Taiwan Day 9: Childhood Memories of Stewed Pork Rice / 懷念三元號圓環老店 (Taipei: Datong District / 台北市: 大同區)

When my aunt finally had some time to hang out, I asked her to bring me somewhere that she and my dad used to eat when they were younger.  She led me to a restaurant that used to occupy a space within the central ring of shops at the intersection of Chongqing North Road (重慶北路), Nanjing West Road (南京西路) and Tianshui Road (天水路).  It has relocated just off the roundabout (圓環) due to the municipal government's mandated renovations, which many of the older generation locals in the area gripe about.  How often have you heard the elders mention that things just aren't the way they used to be?

The location may not be the same, but the flavors of its stewed pork rice (滷肉飯) have remained constant.  The stewed pork rice is old school here.  It is easy to see.  The meat is minced, ground, or chopped into bits and pieces and stewed in a sauce of soy and sugar.  When it is spooned atop the rice, it seeps into any space that it finds.  It is fully incorporated.  The meat is nowhere close to the glossy chunks or gleaming cubes of pork belly that are found in restaurants elsewhere.  The pork used here is lean ground meat.  It is far from greasy, but still... this is a hot mess.  It is saucy; it is soupy.  It is home style.  It is the way my dad, my aunts and uncles ate when they were little.  It is delicious.

It is hard not to imagine the thoughts, goals, and ambitions that ran through my father and his siblings' minds when eating a bowl of this messy, saucy pork rice.  Back then there was silence during meal time for my parents.  Not only was the pork stewing away in the pot, but the burrowed desires of a better life were stewing away in their heads as well.  Even to this day it is not easy for the elder generation of Taiwanese to express or communicate their emotions explicitly.

The only time a hint of their childhood memories come to light is when my dad makes this saucy, sliced garlic pork (蒜泥白肉).  This is another dish that elicits family history whether it is happy or painful.  For me, I only know this dish when cooked in our home kitchen in America, but my dad his siblings know of this dish the way that I experienced it.  The thin cuts of blanched pork are laid out on a platter before being drenched in sweet soy sauce paste, minced garlic, and a mound of freshly shredded ginger.  The raw biting garlic will undoubtedly leave a lasting taste on your tongue for a while... much like the memories of eating at the roundabout shops have left for the Lin family.

If this strangely emo post has not already turned the glories of pork upside down for you, continue reading... there's more! Not everyone is fond of their childhood memories, and not everyone appreciates the lingering garlic flavor on their tongue.  Fortunately, there is a pork spare rib soup (排骨湯) available to cleanse your palate and wash away bad memories.  The deep fried pieces of spare rib sink down deep into the depths of the soup, adding flavor and substance to the mild broth brewed from daikon.  A hearty yet mild flavor, the broth is substantial enough to rinse away any flashbacks of which you are not fond but just subtle enough to remind you that there were no regrets.

Oh, wow, that was a cliff of a conclusion.  Until next time, let's dream of getting S.O.F.A.T.

Read the post on 三元號 by TaiwanWalker in Chinese here.

三元號 (San Yuán Haò)
台北市大同區重慶北路二段11號
No. 11, Chongqing North Rd., Section 2, Datong District, Taipei City 

ML - 20130708

Post 116: Portland - Whiskey, Beer, and Drinking Vinegar at Whiskey Soda Lounge (Portland: Southeast/Richmond/Clinton)

While we waited for the most authentic, non-authentic Thai food at Pok Pok, our hostess recommended that we go across the street to Whiskey Soda Lounge, a relaxing bar of sorts that is also part of the Pok Pok restaurant family.  Whiskey Soda Lounge offers a wide variety of beverages.  There are plenty of international beers, particular from Asia.  The menu also includes Taiwan Beer, which I was very surprised to see at a modern whiskey lounge in Oregon of all places.  There are also drinking vinegars, which is just what it sounds like... a diluted form of vinegar consumed for its supposed health benefits.

There are also whiskeys from around the world... from countries that are not typical whiskey producing countries such as America, Ireland, and Scotland.  I ordered the Khing & I.  It was made with Mekhong, known as a Thai whiskey, combined with lime and house made ginger syrup.  The ginger was not biting but was strong enough to inject a state of rejuvenation before dinner.  The lime cleansed my palate, and of course, the whiskey induced a euphoric sense of vacation.

We also tried the Lord Bergamot among other cocktails, but before we knew it, it was time to cross the street again back to Pok Pok for dinner.  I liked that the menu includes a message telling its guests to be careful crossing the street.  From what I observed, though, Portland drivers seem to stop for all pedestrians and slow down around cyclists.  It must be the clean air and water here.

Until our next meal, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20120914

Taiwan - Din Tai Fung Black Truffle Juicy Pork Dumplings / 鼎泰豐松露小籠包 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北市: 大安區)

Being a food tour guide that specializes in Taiwanese dumplings in Arcadia means that I get to eat the juicy pork dumplings (xiaolongbao / 小籠包) from Din Tai Fung (鼎泰豐) virtually every weekend while on tour.  Guests on tour often ask me if there is anything different between the Din Tai Fung dumpling house in Arcadia and the original Din Tai Fung restaurant in Taipei.  The first thing that I say since my return from Taipei is that the DTF in Taipei is the only store (as of now) with black truffle juicy pork dumplings (松露小籠包).

These black truffle xiaolongbao come five per long, or five dumplings per bamboo steamer.  Each steamer of five delicately wrapped dumplings are 450 NTD, which amounts to roughly 15 USD.  If there are five dumplings per steamer, and each steamer is 15 dollars, then each bite-sized dumpling is just about three American dollars each.  Those are some expensive dumplings.  They had better be worth it.

I can now tell you from personal experience that three dollars per dumpling is worth every bite.  From the moment the server delivers the dainty delights, you know they're special.  The server instructs not to douse these dumplings in the black vinegar that is typically used as a dipping sauce for the xiaolongbao.  Heaven forbid that we use soy sauce on them too.  Instead, the server advises to take a sip of hot tea in order to cleanse the palate.  Wash away any remnant of cucumber or seaweed appetizer that may have lingered behind.  Just one bite, he says... and beware... they're hot!



In this one bite, the subtle flavors of buttery truffle oil permeate through the tender yet firm pork and travel up through your nostrils while hitting every single pleasure sensing nerve within your oral and nasal cavities.  If you go against what the server advises and take just a mere half bite instead, you would know that the little black specks in the dumpling are causing this sensory overload in your mouth.  And you would definitely know that these little black specks are not black pepper.  They are the shaved black truffle pieces, and they are the reason why you are charging this meal to your credit card.

If you are lucky you might spot a large shaving of black truffle within one of the five dumplings.  And it might look like the dumpling is sticking its tongue out at those who have not yet experienced the indulgent taste of steamed black truffle juicy pork dumplings.  It might.

Let's face it though.  Even though the black truffle juicy pork dumplings make you feel like the caviar consuming first class passengers on the Titanic, you can only afford perhaps two steamers of those suckers before you realize you're still going to go home hungry.  Well, if you're here for dumplings, you have to settle on the house specialty of regular juicy pork dumplings.  These come ten per long at a much affordable price, although pricey for Taiwanese standards.  And of course, the regular xiaolongbao can be dipped into the black vinegar.  The vinegar's tangy taste contrasts the dumpling's overall savory flavor to bring out the sweetness for the pork.  And all I can taste inside the dumpling is succulent pork soup.  No buttery truffle? How boring.

In case some readers aren't able to tell, that's a speckle of sarcasm.  The house specialty is an absolutely unparalleled steamed pork dumpling.  However, I will tell you I would have much rather had finished all the regular xiaolongbao before moving onto to the fancy flavors of its truffled cousin.  An anti-climatic meal is slightly disheartening.

But I must give credit to Din Tai Fung for putting this winning addition on the menu.  A product that has been dug up by French pigs and then later infused into fresh Taiwanese pig? Well, that's a somewhat cannibalistic double pork whammy! Did they get this idea from the company mascot, a seemingly happy xiaolongbao that courageously serves up a steamer of ten miniature versions of itself? What will they think of next?

Before that question gets answered, though, do yourself a favor and drop by the original Din Tai Fung store on Xinyi Road in Taipei.  And I would suggest you hurry.  Because oolong-milktea loves his Din Tai Fung, and he loves his truffle.  And oh, he can eat up a storm.  If he gets there before you do, there's a high chance you're going home hungry.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Din Tai Fung (鼎泰豐)

台北市大安區信義路二段194號, 永康街口
Taipei City, Da An District, Xinyi Road, Section 2, No. 194

Intersection of Yong Kang St.

ML - 20110908

Post 39.2: Americanized Taiwanese - Three Cup Chicken Lettuce Wraps

For the international potluck our goal was to bring a dish that represented our culture.  I brainstormed for days... debating whether to bring something substantial like dumplings, a simple snack like Taiwanese sausages, or maybe even some sweets like boba or mochi.  I even ventured into the stereotypical fried rice or chow mein, but I decided that I must show my co-workers something truly Taiwanese.

I made a long list of Taiwanese foods that included: Taiwanese-style tamales (肉粽), braised pork rice (魯肉飯), and even oyster pancakes (蚵仔煎).  I crossed items off the list one by one, eliminating them due to pork or seafood content, level of spiciness, and of course, ease of preparation.  And when I put the final strike through the second to last item, three cup chicken was the dish that was left.  Three cup chicken is about as authentic Taiwanese as it gets... and what could be easier than dumping wet and dry ingredients together into one pot, and letting it simmer until fully cooked?

What are the essential ingredients?

Thai basil, whole cloves of garlic and large chips of fresh ginger.

So three cup chicken is three cups of what?

One cup each of soy sauce, rice wine and sesame oil... simmered down to the end.

But as authentic as three cup chicken is... I still ran into a few ease-of-eating problems.

The chicken that's typically used still has a lot of bones running throughout the chicken... and that's not easy to eat at a potluck.  So I substituted bone-in, skin-on chicken with boneless, skinless chicken breast (it's healthier too), and diced them into cubes.

And I thought that lugging a big pot of white rice to work was not a good idea... so I subbed the rice for lettuce! Lettuce wrapped three cup chicken, I thought, would be a creative way to eat something very traditional... and it might get my foot in the door with my co-workers who are not as familiar with traditional Taiwanese cuisine.  (Lettuce wraps are one thing I can thank P.F. Chang's for... but the gratitude stops there.)

I subbed water for the rice wine just in case the alcohol didn't fully cook off, but it made the chicken a bit tougher than how it's supposed to be.  And using diced cubes of chicken breast rather than chunks of bone-in, skin-on chicken probably dried out the chicken a bit more than I would have liked.  The chicken wasn't tender, but it wasn't cardboard... and it wasn't anything a bit of minced water chestnuts (for crunch and moisture), green onion (for freshness), or Sriracha (for kick) couldn't take care of.

Success? For the first time making something my ah ma is pro at... yes, it was a success.

The only failure was for not taking a picture of the lettuce wrap itself.  It was topped off with the water chestnuts, toasted sesame seeds, slivers of fresh green onions, and a swirl of Sriracha.  It was beautiful.  What a fail.

Always take pictures before you eat!

Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20101104/20101028

Post 26.12: Vancouver - Day 3 (Dinner/Post-dinner)

If there's one thing I miss about Taiwan, it's strolling through the night market.  Alright, it's never that easy to stroll through a night market in Taipei... getting stuck and possibly sandwiched is more like it.  But it's the energy of the night that I miss.  There is literally a buzz in the air... if not from the chatter of conversation in the local language then from the molecules flowing through the numerous neon tubes that bring light and warmth to the atmosphere.  Oh, Shilin, how I wish you weren't a 14-hour flight away...

Well, I was in luck because Vancouver has its very own annual summer night market.  And I happened to be right in the midst of the commotion.  I can't believe I even told Amanda that it was alright if we never made it to the night market.  I'm really glad she responded with, "Man, if people found out that I didn't take you to the night market..."

I'm not sure if she ever finished that sentence or if I tuned it out because I didn't want to know the consequences. Either way, I'm glad I made it to the craziness that was the night market. (Thanks, Amanda.) Stands stood next to stand... it was hard to see the gap where one stand ended and the next began. Endless rows of stands served snacks and traditional delicacies from all over the Asian continent... I was enthused to see the different foods represented from Taiwan, Hong Kong, China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines...

Of course, my stomach had a field day.  We started off with a crepe that was filled with strawberries, Nutella, vanilla ice cream, and a good helping of whipped cream.





Watching the crepe master make it was a bit of fun in itself.  The crepe creator solidified the crepe batter, laid the strawberries out one by one, drizzled chocolate syrup, dropped vanilla ice cream, and folded the crepe all in less than five minutes.



Right next to the crepe stand was a skewer stand that offered everything from grilled lamb skewers to barbecued ice cream on a stick.  Whoooa... BBQ ice cream? Curious much? I asked the cashier what exactly BBQ ice cream was, and she replied, "Look.  Picture." 

Hah.  I guess her answer meant that it was time to fully satisfy our sweet tooths.



It was so obvious which order was ours.  There were just three little spheres of ice cream smoking next to a dozen or so lamb skewers on the grill.  The poor little ice cream balls looked so out of place that I couldn't stop laughing.



They topped it off by drizzling the ice cream with a bit of condensed milk and Hershey's chocolate syrup.  One bite, and Ian exclaimed, "Man! These are cream puffs!"

Oh, and how right he was.  They really tasted simply like frozen cream puffs that had a smoky essence.  I was disappointed by the advertising... but delighted by what I tasted.



My sweet tooth was satisfied... overly so.  I wanted just some plain water to get the potential tooth decay taste out of my mouth, but I came across a Japanese stand with a fresh ginger cooler.  It was sweet but sharp and biting at the same time... all the characteristics of fresh, raw ginger... and none of the characteristics of ginger ale.  Amanda took a sip of it, and she made the same face that a child would make upon tasting chopped liver for the first time.  I don't think either of us appreciated the little bits and pieces of fresh ginger floating around inside the drink.  Perhaps onto something else...?

At the same stand I ordered the Japanese-style burger with an extra helping of kimchi in the middle.  At that time I think I was attempting to fill my void of Taiwan's Mos Burger, a hamburger chain that specializes in Japanese-style hamburgers, many of which have sticky rice in place of the typical bread bun.  Each time I took a bite, the pressure from the chomp squeezed the center of the burger, which caused teriyaki sauce to oooooze out of the middle... it dripped onto the rice bun... the napkin... my hand... mmmmm...



We got some Japanese takoyaki too.  Half a dozen spheres of octopus were covered with Japanese mayonnaise, okonomiyaki sauce, seaweed confetti, and of course, the flakes of bonito that wisp with the heat of the takoyaki.  I love watching the bonito flakes writhe in the heat, especially on okonomiyaki.

We saved the one item we were all waiting for last. Although we went straight for the Hong Kong style egg waffles when we first walked into the night market, the line was so long that we decided to come back later. And even when we returned, the line was just as long... the only difference was that our craving for the waffle increased ten-fold.

I snuck a little peak behind the stand's plastic curtains to see the waffle machines at full capacity.  Each time the waffle iron clamped down to close, the batter would seep out and leave a trail of batter droplets on the iron.  After hundreds of times of closing the waffle iron, more and more trails of batter accumulated onto the iron's surface, leaving an unconsumed little hill of semi-cooked waffle behind.

After waiting for what only seemed like an eternity, we picked up our double order of original egg flavored waffle and chocolate flavored waffle. And I'll be the first one to say... it was worth the wait. I was already stuffed to the brim with crepe, ice cream, ginger water, rice and meat, and takoyaki, but it was so hard to stay away from these waffles. Each sphere (we had a lot of spherical-shaped food at the night market) was crispy and warm... and I tore each section off one at a time and popped each one. With each bite I broke the crust and allowed the steam to escape (the waffles are hallow) from the waffle's insides to the insides of my mouth. Ooooh... it's like a reminder that the waffles just came right off the iron. FRESH. That waffle was FRESH.



Mmmm... fresh waffle.  Fresh crepe.  Fresh okonomiyaki.  Fresh everything.  I inhaled a bit of faux Taiwanese atmosphere while inhaling carbs galore from around the world.  Man, this night market was amazing-awesome.  That's one thing I'll say that has USA beat.  Night markets in Taipei, Keelung, and Kaohsiung? Oh yeah, there are plenty.  Night markets in LA? You'd think there would be.  But night markets in Vancouver? I didn't think so, but I'm sure as hell glad that there are.  (Take out the horrid manure scent from the Home Depot across the street, and you've got an even better night market.)



Hey SoCal, I say we have some night markets at the Pomona Fairgrounds, OC Fair, and Del Mar Fair whenever the fairs aren't around.

Next post: The most expensive poutine ever