Wake me up before you Fuhang

It feels extreme to wake up at 5am to venture out for breakfast, even if we’ve been strongly recommended to do so, to avoid queues that form as early as 5:30. The street is cold, clean, and empty. It’s not even dawn yet. Only taxi drivers on their way to and from work, and the occasional street-sweeper pass us. Scooters are parked in neat rows as their drivers sleep, or so we assume. 

If you weren’t looking for Fuhang — or Fuhang Soy Milk, as it’s officially named — you’d miss it. The five-time winner of a Bib Gourmand is located on the first floor of a completely innocuous looking building, though the queue outside will tell you that you’ve found the place. It would seem the streets outside were empty, not because people were sleeping, but because Taipei residents were already pouring over bowls of fresh, steaming soy milk (Dou jiang), Chinese doughnuts (You tiao, a deep fried strip of wheat flour dough), and Fuhang’s signature ‘thick breads’. These come as-is, with a doughnut inside, or filled with scrambled egg and green onion.

There are no frills to speak of here; you queue, order at the counter, and your tray is filled with a breakfast known and loved by every Taipei resident, before you have time to get cash from your wallet. Efficiency is key at Fuhang. Diners have places to be, and staff know the queue will only get longer as the day goes on. And yet, there is a quiet peace about the people who are seated, and tucking in. The warm soy milk is deeply soothing and although the flatbread looks like an undertaking — made of a thick, soft dough — it’s surprisingly light, and folds perfectly over the slab of steaming egg in the middle. 

The soy milk for which Fuhang is famous is not the same as the soy milk we put in tea or coffee. These two varieties even have different names in Chinese; dou jiang (meaning bean broth, in Mandarin) comes in a bowl, by definition is fresh, and is often served hot, whereas dounai (referring to bean milk) is more dairy-like, and always consumed from a cup. The former is made by soaking soybeans, blending them with water, straining out the pulp, and then applying heat to remove some of the beany flavour, leaving behind a light yet nourishing broth that I can only describe as tasting sweet in the way that only edamame can. 

It is common, in Fuhang, to order your soy milk either sweet or savoury, with the latter adding a splash of vinegar that splits the milk, making it more of a curd porridge than a sweet broth. The savoury option is served with a sprinkle of green onion on top. Whether you’re salty or sweet — everyone has a preference, and a strong one at that — the doughnut is best enjoyed torn into chunks and soaked in soy milk, crouton-style. Floating atop your broth, it is easy to appreciate the doughnut’s genius; crispy enough as not to go soggy too soon, and unsweetened to keep it versatile; the perfect companion to your soymilk, whatever way you like it. 

There isn’t a single person I speak to over the next several days that hasn’t been to Fuhang; with everyone offering their preference of savoury or sweet upon mention of the city’s seemingly most famous breakfast joint. Dou jiang isn’t unique to Taipei, but it has become synonymous with Taiwan, so if you’re lucky enough to find yourself on this beautiful island, it’s worth getting up at 5am to go in search of soy milk. 

Header image: Rico Pai