. At our request, my mother only bit my cookies. Then let the second brother eat half of his own sesame seed cake and give mine to the eldest brother. And what she bit was fed to her little brother who was not sensible. At that moment, we were all very moved. One and a half baked wheat cakes were interpreted as a family story, and the mother was very proud of having such a son.

In a blink of an eye, more than forty years have passed, and I heard that the life of our rural hometown in Shan County has also undergone earth-shaking changes. That poor era has become a precious memory in our lives. My mother still remembers the sesame seed cake and has been telling it to her grandchildren. She is instilling a spirit in young people, that is, the virtue of filial piety to the elderly. Now this kind of virtue is badly needed in this society, and it needs to be carried forward and passed down from generation to generation.