Storytime: Youtiao

I was visiting my brother in Boston. We don’t usually get brunch when we’re traveling together or visiting each other; we both prefer little bites throughout the day and making dinner the main culinary event.

On this day, though, he insisted on getting brunch. It was a Taiwanese breakfast spot somewhere slightly outside of Boston, almost ten years ago now. I don’t remember the name of the place or even the neighborhood it was in, but I vividly remember dunking my super fresh, crips donut into sweet soy milk. I remember the chatter of families in the late morning, and the gratitude to be among mine.