No sooner than entered home, I trudged to the living room and collapsed on couch, more than one hour’s journey each day is absolutely an agony from many commuters including me, it seemed to devour my vigor and spirit unconsciously.

The bespectacled son invariably half lying on the other end of couch, who gazing the TV screen with remote controller on one hand and cracker in the mouth, Qing Mang, a serial information war play was on the air and known as a Chinese version of Prison Break.

My wife was busy making dinner in the kitchen, and I habitually walked in and ask anything I can do.

“Have a look the flour in the basin and it hasn’t been swelled at all since morning” said my wife helplessly.

Did you put some soda in it?

Of course, but it can’t work.

For a long time, I firmly thought myself as an expert in flour making, and often bragged my glorious history of meal making sine primary school.

After put some ferment powder, I took out the dough and kneaded for some time, made sure it would be better after twenty minutes.

The clock struck 21.00 p.m, both of us were waiting for the change, so we could turn out a meal in advance and save a lot of time tomorrow. To my surprise and despair, the flour dough remained the same and indicated little sign to swell as I took away the lid of basin in high spirit. Actually the bad result occurred many times before; I deeply doubt it resulted from the change of flour structure-some additive was put into it. Amid flooded report about food safety, toxic rice, dyed steamed bread and so on, few has confidence about his food on the table. I wish my failure in the meal making is my poor ability instead of poor food quality.