英语沙龙:Food for Thought-引人深思（在线收听）

Food for Thought

From the time I was a child growing up in New Jersey，I loved spending weekends with my grandparents．Their big old house was cozy1)，and I felt especially welcome and relaxed in Granny's small kitchen．It was there that we  had intimate conversations，and Granny always seemed to include morsels2) of wisdom with every recipe she prepared．

    I remember one Saturday morning in particular．I was about １１years old and had spent the night3)．After breakfast I asked Granny，“What kind of soup are you making today？”I could smell the broth4) simmering5) in a blue－speckled enamelware pot6) on top of the old gas stove．

    “Vegetable beef，”she answered．“And you can help by chopping7) some carrots and celery．”

    Granny tied an apron around her full waist8)．We got the vegetables from the refrigerator：onions，carrots，celery，potatoes and cauliflower9)．She gave me a knife and cutting board so I could do my share of the work．

    As I slowly peeled carrots，I lamented10)，“I've got to give an oral book report next week and I' m scared．”

    Granny looked at me and then back to the handful of chopped onions she had measured in her hand．She dumped11) them into the soup pot and said，“Most people are afraid of public speaking．But remember，the only thing we have to fear is fear itself．So，what exactly are you afraid of？”

    I slumped12) in my chair．“Everything，I guess．I don' t like standing up in front of everybody．What if I forget what I'm going to say？Or what if somebody laughs？”

    “And what if you do just fine？”Granny asked．“Have you prepared notes？”

    “Well，no．That would be a lot of extra work．”

    “Hard work never hurt anyone，”Granny cautioned as she pointed the wooden spoon toward me．“You could try practicing in front of a mirror．”

    I pushed the pieces of carrots to the side of the cutting board．The room was quiet except for Granny's thick－heeled13) lace－up14) shoes clicking across the worn linoleum15) floor．She took the chopped carrots to the stove and added them to the soup．Then，as I sliced celery，I went on to complain about  schoolwork，friends and family．As far as I was concerned，I  had more troubles than the amount of chopped vegetables on the wooden cutting board in front of me．

    Granny took it all in16)，listening patiently while I sputtered17) about the bits and pieces of grief in my life．Wiping her hands on her apron，she brushed a strand18) of curly gray hair from her brow and sat down next to me．That close，I could smell the scent of her face powder19)．It not only whitened her face but made every wrinkle show up too．

   I stopped cutting and looked into my grandmother's blue－gray eyes．Her expression was stern20) yet gentle．“Nancy，”she started，“there's nothing wrong with a little trouble in your life．It adds character．”

   I sat back，but Granny leaned closer．Her glasses，which hung from a chain around her neck，hit the table，emphasizing her movement．I know she must have something important to say．

   “Do you like my soup？”she asked．Soup？I wondered．I  thought we were talking about my life．

   “I love your soup，Granny．”I said．

   “Well，you know，a lot of people don't make home－made soup these days．They say it's too much trouble．First you have to cook a nice broth and then chop all the vegetables into bite－size pieces．”

   “But I don' t mind a little trouble，”she said．“It adds variety and flavor to my soup－－and to my life．My soup would be pretty bland without the vegetables，and so would my life if it didn't have the little ups and downs21)．”

   After pausing she added，“Besides，you have to remember that God knows exactly what he' s cooking up in your life．You've got to trust him with the recipe22)．”She smiled and then walked to the sink to start washing the dishes．

   While I helped Granny clean up，I thought about what she had said．I still had a few days to practice my oral report．

   That Saturday，Granny gave me food for thought as well as a bowl of her homemade soup．Every spoonful of Granny's masterpiece23) was loaded with delicious bits of meat and vegetables．As I enjoyed the meal with my  grandparents，somehow my problems didn't seem quite so big anymore．I would have to work on them，but  Granny had said hard work paid off24)．Maybe I too could turn a little trouble into something as special as Granny's homemade soup．
引人深思

小的时候我是在新泽西长大的，那时，我就喜欢和祖父母一起度周末。他们的老房子很大，温暖又舒适。我觉得在奶奶的小厨房里特别随意、放松。我们常在那里进行亲密的交谈。奶奶总是在她准备的每一个菜谱里加上点滴哲理。

    我特别清楚地记得，那是一个星期六的早晨，那时我大概是１１岁，前一天我在那儿刚过的夜，吃完早点，我问奶奶：“你今天做什么汤？”我已闻到旧煤气炉上有蓝色斑点的搪瓷锅里炖的肉汤的香味。

    “蔬菜牛肉汤，”她回答道。“你可以帮我切点儿胡萝卜和芹菜。”

    奶奶在她那粗壮的腰上系了个围裙。我们从冰箱里取出了蔬菜：洋葱、胡萝卜、芹菜、土豆，还有菜花。她递给我刀和菜板，以便我做我那份活。

    我边慢吞吞地给胡萝卜削着皮，边抱怨道：“我下礼拜还要做一个口头的读书报告，我有些害怕。”

    奶奶看了看我，然后回头看了看她手里的那把掂量好了的切碎的洋葱。她把洋葱放在汤锅里，说：“大多数人都害怕在公众面前讲话，但你要知道，我们惟一要怕的就是害怕本身。那么你到底怕什么呢？”

    我一下倒在靠椅里。“好像什么都怕，我不喜欢站在众人面前。我如果忘了要说的话怎么办？如果有人嘲笑我怎么办？”

    “要是你一切都做得很好呢？”奶奶说。“你有没有准备发言稿？”

    “嗯，没有，那要多花工夫。”

      “多干活累不坏人，”奶奶用手中的木勺子指着我告诫说。“你可以对着镜子试着练练。”

    我把菜板上的胡萝卜块推到一边。屋子里寂静无声，只能听到奶奶系带的厚跟鞋在破旧的铺着漆布的地板上发出的咔哒声。她把切好的胡萝卜拿到煤气炉前放在汤里。接着我一边把芹菜切成小细条，一边继续抱怨学校的作业、朋友以及家人。在我看来，我的麻烦要比我面前木菜板上切好的菜的数量还要多。

    当我结结巴巴地讲诉着那些琐碎的不愉快的事情时，奶奶耐心地听着，都听明白了。她在围裙上擦了擦手，将额头上的一缕卷曲的白发理了一下，在我的身边坐了下来，坐得那样近，我几乎闻到了她脸上的香粉气息。这不仅使她的脸看起来白皙了，而且使皱纹都露了出来。

    我停住了切菜的手，盯着奶奶灰蓝的眼睛。她的表情和蔼而严肃。“南希，”她开始说，“生活中有一点点麻烦算不了什么，这会磨砺性格的。”

    我往后靠了靠，她却向前逼得更近了。她那用链子挂在脖子上的眼镜碰在桌子上，突出了她的动作。我知道她一定有重要的话要说。

    “你喜欢我的汤吗？”她问道。汤？我们谈的是我的生活呀，我心里想着。

    “我喜欢你的汤，奶奶，”我说。

    “那么你知道，现在很多人不再自家做汤了，他们说太麻烦，你得先调好肉汤，然后把所有的蔬菜切成适口的小块。”

    “但是小麻烦我是不在乎的，”她说。“这使我的汤和我的生活增添了花样和滋味。没有这些蔬菜，我的汤就会乏味，生活中如果没有点小坎坷同样会如此的。”

    停了一会，奶奶又接着说：“而且，你要记住，上帝完全知道他要把你的生活安排成什么样，你要相信他的菜谱。”她笑了，然后走到洗涤槽前开始刷碗。

    我帮奶奶收拾的时候思考着她说的话。我还有几天时间可以练习我的口头报告。

    那个星期六，奶奶不仅给了我一碗自家做的炖菜汤，也给我提出了一个引人深思的问题。奶奶那精心调制的每一勺都含有美味的肉和菜。当我和爷爷奶奶享用美餐时，不知怎的，我的问题似乎不再那么大了。我得应付我的问题，奶奶说过努力工作是有回报的。也许我也能将一点麻烦变成一个像奶奶自家炖的菜汤一样特别的东西。