Although my brother farts, but fortunately my brother is still there, the soul is not scattered. I dare not eat various "blood" dishes in China. When I came to Hong Kong, I released it. The celery braised goose red was eaten at Gan's house. The moment the tooth touched, the goose red had a trace of resistance, and the small tension inspired my desire to conquer. Lip and teeth one by one, long-lost gentle flash, the taste will be a little more tough than tofu, the aroma of leeks lingering on the tip of the nose, mixed dozens of flavors of spices of old bran to make the goose red rejuvenate.