By eight in the morning, Kaohsiung’s concrete is still giving back the night’s heat, and sweat gathers on the back of a plastic chair. At the next table, a runner in a sleeveless shirt lowers a crisp youtiao into a steaming bowl of soy milk.
Hot soy milk, known locally as re doujiang, is a white and almost soup-like form of soybean drink.
Kaohsiung in the morning.
It is only a little past eight, but the air on the street is already heavy.
The concrete still holds the heat of the night.
Steam from griddles mixes with exhaust and the smell of cooked beans.
I sit on a plastic chair in a breakfast shop.
Sweat forms on my back without effort.
In this heat, a cold drink would seem natural.
At the next table,
a man in a running shirt faces a steaming bowl.
Inside it is this hot soy drink.
I know, in theory, that there is a local idea of food and medicine being one.
But in this temperature,
choosing something hot still feels strange.
The act of soaking
He lifts a youtiao with his chopsticks.
It is a fried wheat stick, dry on the outside and hollow inside.
He lowers it into the hot liquid.
Without hesitation.
Oil loosens.
The dough takes in moisture.
The color shifts slightly.
Then he brings the softened piece to his mouth.
I have seen this motion before.
Fried wheat,
dipped into a dark, warm drink.
In my memory,
it belongs to a scene in an American film.
A police officer in a patrol car,
soaking a donut in coffee.
The same gesture appears here in Kaohsiung,
with white soy drink and youtiao.
Donuts and fried dough
Why does a police officer dip a donut into coffee.
It is less about taste than about texture.
As time passes,
a donut dries and becomes crumbly.
On its own, it breaks apart in the mouth.
But in hot liquid,
sugar and fat melt,
wheat takes in moisture,
and for a brief moment it becomes easy to eat.
The fried dough on this table works the same way.
If this were iced soy drink,
the lard inside would harden.
Only the surface would become wet.
Inside, it would stay dry.
Wheat and fat would separate in the mouth.
In this heat, choosing the hot version does not look like discipline.
It looks like a decision made for the sake of the fried dough.
Soy drink as espresso
Between dips,
the man sips the soy drink on its own.
In Taiwan, this is not just a white liquid from beans.
In many shops, the beans are boiled at high heat.
A faint scorch appears on the surface.
This roasted note is strong in old places like Yonghe Soy Milk.
There, the drink carries less sweetness
and more of a toasted aroma.
When cold, this aroma sinks.
When hot, it rises into the nose.
Some people choose hot espresso even in summer.
This drink seems to have a similar layer
that opens only with heat.
A shape of practicality
The fried dough softens with heat.
The soy drink releases its aroma with heat.
Together,
they form a stable breakfast even in this climate.
This hot bowl does not feel like habit.
It feels like a choice of temperature
made to keep oil, wheat, and scent in balance.
Still, something cold
The reasoning is complete.
A morning with hot soy drink does not seem unreasonable.
The man beside me finishes his bowl.
Even so, today
I choose a glass of iced black tea with soy milk.
A sweet, cold liquid moves through the straw into my throat.
My body, more than any logic,
has decided.
— Detour —
a little further to walk
- Notes on Xian Doujiang and Youtiao in the Taiwanese Morning
- Notes on the Sweet Soy Milk That Moves a City
- Notes on a Breakfast Shop in Taiwan
