Post 70: Taipei - Night Owls Congregate at the Porridge Shop (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

While the congee from Hong Kong style dim sum houses are typically served in the morning, the Taiwanese rice porridge with chunks of sweet potatoes are served around the clock.  Both types of rice based soup, though, are used to wake people up.  The Taiwanese porridge works best as a 3 a.m. slap of sobriety and the Hong Kong congee works best as a hangover help at noon the next morning.

"You tried to drink her under the table or something?"

The server glances over at my friend as she brings a pot of piping hot porridge over to the table.  My friend has collapsed on the dining table... whether in complete exhaustion or in complete intoxication, I'm not quite sure... I'm feeling a combination of exhausted and intoxicated myself... attributed to a night of clubbing in Taipei.  Either way, she's about to miss out on some soul warming rice porridge and my trash talking of her inability to conquer the night's liquor.

"No, she tried to drink me under the table," I reply.  "And that," I point to the slumber of hair, makeup, and jewelry that is my friend, "is what happened.  Huo gai."

Huo gai is a term that is tough to translate.  In this instance it might mean that my friend's state of unconsciousness is completely deserved.  In a sense, it's karma... karma for nudging me towards more shots of tequila.  And if huo gai has been served in the Taipei nightlife, it's best to accompany it with a sobering bowl of porridge and plenty of side dishes.

My absolute favorite accompaniment to this bowl of rice soup is super spicy steamed stinky tofu.  It's served in a miniature hot pot with the gas burner still running.  There's nothing like a fragrant tofu in a boiling spicy broth in the middle of a hazy night.  If the spicy broth isn't a natural alarm clock, then I don't know what is.

There are a plethora of side dishes to choose from.  Upon arrival at the porridge shop, there is what seems like a buffet of chafing dishes... from grilled sausage to stir-fried eggplant to spicy cucumber salad to all sorts of crunchy pickles.  In our bumbling and stumbling stupor, we select a recurring theme of egg, vegetable and stewed protein.  Our first round of egg, vegetable and stewed protein includes a pickled radish omelette, garlic sauteed broccoli, and ginger braised calamari.  The omelette, broccoli and calamari all have strong flavors which infuse well into the plain rice porridge. 

Our second round of egg, vegetable and stewed protein ordering produce salted duck eggs, simply sauteed string beans, and three cup chicken.  The salty and dense egg yolk makes for a great crumble over a hot rice porridge.  It may even work better than croutons over salad.  The ginger, garlic, and basil flavored soy and sesame oil from the three cup chicken make for a flavorful gravy over the top of the porridge.  And the green beans complement the steaming stew with a light and refreshing crunch. 

Our second round is also thankfully our last of ordering since everyone has either crashed onto the table or has bickered over the last polyp of broccoli.  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of another friend slap the broccoli out of another one's chopsticks in a not-so-ladylike manner.  And the ratio of intoxicated and those suffering from insomnia versus the sane and sober are dangerously imbalanced.  It's definitely time to go home.

There's nothing that the sweet potato rice porridge can do for us now.  The only thing that can save us now is an efficient taxi driver.  Mai dan so we can hui jia, please.  Until the next night out on the town, let's get S.O.F.A.T.

No Name Congee and Delicatessen (無名子清粥小菜)

台北市 大安區 / Taipei City, Da An District

復興南路 2段 130號 / Fuxing South Road, Section 2, No. 130

ML - 20110910

Post 69: Taipei - Japanese in Taiwan... Unaju (Taipei: Jhongshan District / 台北: 中山區)

Taiwan was colonized by the Japanese prior to the founding of the Republic of China for about 60 years all the way up until the end of World War II.  If you didn't already know, don't worry because you're not alone.  Many Japanese don't even know this since many portions of the war were stricken from history books and excluded from lessons in school.  The point of this post, however, is not to talk about the Japanese colonization of Taiwan, but to point out the many influences they left behind.  It is highly likely that locals and tourists alike will notice the many karaoke bars on every street corner, the orderly queues in the metro stations, the many tatami mats in Taiwanese homes, and the ojisans and obasans who frequent the onsens.  Arguably, one of the heaviest influences of the Japanese on Taiwan, though, was not just the language, culture, or lifestyle but the cuisine.

Even though the Japanese people are mostly gone, the influence of Japanese culinary arts can be seen throughout Taipei in somewhat of a fusion with old Chinese culinary culture.  There are teppanyaki counters in mall food courts that prepare chow mein rather than yakisoba.  There are shabu shabu restaurants that prepare individual sized hot pots with Szechwan style spicy soup base.  There are even lunch spots that fill bento boxes with stir-fried chafing dishes rather than katsu or curry.  These Chinese and Taiwanese infused Japanese cuisines can be found on every main thoroughfare in Taipei, but if you walk into the hidden back alleys, you will find remnants of true Japanese cuisine... untouched by any Chinese adaptation and without any Taiwanese adjustments.

Whenever I'm in Taipei, my aunt takes me to Hizen Ya (肥前屋), an inconspicuous Japanese restaurant that specializes in unaju (鰻重), grilled eel (unagi) over white rice.  It's an authentic Japanese joint hidden down an alleyway behind Zhongshan Road in an area that is frequented by Japanese business travelers.  The store has a barely visible business sign.  And I'm not sure it even says Hizen Ya.  You will know it's the right location because there will be a swarm of people buzzing about in front of the restaurant.  Many of them have paper menus... but many more are simply waiting impatiently for their own box of unaju.

Unaju, by the way, is unagi rice in a box.  Unadon, on the other hand, is unagi rice in a bowl.  It's all about the unaju here.  My aunt tells me that the restaurant's Japanese owner uses local Taiwanese eels, and that the eels are of such high quality that they're even exported to Japan.  It seems like this is common knowledge because there is absolutely no fascination or astonishment on any of the patrons faces here when the food is served.  They all seem like regulars... regulars who know their unagi.  Those who are eating have stoic faces.  They work feverishly through their unaju and barely speak to the company they are with.  Whether small or large, there is a box of eel over rice in front of just about every single person in the restaurant.  Children who haven't yet learned to appreciate the deliciousness that is grilled freshwater eel are ignored by their parents.  Unaju is serious business.  Those who are still ordering methodically check off the items that they fancy... from deep fried oysters to eel wrapped in tamago to grilled skewers.  I do the same... unaju? Check.  Sashimi? Check.  I can never say no to fresh salmon or good yellowtail.

How can a box of grilled fish over rice be so delicious? Well, it's grilled not once but twice... and steamed in between the first and final round of grilling.  It's first grilled to cook the eel, to render the fat, and to get the juices flowing.  It's then steamed to make the flesh of the fish tender and succulent.  And finally, it's grilled once again to crisp and char the outer layer of skin.  The fish is then blanketed across a bed of fluffy, steamed, white rice.  The rice then gets the pleasure of soaking up all the soy infused sweet unagi sauce and all the glorious drippings of fat.

I'm going to throw this unaju post over a literary cliff now and leave you hanging on that image because I'm drooling now... honestly.  Where can I find the same deliciousness of unaju here in the States? Help me out.  Until then, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Hizen Ya (肥前屋)

台北市 中山區 / Taipei City, Jhongshan District

中山北路 1段 121巷 13之2號 / Zhongshan North Road, Section 1, Lane 121, No. 13-2

ML - 20110915

Post 68: Taipei - Never Too Far from Dessert

No matter where you are, you are never too far from dessert in Taipei.  Around every corner, at every intersection, and down every alley, you can find a plethora of post meal refreshments such as handmade mochi, shaved ice, fresh tropical fruit, milk tea, and ice cream.

One of my favorite sweets is mochi (麻糬).  Although the invention of mochi is usually accredited to the Japanese, the Taiwanese have their own balls of rice cake as well.  Whereas the Japanese mochi is filled with sweet pastes such as red bean paste or peanut butter, the Taiwanese version is often not filled at all.  Taiwanese style mochi is dense the entire way through and is also much smaller in size.  The mini mochi balls are commonly rolled in peanut powder, black sesame seeds, granulated sugar, or a combination of the above.  The flavor factor is on the outside rather than enclosed within the layer of pounded rice.



Mochi can even become a form of entertainment at some dessert shops.  I found this out at Sweet Rice Ball (雙連圓仔湯), where I was served one giant blob of mochi (燒麻糬) plopped within a sandstorm of peanut powder, black sesame seeds, and little bits of sugar crystals.  A few toothpicks were placed alongside the enormous sphere of congealed rice.  My aunt picked up the toothpicks and started puncturing the rice cake.  After she had perforated the rice cake, she separated it into a dozen or so miniature mochi balls and rolled them around in the sweet peanut and sugar mixture.  She did it so quickly that I didn't even get a chance to try it for myself.  But no worries... I saved my energy for chewing the ridiculously elastic and malleable sticky rice balls.  No chocolate, no syrups, no heaviness.  Just naturally and slightly sweet.  It's even more fun to eat because it can be popped into your mouth in just one bite.

Sweet Rice Ball also serves shaved ice, which is one of my favorite chilled desserts.  Shaved ice is one of the most powerful ways to combat Taipei's horrendous heat and humidity.  What I like about the shaved ice at Sweet Rice Ball is that they not only have the traditional shaved ice toppings such as red bean, peanuts, and mochi, but they also have lots of unique toppings that other shaved ice shops don't offer as well such as sweet taro paste, corn, and white wood ear fungus.  I would choose this over artificially flavored, multi-colored snow cones any day.

If traditional or unique shaved ice toppings isn't your thing, count your blessings because Taipei has a wealth of shops that serve mango shaved ice and green tea shaved ice. Literally around the corner from world famous dumpling house Din Tai Fung is a shop that specializes in shaved ice called Smoothie House (思慕昔). What's cool about the shaved ice there is that fruit and condensed milk has been infused directly into the ice.

Every part of the dessert is covered in either fruity mango ice, fragrant Taiwan mango (艾文芒果), or golden yellow mango ice cream, so every bite of shaved ice tastes like a milky avalanche of sweet, tropical mango.  It's not even shaved ice or shaved snow anymore.  It's like a shaved mango bonanza. 

The matcha green tea shaved snow here is just as good.  It is as green as Kermit, which means the flavors of Japanese green tea have been truly conquered every part of the ice.  The hill of green tea ice is covered in a mound of sweet, soft azuki bean, and topped off with a panna cotta that is smooth and supple.  It tastes like an East Asian Christmas party.

If healthy is your thing, then you are in luck.  Taiwan is one of the best places in Asia to get fresh fruit.  With its sub-tropical climate, harvesting tropical fruit such as bananas, guavas, lychees, mangoes, mangosteens, pineapples, and wax apples are no trouble at all.  Fruits from Taiwan are, in a word... beautiful.  The first thing you notice about the guavas at the sidewalk fruit stands is the bright color of the fruit.  It's nothing like the pale pink that we get here in the States or in our cartons of Kern's Nectar.  Its fruitful fertility beckons you over the stand, which is when you smell the utterly fragrant scent of the bananas, mangoes, and pineapples.  Those are smells that literally open your eyes and take your breath away.  It's no wonder that the Taiwanese have one of the highest rates of fruits and vegetables consumption in all of Asia.

If you're like me and hate peeling and cutting fruit, then skip the fruit stands and grocery stores altogether.  Instead, head over to a café that serves afternoon tea.  My favorite place to munch on juicy, succulent fruit is in Tamsui, a district of New Taipei City on the edge of the coast.  Red 3 Café (淡水紅樓咖啡館) is atop a staircase that appears to have a million steps.  But the hike to the top is worth it.  There are ample fruits in the afternoon tea selection, and of course, there is a view overlooking the Tamsui River.  Did I mention the beautiful castle that sits halfway to the top? A reward for your efforts on the brick Stairmaster, no doubt.

Too full from dumplings or beef noodle soup and can't hold down another bite? Well, Taipei offers the best iced beverages around.  There are tea houses everywhere that serve fruit infused tea and milk tea.  You may even see some familiar stores such as Quickly, Ten Ren, and 85C.  If you are craving a Frappuccino, Taipei is abound with three or four-storied Starbucks stores.  Almond milk tea? You got it.  Crash milk with grass jelly? You got it.  Lychee flavored Slurpee from 7-Eleven? Not even a problem.

What you may not know, though, is that Taipei also has plenty of coffee houses.  Taiwan is not a major player in the coffee bean industry, but its climate makes for rich and aromatic coffee beans.  Cama Café is brews its Joe (Chou in Taiwan?) to order.  From first hand experience and according to A Girl Lost in Taipei, you can smell their coffee from way down the street.  Their iced chocolate is also good.  It's not just syrupy sweet... it's packed with chocolatey cocoa punch.  Just enough sweet to seal off your appetite.  Oh, and it's just plain cool that they delivery your coffee on bicycles.

Anywhere you go in Taipei, you will find a dessert that is sweet enough for your palate.  Personally, though, I'd say you can't leave Taiwan without having some fresh fruit and some shaved ice.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 201109XX

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 66: Taipei - Braised Pork Rice

Braised pork rice (Taiwanese: loh bbah bun, Mandarin: lu rou fan / 滷肉飯 or 魯肉飯), also known as stewed pork rice, is a truly marvelous Taiwanese dish.  There's nothing like it.  Chicken and rice may come close, but fatty pork over rice simply can't be beat.  Beef may have some beautiful marbling, but only pork has that half protein, half fat, yin and yang balance that is the perfect complement for a bed of fluffy white rice.  In this sense, pork is quite unique because its fat carries such heavy importance.  And it's this sultry fattiness on the outskirts of the pork belly that makes a wonderful bowl of braised pork rice.  Just think about a tender cut of pork that's stewed in its own rendered, juicy lipidity along with seasonings such as soy sauce, garlic and brown sugar.  One bite of this beautifully braised pork over a bed of steamed rice tastes absolutely sinful.

Any trip to Taiwan requires multiple outings for braised pork rice.  Whether it's from a street vendor, a chain store like Formosa Chang, or a traditional Taiwanese restaurant like Sit Fun, the outings must be made.  And since I went on a trip to Taiwan, it meant that I went out for braised pork rice... multiple times.  I embarked on a trifecta of trips to obtain different versions of this precious braised pork rice... and I found a tantalizing bowl with shreds of bamboo shoots interlaced with pork from a sidewalk stall in Jioufen (九份), another bowl served with pickled ginger from Formosa Chang (鬍鬚張), and a final heart-stopping bowl with extra pork gravy from Sit Fun (喫飯食堂).  Mmm....

Although it's called braised pork rice, the pork is really stewed.  The braising portion of searing the meat and simmering in merely its own juices occurs never really happens.  There are actually three main ingredients which get tossed into the simmering stew... swine, soy, and sugar.  If you ever uncap the pot of swine, soy, and sugar while the pork is cooking, you'd see that the fat still hugs the pork and has barely melted away.  You might even wonder if the fat is soluble at all.  In actuality, little bits of fat from the rims of the pork have dissipated into the sweet soy sauce, and they get reunited with the meat when it gets soaked up within the sinews of protein.  Circle of life, much?

It is rare to find a bowl of braised pork rice in the States with the same essence as one from the motherland.  I recently had a bowl that seemed to come close, but perhaps it was because hunger took over me, or perhaps it was because the waitstaff suggested the loh bbah bun to me in the native Taiwanese tongue.  Whatever the reason, the braised pork rice that I held in my hands was tops at the time.  No bowl of chicken or beef donburi could knock the pig from its place at the top of the throne.  Until I find one that beats it, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110904+07+12/20111106

Post 65.3: Taipei - Traditional Taiwanese, Part 3 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

As the last post in a three-part series on traditional Taiwanese food, I have decided to dedicate this post to a restaurant group that is known for their traditional Taiwanese dishes. 

The Shin Yeh restaurants (欣葉) are known for preparing local fare in upscale settings.  Many of the restaurants sit on upper level floors of buildings that overlook Taipei's main thoroughfares.  Some are even set in lounge like atmosphere with dim lighting, trendy music, and novel cocktails.  This is a stark contrast to other traditional Taiwanese restaurants like Little Lin's Seafood and Sit Fun, where the fresh ingredients are laid out by the entrance in refrigerators or over ice.  According to its history, the owner of the original Shin Yeh knew that Taiwanese fare was a simple food and dedicated herself to developing it into a gourmet cuisine that could be served in banquet settings.  The food here is still whipped up in that distinct Taiwanese style of fresh ingredients and simple preparation.  And of course, the main ingredient in the dish is given the spotlight as the essential star of the show.

My family and I dined at shinyeh' table, a sister restaurant of the original Shin Yeh that targets a younger crowed.  Shinyeh' table (蔥花) occasionally names their dishes in creative ways, utilizing puns and analogies and other tongue-in-cheek methods of capturing the guests' attention.  Not all the dishes have amusing names though.  In fact, most of them are pretty standard, but the ones that do bear amusing names really do stir up a chuckle here and there.

Pork song rice (猴囝仔拌飯)
Pork song (肉鬆), also known as pork floss in some bakeries, is a staple in every Taiwanese household.  It's shredded, dried pork that acts almost as a condiment in items such as rice porridge, sandwiches, and even hot soy milk for breakfast.  The texture has been described to be similar to cotton candy, something that melts in your mouth but still provides a slight crunch on first bite.  It's a great addition to basic, steamed, white rice.  The crunch of the pork song is initially a contrast to the steamed rice, but it eventually blends in with the fluff of the rice as easily as the famous little chocolates melt in your mouth.

Wok seared rice noodles (蔥花米粉炒)
Although a rice noodle dish may seem relatively simple, there is a lengthy preparation that occurs prior to the final step of stir-frying.  Vegetables such as cabbage, carrots, celery, mushrooms and snap peas need to be cleaned and chopped... pork or chicken should be sliced into strips, and even eggs have to be scrambled.  Most of the preparation, however, is focused on the rice noodles.  The best rice noodles are said to originate in a oceanside city called Hsinchu (新竹), about one to two hours outside of Taipei.  The makers of rice noodles there hang the strands of noodles out to dry with the natural sunshine and ocean breeze of Hsinchu in the same way that laundry is hung out to dry in the yard.  It is this process that gets each rice noodle dried into individual threads, and it is that separation of the noodle that makes the best stir-fry.

Poached cuttlefish with five spice sauce (無情軟絲)

Squid served with a side of soy sauce paste and wasabi, fresh shredded ginger, and pickled radish is a dish that captures the essence of the Japanese influence on Taiwanese cuisine.  The soy sauce paste, as the name indicates, has five different spices in it, only one of which I can actually pick out... minced garlic.  It probably took more time for the chef to fan out the squid and to shred the ginger than it did for him to actually cook the sublime sea creature.  Simplicity and presentation in detail... the epitome of a Taiwanese dish.

Wok fried loofah with garlic (翻滾吧絲瓜)

Loofah, garlic, and oil... the simplicity here gets carried all the way to mom and pop shops in Agoura Hills.

Great Wall of pig intestine (半里腸城)

The title employs the Great Wall of China (chang cheng / 長城) as a homonym for walls made of intestine (chang cheng / 腸城).  Presented in a way that mimics the Great Wall across the Strait, the mustard greens and soy will protect you from the invading fears of consuming a digestive organ.

Crispy fried soft shell crab (啵棒軟殼蟹)

Deep fried soft shell crab.  Crispy basil and spicy chili.  Done deal.

Prawns stir-fried with tropical fruit (果粒纖蝦)
We all know honey walnut shrimp, but I can guarantee that these prawns dotted with pineapple, kiwi fruit, and bell pepper confetti will completely wipe honey walnut shrimp out of your mind afterward.  A mouthful of natural sweetness oozes from the pores of the slightly crispy shrimp with each bite.  It's a stir-fried version of what I'd eat everyday if I were trapped on a deserted tropical island.

One of the dishes that had an amusing name was a pork and bamboo stir-fry called Teacher I'm So Sorry (老師對不起).  I didn't understand the attempt at humor at first, but my aunt explained that back in her elementary school days the teachers would use bamboo poles to smack the rear ends of misbehaving students.  Consequently, someone must have thought of combining strips of bamboo shoots with tender slices of pork in a stir-fry dish.  It's humorous in a slightly morbid way.

Some of the other amusing names are listed below.  These will require a knowledge of Mandarin Chinese and perhaps a familiarity with the Before & After category on Wheel of Fortune to fully extract the humor:

• 歐麥咖哩麻辣燙 - a spicy curry seafood hot pot roughly translated to Oh My G--rry Spicy Hot Pot.  Fill in the blanks with either 'od' or 'cu,' and the idea reveals itself. 
• 心肝寶貝 - Precious Liver; a liver dish using liver as a pun for honey, precious, or baby as a term of endearment.  In English it implies that the liver is precious because it's an essential organ to the body.  Well, yeah...
• 白鱈公主 - Snow White Codfish; steamed codfish that uses the character for codfish (xue / 鱈) as a homonym for the snow in Snow White (xue / 雪).
• 虎咬豬 - Tiger Bites the Pig, a pork belly pacman bun (gua bao); the bun supposedly symbolizes the tiger's mouth, and the pig (pork belly) is trapped within its jaws.
• Q呆呆杏仁豆腐 - Dummy Almond Jelly (also known as almond tofu), a dessert that implies that the jello is so dumb that it just sits in the bowl idly.
• 這個那個西米露 - tapioca dessert that had the name slightly altered from Ziga Zaga (zig zag with an Asian accent) to zhege nage, which means this one and that one, implying that there are plenty of tapioca balls in the dessert.
• 等超久蔥花小麻糬 - Waited So Long House Mochi, titled so because the patrons truly wait for a lengthy period of time for the kitchen staff to prepare the hand-made Taiwanese rice cakes to order.

Hopefully this series of posts help everyone gain a better understanding of what traditional Taiwanese cuisine is all about.  It's rare to find this kind of truly authentic Taiwanese food Stateside, so perhaps this will encourage foodies around the world to take a trip to Taiwan for a culinary inspired trip.  Until next time, let's get S.O.F.A.T.

shinyeh' table (蔥花)

台北市 大安區/ Taipei City, Da An District

忠孝東路 4段 201號 2樓/ Zhongxiao East Road, Section 4, No. 201, 2nd floor

How I get there:

MRT: Zhongxiao Dunhua Station (捷運忠孝敦化站)

exit no. 2; entrance is across the front door of Starbucks

ML - 20110903

Post 65.2: Taipei - Traditional Taiwanese, Part 2 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

Like black white slice restaurants, the restaurants that serve the most traditional local fare in Taiwan typically don't have menus.  The freshest ingredients are laid out by the front entrance in a refrigerator case or over ice, so when the customers arrive they are able to view the meat and seafood selection for the day.  Ordering is done by selecting what looks the freshest and then letting the chef know how it should be cooked... deep fried, stir fried, blanched, boiled, steamed, or made into soup are popular choices.  After ordering, customers walk in and sit down.

One of my first meals in Taipei was at a traditional Taiwanese restaurant called Sit Fun (喫飯食堂).  Now... there's something to be said here about a restaurant called Sit Fun in Taiwan.  What doesn't make sense is that "sit fun" sounds like a translation for eating (食飯) in Cantonese, which is not typically spoken in Taiwan.  What does make sense, though, is that to sit down and to have fun is what eating is all about! Am I right, or am I right? 

Here are some Taiwanese dishes from Sit Fun that we had.  They are cooked in the simple style of traditional Taiwanese cuisine.

Braised pork rice (魯肉飯)
Cubes of fatty pork are braised and rendered down until the juicy fat almost melts in your mouth.  Topped over steamed white rice, this bowl of pork and rice is as simple and as tasty as it gets.  Although it's one of the best rice items at Sit Fun, what this restaurant specializes in isn't braised pork over rice but actually just pork oil over rice (豬油拌飯).  Lard, you say? Let's just call it pork-infused oil.  Two words... disgustingly delicious.

Appetizer platter (拼盤)
Usually the first dish to arrive, the Taiwanese appetizer platter almost always includes the following items: fresh sashimi, tender bamboo shoots, and crisp asparagus.  The sashimi for on this plate consisted of salmon, yellowtail, and whitefish... but why sashimi? Doesn't that seem more Japanese than Taiwanese or Chinese? Actually Taiwan was colonized under Japanese imperial rule for over 60 years, so it can be said that the sashimi at the start of the meal represents the large Japanese influence in Taiwanese cultural and culinary history.

Bamboo and asparagus are typical favorites for Taiwanese.  And as always, those two items have a light layer of Japanese style mayonnaise for a sweet contrast.  Also served on the platter are freshly cut pumpkin as well as baby octopus, both of which are the fresh picks of the day.

To truly make this a pu pu platter experience, the appetizer dish is served with toothpicks.  It's the closest to finger food that we're going to get without going barbaric.

Salt water chicken (鹽水雞)
No, the chicken was not raised in salt water with the fish of the ocean.  Rather, it was poached in salt water and served with a side of garlic soy.  Salty much? Not so.  The majority of the salt doesn't get far past the skin, but the portion that does bypass the skin serves to tenderize the chicken while it's cooking.  The method of cooking is so effortless that it seems almost primitive, but the true sign of tradition and authenticity.

Tempura shrimp (炸蝦球)
Who doesn't love fried shrimp? Silence.  Okay, who doesn't love spicy mayo? Continued silence.  Now... who doesn't love fried shrimp with spicy mayo drizzled all over the top? Cheers.  I think you get the picture.

Barbecue pork (台式叉燒肉)

What we typically know as Cantonese style BBQ pork is chasiu pork, that crimson colored sweet pork perhaps akin to the Mexican al pastor.  Well, here lands the Taiwanese version... a less red, less sweet, more moist and more thinly sliced version that is served with both pickled ginger and honey vinegar.  It's tastes like a moist jerky made from honey ham, and it's moist enough to be the most tender sweet and savory meat you will find this side of the Strait.

All of the dishes above have common characteristic of an easily identifiable main ingredient and an accompanying side sauce, both of which are features of traditional Taiwanese dishes.  After reading the previous post, you'll notice similar characteristics.  These simple dishes made from fresh ingredients is one of the ways to distinguish Taiwanese cuisine from others.  And it's this simplicity that makes the dishes so delicious.  Until the next simple and delicious meal, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Sit Fun (喫飯食堂)

台北市 大安區 / Taipei City, Da An District

永康街 8巷 5號 / Yong Kang Street, Lane 8, No. 5

ML - 20110907