He still remembered the buckwheat his grandfather on his mother's side planted with his own hands when he was young, bitter with a hint of sweetness, the more you ate the more fragrant it became. Later, everything sold in the markets had lost that unique aroma.
"Wow, this is my first time eating it." Ada's eyes sparkled, feeling that in some ways she really was a country bumpkin.
Marcus Quinn curled his lips slightly and said in a low voice, "Buckwheat isn't grown in many places. People in the north eat noodles, people in the south eat rice, not many people eat this stuff. If we get the chance later, I can grow authentic buckwheat for you, let you have a taste."
