Taipei's street food

City walk: a tour of Taipei's street food

Wall Street Journal, April 24, 2009

Taipei boasts a wide variety of scrumptious, regional Chinese cuisines and a few down-home specialties, all of which stem from the island's history.

Take one part local food tradition, which shares much with southeastern Chinese fare and favors fresh seafood, especially oysters. Add a strong dash of Japanese flavor (like wasabi), culled from 50 years of Japanese colonization that ended in 1945.

Then mix in some of China's finest cooking traditions from Chongqing to Shenyang (think Sichuan-style gong bao ji ding (宮保雞丁-- kungpao chicken -- and northern China-style beef noodle soup) brought here by the Mandarin-speaking Kuomintang elite when they fled the mainland, along with their cooks, in the late 1940s.

The result: contemporary Taiwanese food.

For a city with a reputation among some foodies for having some of the world's best Chinese food, an eating tour of Taipei is highly appropriate. But it's not for the faint of heart, or small of stomach.

In fact, were you to actually consume all the food and drink on this itinerary, you'd feel more like a nap than a walk. Consider yourself warned: Nibble at the suggested stops, don't fill up. And pick and choose dishes according to your taste, appetite and endurance.

9 A.M. DOUJIANG AND YOUTIAO

For breakfast, start your stroll at the Taipei Fullerton, a boutique hotel on Fuxing South Road. From the hotel, turn left and cross Fuxing South Road. Soon, you'll hit a small strip of doujiang (soy milk, 荳漿) restaurants.

Head for the first one on the corner: Yonghe Doujiang Da Wang (永和 荳漿大王, Yonghe Soy Milk Emperor) at No. 102, next to a fire station. It takes its name from the suburb, Yonghe, where the original restaurant was located. Today, Yonghe-style breakfast joints are famous across the Chinese-speaking world.

The quintessential Yonghe-style breakfast is doujiang and youtiao (油條)-- soy milk and fried bread sticks. The soy milk comes cold or hot, spooned up from big vats near the entrance. If you want a more substantial breakfast, add the turnip cake with soy-based sauce (luo buo gao, 蘿蔔糕), a pancake-and-egg combo (shao bing jia dan), and crisp cakes (su bing), lightly baked, hollow thin cakes with sugar, sesame or peanut paste spread on the inside. You should be able to walk away with a full stomach for well under US$3.

10 A.M. AN DONG MARKET

From the breakfast place, turn right and continue south down Fuxing South Road. Take a right on Lane 148, Fuxing South Road (Taipei's side lanes are named after the roads they branch off).

Check out the betel-nut stand near the corner, and try some if you dare. This mild intoxicant is a favorite in Taiwan, India and some parts of Southeast Asia (but not mainland China). Working-class types here swear by the stuff, and you can tell a betel-nut fan by the telltale red stains around the mouth.

Across Taiwan, especially outside major cities, "betel nut beauties" -- 20-something females in microscopic outfits -- attempt to lure buyers to their roadside stands. But in Taipei, you're more likely to find a cranky middle-aged man or smiling granny selling the nuts. If you try it, bite or clip off the rind of the nut, then chew it like gum -- don't swallow it and be sure to spit out the juice, otherwise you're likely to get sick to your stomach. A small bag of nuts costs $1.50.

Continue walking down Lane 148 until you reach the An Dong market on your left, at No. 75 Rui An St. Here's your chance to check out a traditional Taiwanese market. Many are losing business to supermarkets, but they aren't extinct yet. Check out the butcher and the fruit stands. You'll also find shops selling "ghost money," paper that's burned for good fortune and to appease the gods or wandering spirits.

Leave the market and cut across Rui An Street to Lane 180, Rui An Street. There's an old-fashioned tea shop called Lao Ji Zi on your right, at No. 5 Lane 180. This is run by the Tseng family, who own tea fields in Taiwan and on the mainland.

Big metal canisters store their crop: oolong tea picked from Alishan, gaoshan (高山, high mountain) tea from Nantou County, and some much-prized puer tea, picked from trees in China's Yunnan province. The half-jin (500-gram) tins of tea make great gifts; a basic oolong costs $9, a tin of the gaoshan variety costs about $60. Say hello to Mrs. Tseng, who runs the shop while her husband tends to the fields in central Taiwan.

12 P.M. DA AN PARK

Lunch time. As you leave the tea shop, turn right and continue west on Lane 180, Rui An Street, which turns into Lane 151, Jianguo South Road.

The restaurant at No. 53 Lane 151 on your right is Mei Xiang La Mian Wu (open 12 p.m. to 2 p.m. for lunch, and 5 p.m. to 8 p.m. for dinner). Order the "clerk's pulled noodles" (xiao er lao mian in Mandarin), a light Chinese-style lunch. You'll get a pile of noodles with a generous dollop of minced beef in sauce, garnished with scallions and cilantro. Mix up the noodles and sauce before eating, then slurp away. This northern Chinese dish was popularized here by mainlanders who came in the late 1940s. A big bowl will cost you $2.20; a small bowl, $1.75.

After lunch, take a long walk through Da An Park. This 26-hectare patch of green is Taipei's answer to New York City's Central Park. On weekends, it's packed with rollerblading kids, dog-crazy Taipei urbanites walking their canines and bicyclists.

You'll enter on the east side of the park across from a public library. Make your way through to the southwest corner of the park -- you can take the shaded jogging path on your left, which runs along the edge of the entire park. The exit is across from a Sizzler steak house.

From the park exit, cross Xinsheng South Road, take a left and follow the road south. You'll come to the Wistaria Tea House (No. 1, Lane 16). This famous Taipei teahouse has recently re-opened after a long renovation.

Back in the days of martial law (1949 to 1987), democracy activists gathered here over pots of oolong tea to strategize. Now, it's an obligatory stop for local tea-lovers. The shop boasts a wide variety of Taiwan- and mainland-grown teas, served in a cozy, Japanese colonial-era setting, with low tables, tatami mats and partitions, as well as a no-shoe policy in some rooms.

Try the Bai Hao or "Oriental Beauty" oolong ($9) -- grown with the help of katydid (an insect related to a grasshopper) saliva. (The tea tastes better than it sounds.) Or have a sip of some Dong Ding oolong ($8) grown in central Taiwan. Show-offs can shell out $90 for the "Dragon and Horse Tong Qing Puer," a 1920s-vintage puer tea.

2:30 P.M. XIAO CHI STANDS

Heading west -- take a right as you exit Wistaria -- you'll hit two of this area's most popular xiao chi stands, or street-food stalls. Both usually have long lines, so bring a friend, a book or a lot of patience. (If you don't want to taste these foods here, there are clean, well-lighted restaurants later on in the walk.)

First, try the turnip cake at the stand at the corner of Heping East Road and Wenzhou Street (closed Sundays). One cake costs 75 U.S. cents. Taipei foodies swear by this stuff, and are willing to wait in nerve-straining lines to get their fix.

Next, order the pan-fried dumplings in the Shida Night Market -- it's called a night market, but food is served from the early afternoon through to the wee hours of the morning. Weave your way over to Longquan Street, and look for Xu Ji Sheng Jian Bao at No. 24, a food stall famous for this kind of dumpling. You can try just one for 20 cents, but most people buy five for 90 cents.

Exit the Shida market and backtrack your way north on Longquan Street -- you'll hit Yongkang Street after a leisurely 20-minute walk. This street boasts typical Taiwanese xiao chi, but in nicer surroundings than a typical night market.

Hao Ji Mei Shi Zhuan Mai Dian, on the west side of the street (No. 1, Lane 10), serves southern Taiwanese xiao chi -- local favorites include tu tuo yu gen, a hearty soup with chewy, breaded lumps of fish, and crispy oysters with pepper (in the local Taiwanese dialect, Minnan, this dish is called oasu; in Mandarin, it's ke zi su). A small bowl of the soup costs $1.50 and a small dish of oasu runs $3.

Heading north on the same side of Yongkang Street, you'll hit the restaurant Yongkang Kou (No. 1, Lane 6). Here, if you dare, sample two of Taiwan's most famous dishes, stinky tofu or chou doufu ($1.30) for a small serving), which lives up to its name, and oysters in a broth with vermicelli-like noodles (oamisua in Taiwanese, $1.15 for a small bowl; $1.60 for a large one).

Now, cross to the other side of Yongkang Street, turn left (north), and look for Tu Hsiao Yueh (No. 9-1 Yongkang St.).

Here you can sample southern Taiwanese-style minced pork noodles (danzi mian), either dry or in soup. A small serving costs $1.50. Wash down your noodles with the island's standby brew, Taiwan Beer (台灣啤酒, "Taiwan pijiu" or "Taipi" for short); one bottle costs $2.65.

5 P.M. DIN TAI FUNG

No culinary tour in Taipei would be complete without a stop at the restaurant Din Tai Fung for a taste of its Shanghai-style pork-soup dumplings (xiao long bao), served with sliced ginger and soy sauce.

Guidebooks swear by them; food snobs say they're overrated. Decide for yourself. One serving costs $5.30 and includes 10 dumplings.

To get there, continue north on Yongkang Street from the stinky-tofu joint, then hang a right on Xinyi Road. Just a few doors down is the original location of this now-famous chain restaurant (No. 194 Xinyi Rd., Section 2). Be warned, though: Hordes of tourist groups mob this place at peak mealtimes, so be prepared for a wait. Of course, you may need time to digest the other snacks you've just had.

6 P.M. NATIONAL CHIANG KAI-SHEK MEMORIAL HALL

Finish your tour with a brisk 15-minute walk west down Xinyi Road to the National Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. This monument to the dead autocrat (he ruled Taiwan from 1949 to his death in 1975), which opened in 1980 in a sprawling 25-hectare plaza, includes a grand concert hall at the other end of the square. It's best viewed at night, when it's illuminated by ground lights, and groups of middle-aged Taiwanese come to line dance to U.S. country-and-western songs on the plaza.

After a good rest and a break from eating, try Taiwan's famous pearl, or "bubble" milk tea -- a shaved ice-and-tea confection served with tapioca balls and jumbo-size straws. The place to get it is Chun Shui Tang, the central-Taiwan store that invented it in late 1980s, and there's a branch in the ground floor of the National Concert Hall on the north side of the memorial plaza (the shop closes at 8:30 p.m.). A small glass costs $2.20; a large glass that's big enough for two costs $4.40.

6:45 P.M. KINMEN KAOLIANG LIQUOR

If you can make it in time, run by the Kinmen Kaoliang Liquor store, a short walk from the Memorial Hall plaza's southwest corner (No. 3, Roosevelt Rd., Section 1; open to 7 p.m. weekdays and Saturdays).

Sample the shop's famous Taiwanese sorghum liquor -- a fiery concoction brewed on Kinmen (also known as Quemoy, a small island in the Taiwan Strait controlled by Taiwan) -- and take a gift bottle with you. There's a variety of sizes and strengths -- choose between 28-, 30-, 38- and 58-proof. You can taste a few for free before you decide, but most people opt for the high-test 58-proof variety ($15.60 for a 750-milliliter bottle).

Assuming you can still fit in a taxi, hop in one here to return to your hotel.

Original site

Scotland in Taiwan

Can Taiwan produce a world-class tipple?

Global Post, January 5, 2010

ILAN, Taiwan — Six thousand miles from Scotland's chill, one bold company is attempting what some consider the impossible: Producing a top-shelf, 100 percent distilled- and aged-in-Taiwan single-malt whiskey.

After the success of Japanese whiskies, Taiwan is hoping to follow in its Asian cousin's footsteps and prove that it too can produce a world-class tipple.

It's called "Kavalan," named after an aboriginal tribe that once roamed this misty, mountainous part of Taiwan's coast. And it already has plenty of critics.

It's too expensive, gripe the naysayers. Locals will never go for it. And Taiwan's climate is all wrong.

Ryan Lin, a project manager at Synovate Taiwan, said Taiwanese choose whiskies to "show status" and would shun local products in favor of Johnny Walker, Macallan and the like.

"This is the key driver," said Lin. "Normally Taiwanese people who drink whiskey will choose a very famous brand, to show their taste. So few people will choose Taiwanese whiskey."

Taiwan's drinking habits have changed as it's gotten richer, with many here increasingly consuming Western spirits. Cognac was all the rage in the 1990s, followed by single-malt whiskeys.

Market researcher TNS Taiwan says whiskey is now the second-most popular category of spirits in Taiwan. Twelve percent of those surveyed had imbibed whiskey in the previous three months, compared to 12.4 percent who drank Chinese spirits, including sorghum-based kaoliang and "yellow spirits" or huangjiu.

Andrew Do, an associate director at TNS Taiwan, said that Taiwan's whiskey drinkers would balk at Kavalan's price tag, about $60 per bottle. "For a non-aged whiskey, to me, that's kind of ridiculous," said Do. "For that price you can buy a really good Scotch, even a single-malt Scotch."

Single-malt whiskey snobs insist a product must be aged at least three years to be worthy of consumption.

But during a tour of Kavalan's distillery, blender Ian Chang defended his product against that and other criticisms. Taiwan's climate is an average of 25 degrees (Fahrenheit) warmer than Scotland's, said Chang.

"The hotter climate means you can make a good whiskey in a shorter time," he said. "To smell like Scotch and taste like Scotch, it takes only two to three years in Taiwan."

But he acknowledged that "it will take time for consumers to understand." He's also doing road shows in China — a key target market — to better educate consumers there.

Chang said Kavalan is well-positioned to ride the trend of more quickly-aged whiskies, made fast to meet surging demand in emerging markets such as China, Brazil and Russia.

Ben Chuang, editor of the Chinese-language Wine & Spirits Digest, is bullish on Kavalan's chances in China.

"The Chinese mainland is so near, so if they need whiskey quickly and easily, Taiwan whiskey is the best choice," said Huang. "And in China, they don't know much about whiskey. So Kavalan has a very, very big opportunity."

But he also said it was too expensive for Taiwanese.

Richard Ma, a spokesman for the King Car Group, which makes Kavalan, suggested that the company may offer lower-priced whiskeys in the future. But he said the high price reflected the company's faith in its product.

"We're in this for the long term — not just five or ten years, but 100," said Ma. "By insisting in our belief in our whiskey, consumers will eventually realize it's worth it."

King Car began building the distillery in 2005, just three years after Taiwan's government opened the domestic spirits market to private companies. It began distilling in March 2006, and sold its first bottles a year ago.

Chang, the blender, said Kavalan is specially tweaked for Taiwanese tastes. While Westerners prefer a dry, "not so sweet" taste, Taiwanese like an oily, smooth texture with some sweetness, he said. Kavalan is chemically engineered to boast hints of mango and green apple, with a cinnamon note that's "unique to Taiwan whiskey," said Chang.

Kavalan gets its malt barley from Scotland, because Taiwan is too humid to grow and dry it. The water comes from a natural underground spring 200 feet below the distillery.

Kavalan's warehouses boast 30,000 barrels for aging. About 40 percent are recycled, oak Kentucky bourbon barrels, preferred to European oak barrels because they have fewer tannins, said Chang. (More tannins makes for a more bitter, drier whiskey).

Chang said Kavalan already picked up some awards, and is shooting for two gold medals at the International Wine and Spirit Competition in London in July.

"This is still early days for Kavalan — we have a long way to go," said Chang. "But we want to convince Taiwan consumers that whiskey doesn't have to be foreign to be good."

"Taiwan can make a good whiskey. We just need to have a little faith and confidence in ourselves."

Original site

Oodles of noodles

In Taiwan, it's all about the beef noodle soup. Here's how to find the perfect bowl.

Global Post, December 6, 2009

TAIPEI, Taiwan — Think beef noodle soup is just some chunks of meat sprinkled over noodles in broth?

Think again. Every foodie in Taiwan has an opinion on what makes for great beef noodle soup — and where the best can be slurped up.

Now, Taipei City has entered the fray with what it calls its unofficial "Michelin Guide" to the city's beef noodle joints. They also solicited locals' opinion on a website, and sponsored an "Iron Chef"-style cooking contest to decide who's the best beef noodle chef of them all.

It's all part of the city' plan to promote Taipei as the world's "Beef Noodle Soup" capital.

"Taiwan is well-known for its food, so we wanted to present this special item to show the world Taiwan's famous beef noodles," explained Chen Hsiu-hua, from the city's commercial office. She estimated there are up to 80 beef noodle joints in Taipei alone.

Beef noodle soup is part of Taiwan's unique culinary heritage. Before the 1940s, Taiwanese didn't eat much beef. Plow-pulling water buffalo were farmers' best friends, and too important to eat. Other beef was too expensive.

That changed when Chiang Kai-shek's Kuomintang fled here in the 1940s, after losing China's civil war to the communists. The KMT, which included much of China's upper class, brought with them master chefs from all over China. One of the dishes they brought was beef noodle soup, a northeast China specialty.

Male Taiwanese developed a taste for the dish while serving mandatory military service, explained Mr. Lin, a 60-something Taipei cabdriver and beef noodle soup fan. It became popular on military bases.

China-born chefs refined the dish in exile and created new varieties to appeal to customers. And as Taiwanese living standards rose rapidly in the 1970s and 1980s, beef became more affordable.

Chef Hong Tsai-chan, chairman of Taiwan's beef noodle association, has made beef noodle soup for more than 20 years. In an interview at one of his shops, he broke down the three essential parts of the dish.

"Choosing the meat is very important," he said. For his standard "hong shao" ("red-cooked," or cooked with soy sauce) beef noodle dish, he uses Australian beef for the big chunks, and Taiwan beef for the skinny strips.

He stews the big chunks for two hours, and roasts the thin strips in a few seconds.

"The noodles should be thick and very chewy," he continued. "Now comes the soup. We make soup with natural vegetables and fruits, cabbage, chives, carrots and white radish. Then we add some Chinese medicine — just a little bit, to stew, so that the smell will be good."

Beef noodle soup connoisseur Chang Jia-wei, 30, emphasized that the soup is the key ingredient.

"It has to smell good enough to stimulate you to want to eat," said Chang. "For many shops, the ingredients of their soup are a business secret."

Most chefs throw in star anise, a fruit often used as a spice in Chinese cooking, he said.

Chang explained the finer points of a good beef noodle soup at Niu Ga Ting, a recently opened restaurant. He discovered this shop the old-fashioned way. One day he rode by on his scooter, smelled the shop's fragrant broth, and simply had to stop for a bite.

He insists on thick noodles, which better soak up the broth. But he said that some Taiwanese, especially women, now prefer less oily "ximian" (vermicelli-like thin noodles).

Taipei's "Michelin Guide" to beef noodles was a serious undertaking. Twelve "pioneers," including Chang, canvassed the city for out-of-the way beef noodle joints. Then 32 judges fanned out in small groups across the city's shops. Netizens were also asked their opinion in an online poll.

The judges were tough — no restaurant passed muster for the elusive "five-star" rating. But several managed to nab four stars.

Then, on Nov. 22, Taipei's best beef noodle chefs gathered across from City Hall for a cook-off. Beside a stage with gyrating "spicy girls" and break-dancers, the chefs chopped, stewed and boiled away for the top prize in one of three categories — soy sauce broth, clear broth and "creative" beef noodle soup.

The winner of the soy sauce broth category, the most classic version of the dish, was a chef from Kaohsiung, Taiwan's second city.

At the awards ceremony, the head judge generously complemented all the chefs. "Actually, all of you have improved greatly since last year," he said. "The difference between the best beef noodle soups was only slight."

Can Taiwan's famous beef noodle soup catch on beyond its shores? Perhaps, but there's one small logistical hurdle: you've got to be handy with the chopsticks and ladle to easily eat it.

"That's why it's more likely to be popular with Japanese than with Americans or Europeans," said Chang, the connoisseur.

IF YOU GO:

Mentioned in this article:

Master Hong's Noodle Store. No 72, Jianguo North Road Section 2, Taipei. 02-2500-6850

Niu Ga Tang. No. 134-2, Kunming St., Taipei. 02-2331-0397

Top-rated restaurants in Taipei's 2009 Beef Noodle Soup Guidebook:

Seventy-two Beef Noodle Soup. No. 188, Jianguo South Road Section 1. 02-2752-5970

Immediate Knife-cut Beef Noodles. No. 116-3, Yanping North Road Section 3. 02-2598-0212

Old Sung's True, Good and Beautiful Beef Noodles. No. 17, Lane 137 Yanji Street. 02-2377-8866

Original site

Taiwan's theme joints

Waiter, there's a toilet in my soup.

The rising popularity of themed restaurants in Taiwan

By Jonathan Adams, Global Post, February 21, 2009

TAIPEI — Taiwanese embrace new fads with alarming speed — and often drop them just as quickly. "Sea-salt" coffee is but one recent example.

Along with this love of novelty comes a propensity for cheesy theme restaurants. The latest: a "jumbo jet" restaurant modeled after the inside of an Airbus 380. Naturally, "stewardesses" bring your food.

The A380 In-flight Kitchen boasts airplane cabin decor, and various other touches from dining in the sky. At 7 every evening there's an "in-flight announcement," after which free soda is passed out.

Meals are served on custom plates resembling airplane trays, and the kids' set meal comes on a plate shaped like a space shuttle. The restaurant boasts a "first class" section in back, with larger spaces for big groups and parties. In addition to the regular service, the waitress rolls around a beverage cart loaded with beer, coffee and juice.

One "stewardess," who gave only her first name, Melinda, actually worked as a real-life flight attendent for five years on China Airlines. She says the restaurant has been packing customers in lately due to massive media exposure, including from Japanese TV. (The Japanese hold their own in the offbeat-theme-restaurant department, as this article shows.)

Customers' only disappointment so far, Melinda, says is that the "overhead luggage compartments" are only decoration. "They'll say to me, 'Can I put my luggage in the overhead bin?' And I have to tell them, 'No, sorry, you can't open that.'"

Asked why theme restaurants are so popular with Taiwanese, assistant manager Emily Wu said, "Taiwanese always like something fresh. When they see it they want to go try it."

The jet restaurant joins several other long-standing theme joints on the island. Taiwan boasts race-car theme restaurants, a "hospital" restaurant and "toilet" restaurants, where food is served in mini-commodes and bathtubs.


At the DS hospital theme restaurant, a stethoscope-wielding, doctors' coat-clad hostess greets guests and takes reservations. Waitresses in nurse uniforms serve cocktails to your glass from an old-fashioned glass IV bottle or (for shots) test-tubes. The restaurant decor features X-rays on the wall, wheelchairs, crutches and an "emergency room" (the bathroom).

On Thursday night, diners Chen Ching-yan and his two female co-workers said their favorite things about the restaurant were the IV-bottle drink service and the pretty nurses. "Our working hours can be really stressful, so we like coming to a restaurant like this to unwind," said one of Chen's co-workers.

Teens and college students are the target market for one of Taiwan's most successful theme restaurant chains, Modern Toilet. Here, customers sit on toilets and eat on covered washbasins. The most popular dishes are chocolate ice cream or curry chicken, served in a mini-toilet. Why?

"It looks like poo-poo," explained Jary Wei, assistant manager at the chain's Taipei branch. "The customers think it's funny."

There are nine Modern Toilet joints island-wide, though Wei says some of those may close due to the current recession. "It's really affected our business," said Wei.

Taiwan's government last week reported a stunning 8.36 percent gross domestic product drop in the last quarter of 2008 — the largest drop since the government began compiling statistics in 1961 — and now forecasts the island's economy will contract an additional 3 percent for the full year in 2009.

Taiwan's consumers, like their counterparts in the U.S., have cut back in today's tough times. For most, ice cream spooned into toilet bowls probably doesn't qualify as essential spending.

But the bad economy may not be as big a threat to such restaurants as the fickle taste of Taiwanese diners.

Take Taipei's much-hyped "prison" restaurant. It featured dining in mock jail cells, and even wall photos of Nazi concentration camps, which were taken down after a public outcry. But the restaurant closed a couple years ago, say the site's current tenants. In its place is a humble pasta joint.

Like the island's short-lived pop stars, Taiwan's latest theme restaurant may turn out to be only the flavor of the month.


Original site

Eating China's treasures

Exterior of Silks Palace restaurant, Taipei, Taiwan

A Palette for the Palate

A restaurant near Taipei's National Palace Museum serves works of art that are more than metaphorical.

Jonathan Adams
NEWSWEEK magazine, Aug 2, 2008

Imagine if the greatest works from the Chinese imperial collection of art became ... edible.

That's the basic concept behind the new Silks Palace restaurant in Taipei. It opened in late June next to the National Palace Museum, which holds what is widely regarded as the world's finest collection of traditional Chinese art. The museum's prized sculpture, ceramics and artifacts come from the imperial collection of Beijing's Forbidden City, the best of which the Kuomintang took with them to Taiwan when the communists drove them off the mainland in 1949.

Silks Palace pays homage to that collection, but with a decidedly contemporary twist. Taiwan's Formosa International Hotels Corp. won the bid to run the government-owned restaurant until at least 2030, with a concept designed by Taiwan's Yao Ren-shi and Japan's Yukie Hashimoto. Then Formosa's army of chefs let their imaginations run wild. The result is a $14.8 million epicure's delight whose design and dishes offer a whimsical take on famous Chinese art and artifacts.

The exterior of the five-floor building is a boldly modern counterpoint to the imperial-style museum next door. It is covered in glass with a webbed pattern meant to evoke the cracks in Song-dynasty-era (A.D. 960–1279) ceramics. At night, the building is illuminated like a futuristic Chinese lantern. Interior designer Hashimoto continues the cracked-ceramics theme, and gives Chinese artifacts a hip but restrained twist.

Four glass-enclosed pillars inspired by the Tsung tubes used in Neolithic-era Chinese religious rituals extend the height of the two-story atrium. The first floor features an à la carte dining area with soft illumination from lamps shaped like Tsung-chou bells of the late Western Chou period (about 1100–771 B.C.). The 10 VIP rooms on the second floor are named after Chinese artists, and decorated with backlit paper prints of classic works from the museum collection. A banquet area on the third floor features sci-fi chandeliers with crystal bulbs illuminated by LEDs.

The cuisine is mostly Cantonese style, with flavors from other Chinese regions. Diners can order à la carte, or choose from wildly creative set menus inspired by the museum collection.

Three signature dishes imitate the most famous of the museum's masterpieces—two of which are actually renditions of food. A small, poached bok choy with mustard is presented to look exactly like the famed "Jadeite Cabbage With Insects," a piece of carved jade that was the dowry of a Qing-dynasty concubine. On the plate, a tiny shrimp takes the place of the carefully sculpted katydid on the original. A lovingly marinated chunk of pork mimics another masterpiece, the museum's carved agate imitation pork slice, "Meat-Shaped Stone."

And a tiered rack with a sampling of desserts—one of the restaurant's best-selling items—is inspired by a Qing-era emperor's curio box.

There are plenty of other delights. The goose comes in a wrap with a single swipe of Peking duck sauce, representing a broad stroke from Chinese calligraphy. The museum's take on the classic Fujian stew "Buddha Jumps Over the Wall" comes in a white bowl shaped like a classic three-legged "ding" cauldron from the Warring States period (about 475–221 B.C.). And the chefs carve a larger ding from ice to hold the fruit course at the end.

Even the serving plates—which evoke ancient Chinese coins from the collection—are an inspired nod to China's heritage. It gives a whole new meaning to the concept of a museum restaurant.

Original site

Hooked on Taiwan's food

Japanese foodies take Taipei

Jonathan Adams

Newsweek Japan, July 2006

(untranslated draft)

Kuniko Mita misses the snow of Nagano. Before her engineer husband came to Taiwan four years ago to work on the island’s high-speed rail project, the two would drive out of Yokohama every weekend, heading for the great outdoors. But in Taipei, where they now live, they’ve no car -- and this subtropical city cannot offer snow.

Luckily, in place of outdoor activities they’ve a new passion: food. The Mita’s have become smitten with the island’s culinary delights -- show-cased in Ang Lee’s 1994 film `Eat Drink Man Woman`. Kuniko carries a notebook with a wish list of restaurants to visit, and 43-year-old Kosuke writes a blog to record their gastronomical adventures. Says Kuniko: “on weekends in Japan, we went camping and skiing. Here, our sport is eating.”

At one of their favorite restaurants, Jiu Fan Ken (Changan Rd. East, Section 2, #172, 2F), the two display their eating skills while knocking back Taiwan Beer served in small bowls. The scrumptious meal includes Taiwanese specialties: ton rou, a chunk of fatty pork cooked to custard-like consistency, wu wei yu, crispy fish in mild red sauce, and abalone soup, bao yu gao zhan. “In Japan, we eat abalone raw,” notes Mita. “Here they dry it first, and then soak it in water to make it softer.”

Finishing their soup, they are careful not to slurp — a Japanese habit considered rude in Taiwan. It’s one of the small cultural differences that took getting used to. Another was the pedestrian’s slow pace. But that dawdling reflects a laid-back attitude that’s been easy to adopt. Rents are cheaper than Japan and apartments typically more spacious -- and although Taipei is generally safe, the Mitas live in a building with 24-hour security for extra peace of mind. Food isn’t their only recreational pursuit: Kuniko has made Taiwanese friends while studying kiko, a martial art similar to taichi, and Chinese meditation. And on weekends, the two escape the noise of the scooter-mad city and head for their favorite hot springs resort -- Wulai, in mountains just south of the city.

Now, with the rail line due to be completed later this year, they know they will miss Taipei – especially, its food. But at least returning home will be easier on their waistlines. “We’ve both gained so much weight,” says Kuniko with a laugh. “The clothes we wore before don’t fit anymore.”

The fine culinary traditions of this mountain-ringed metropolis of 2.6 million go back hundreds of years. When the Kuomintang fled to Taiwan from China in the 1940s, some of China’s best chefs came too. But there are plenty of local specialties, often found in Taipei’s cheap night markets. Though the city boasts trendy, ultra-modern malls with food courts, islanders still love to crowd cheek-by-jowl into narrow alleys for a late-night snack, amid the clatter of steaming, brightly lit food stands and the pungent aroma of a Taiwanese favourite: stinky tofu.

Takahiko Ishikawa fell for Taiwanese food on a business trip ten years ago. The 54-year-old Tokyo native, now president of Taiwan Toshiba International Procurement Corp, wandered into the city’s Shihlin night market—and became hooked forever on shui jian bao (fried dumplings). “I was surprised at how good they were,” he says. “We don’t have this kind of dumpling in Japan—just steamed.” Ishikawa’s enthusiasm led to a Taiwanese cookery class to learn the secret. How are his dumplings? “Sometimes they’re OK, sometimes they’re no good,” he says ruefully. It’s obviously easier to consume the local specialities than create them.

Taipei’s relatively small size (the central part of the city covers just about 67 square kilometers) makes it easy for Ishikawa to pop into his favorite food spots. And if he misses good ramen noodles, he’s more than compensated by the island’s oyster noodles -- oamisua. Taipei’s vibrant food culture – as well as regular golf outings – make it easier for Ishikawa to live alone in Taipei; his wife and family are back in Tokyo. He even muses about opening a Taiwanese-style restaurant when he retires in Japan.

Ryotaka Izawa has similar ambitions—and he’s in Taipei to chase his dream. The 27-year-old from Nikko is learning to make Shanghainese food at Taipei’s ritzy Grand Formosa Regent Hotel. Why isn’t he in studying in Shanghai? “In China, [some] people don’t like Japanese because of the historical background,” said Izawa. “But Taiwanese like Japanese people and culture—it’s easy to live here.” His only complaint is different attitudes toward cleanliness: He was shocked when Taiwanese friends walked, in their shoes, on a bathmat in his apartment. Says Izawa: “In Japan, this doesn’t happen.”

But cultural clashes are rare, and Izawa has thrown himself into his busy new life: Chinese classes in the mornings, the hotel in the afternoon and evenings. Right now, he’s doing prep work and learning to use the industrial-sized steamers. And on days off he likes to take Taiwanese friends out to dinner – drunken chicken is a favorite dish. When he’s mastered Shanghai-style cooking, Izawa will return to Nikko and add that regional flavor to his father’s Cantonese restaurant. Eventually, he hopes to take over the business. So what does his dad think of Izawa’s adventure? “He said, gambare.” And that’s exactly what his son is doing.