There is a famous story in my family about my younger brother, Nick. Well, now I guess you would call it infamous. There was a fancy buffet we would always go to for Mother’s Day when we younger. The cool thing about being a kid at a buffet was that you got to choose all the stuff you wanted to eat and skip all the gross stuff. But you got to feel like a grown up for a little moment in time. We would make multiple trips up to the buffet, piling our plates full of chicken, pasta, beef, and maybe some veggies. Most of the time, we wouldn’t finish what we had on our plate before we went back up for a new one. But that was the joy of a buffet; you called the shots. On a trip to the buffet, my brother Nick came with little white, circular, noodle-like tubes. He was so proud of his buffet find that he was walking back to the table and eating off his plate at the same time. I looked at those “noodles” and wondered how I missed them on the buffet. “Mom, Dad. What kind of noodles are these?” …

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