A Taste of Taiwan: Four Not-to-Be-Missed Spots

On a sunny spring day, people stood in a queue to wait for a sizzling plate of oyster omelet: a savory dish of small oysters, egg batter, sauce, and green leafy vegetables. A few feet away at another small booth, a large group eagerly awaited a light snack of peanut brittle shavings, ice cream, and cilantro, in a thin burrito wrap. All around the festival site, people held colorful cups of bubble tea and aiyu jelly as they explore arts and crafts and watched exciting traditional dances.

Last week at Union Square in Manhattan, the 13th Annual Passport to Taiwan Festival celebrated Taiwanese-American heritage and introduced hundreds of people to the island nation’s brilliant culture, art, history, and mouthwatering food. That afternoon, I sipped on a boba drink while walking around the venue with a friend. We both spent last summer interning in Taipei, and the sights, food, music, and performances at the festival reminded us of our exciting adventures in Taiwan.

Here are four fun destinations in the nation’s capital that I really enjoyed last summer!

1. Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall (中正紀念堂/”Zhongzheng jinian tang”)

The place I worked at last summer, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, was right near this well-known monument erected in memory of the former president. During lunchtime, my colleagues and I would stroll to the large public square leading up to this memorial building and explore the area. Sometimes we’d watch the changing of the guard, which is an hourly ceremony conducted in a strict military fashion.

2. Yongkang Street (永康街/”Yongkang jie”)

Though I’ve been to Taipei a few times before, last year was the first time I visited this street, known for its famous restaurants, cafes, and small shops. While working at the Ministry, my coworkers and I would bike here to try out various delicacies: I really enjoyed Yongkang Street’s quaint noodle and dumpling restaurants and shaved ice booths.

3. Elephant Mountain (象山/”Xiangshan”)

Hiking up stairs to reach the top of this mountain gives you a magnificent view of the Taipei skyline. It only takes about 20 minutes to get to the top, and the stairs aren’t too difficult to climb. The mountain is a particularly popular place to visit during sunrise and sunset, with tourists ascending alongside locals and photographers.

4. Ximending (西門町)

This shopping district is famous for its youth culture and its restaurants, fashion-forward clothing shops, and all types of entertainment: theaters, salons, KTV venues, trendy bars and clubs, and food stalls. Ximending is always packed on weekends, with young people enjoying this happenin’ district.

There are abundant options of stores and places to eat, and you’ll find foreign restaurants in addition to unique eateries, including the infamous toilet-themed restaurant. Whether it’s seeing a live performance, getting a new haircut, or buying a snack, Ximending is an unforgettable must-see if you’re ever in Taipei.

How David Chang’s Take on Food Relates to Identity

With the rise and triumph of Momofuku Ko, Ssäm Bar, and Milk Bar, along with his many other projects (including the quarterly magazine Lucky Peach and the PBS documentary series The Mind of a Chef, David Chang has staked a claim in the food world, and people are paying close attention. “Innovative” and “rebel” are buzz words that people commonly attribute to Chang; but, with more interviews and profiles, the most prominent qualities that emerge are his dedication and honesty.

Chef David Chang prepares roasted rice cakes at Momofuku Noodle Bar in New York

(Photo: AP/Diane Bondareff)

And it’s not just honesty about his tastes on food. It’s honesty with things ranging from his views on failure and religion to his personal fears for the future. What caught my attention was his openness of expressing his struggles with grasping an identity rooted in heritage.

In an interview with Big Think, Chang was asked how his Korean heritage changed his world view. He responded:

I didn’t fit in when I lived in Korea because I wasn’t “Korean” Korean. I’m what they call a “gyopo“, which is an American-born Korean. And I didn’t fit in with the kids I went to school with because I wasn’t white. And I didn’t fit in with the Korean Americans because I hung out with the white kids. So it created awkward situations for me, but I had to adjust.

Chang’s answer reflects on what some people from immigrant and second-, third-, etc. generation homes experience. They can’t identify with others of their national origin since they were born and/or raised in the US, but they also can’t relate to the particular hybrid “hyphen American” culture they encounter around them. Instead, they are caught in a limbo between these two kinds of identities, struggling to find a footing within a cultural or heritage group.

Grits with fried farm eggs, pickled scallions, red ball radish, and salted ham scraps

(Photo: Hans Gissinger)

One of the struggles of living in this limbo is that others don’t recognize it. It is common to assume that if you are of a specific ethnicity or heritage living in the US, you fit the criteria of being part of the “hyphen American” experience. However, as the years pass and the diversity of immigrant families grow, more people discover themselves in a group that defies categorization; they are, essentially, outside of the “hyphen American” culture. As a result, they, like Chang, learn to adjust.

For Chang, part of that adjustment is reflected in his food. While ethnically Korean, Chang serves and cooks food that is insipired by many cuisines and influences.

The food that we have our restaurants, at Momofuku, is a little bit eclectic, it’s all over the place. Obviously there’s an Asian bent, but not really… the menus have country hams from Tennessee, North Carolina, and Kentucky. We have crudo, roast ducks that are stuffed in a very Chinese/French way… I think that most people are stuck in the realm of having to categorize stuff, and I think that limits your ability to make delicious food. So that’s what I try to say: we try to make delicious food.

Like many artists, chefs face questions of the “authenticity” of their work. But, is a chef’s ethnicity a directive of his or her cuisine? Does one have an obligation to respect and keep the purity of the flavors of his or her heritage?

With the rise of food fads and trendsetting yet soon-to-be-forgotten ingredients and cooking techniques, these questions are nevertheless relevant because more and more people want food that has some sort of significance. Heritage and ethnicity can, at times, guarantee the authenticity that diners crave.

A selection of pies from Milk Bar; don’t worry, “crack pie” is not “authentic”

For Chang, these questions do not disturb him. He still pulls flavors from Korea and other parts of Asia, but his fare doesn’t fit into any Asian cuisine – not that, it seems, he wants it to. Chang takes his preferences, inspirations, and spontaneous impulses to make food what it is supposed to be in the first place: delicious.

In some ways, one can draw parallels between Chang’s take on food and his and many others’ adjustment to living in a cultural limbo. While there is something deeply meaningful of being part of an established or specific group, food and one’s personal identity don’t have to be categorizable. Instead of sticking to “authentic” foods, Chang’s creations are straight-up good. Taste surpasses any sort of obligation to ethnicity or culture, which could reflect Chang’s own personal story of not fitting in anywhere.

Make your own group

(Photo: Hans Gissinger)

Similarly, people in “limbo” can find or form a foundation that surpasses heritage and culture. It’s not to say that heritage is forgotten, but heritage no longer needs to strictly dictate so many components of one’s identity.

For each person, that foundation or rooting certainly varies in shape and form, and may even change a lot as time progresses; it could also be a conglomeration of many different experiences. Whatever that foundation may be, it is personal and can be free of restrictions due to categorizations. Instead of being authentic with respect to heritage, it will be real with respect to the individual.

Main image: AP/Diane Bondareff

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for– Bubble Tea?

Also known as milk tea, boba, 珍珠奶茶 (zhen zhu nǎi chá), and pearl milk tea, “bubble tea” is an increasingly popular sweet drink in the U.S.

It originated from Taiwan in the 1980s, although exactly in which city and by whom it was invented is disputed – either at a tea stand in Taichung or at a Tainan teahouse. Historically, the oldest known bubble tea was a delightful concoction of hot Taiwanese black tea, small tapioca pearls, condensed milk, and syrup or honey.

An “original” pearl milk tea, you can’t go wrong – black tea with milk and tapioca pearls, or “boba”

To enlighten anyone who hasn’t experienced this kind of Asian foodie culture, “bubble tea” is basically tea with milk, some type of sugar or sweetener, and tapioca pearls. “Bubble” refers to the tapioca pearls, which are usually black and are small and round, resembling bubbles; they sit at the bottom of the drink and have a soft and chewy texture.

Be adventurous and don’t just look at the pearls’ pretty colors – try other types of boba!

Typically sweet and cold, these drinks come in a massive array of variations. Sometimes, in addition or instead of pearls, you can request other types of add-ons, such as pudding or jelly. The tea itself can vary from black or green tea. Additionally, there are fruit versions, like mango milk tea, and even fruit-tea fusions, such as peach green tea.

Following the popularity of bubble tea, countless tea shops have popped up all over the world, even in Western countries: Fantasia, Boba Loca, Tapioca Express, Quickly, Half and Half (my personal favorite) – just to name a few.

How about this one to hit the spot, whether it’s your sweet tooth or your cavity: boba and pudding snow milk ice tea, drizzled with molasses

At most milk tea joints, the options for personalized drinks are flexible. Any tea drinker who knows exactly what they want can request less (or more) ice, a certain level of sweetness, omission of pearls, milk substitution. It’s like the Asian version of Starbucks – but better!

Yummy and refreshing, kiwi fruit tea!

As with any other food trend, with popularity comes controversy and scandal. For bubble tea, the trouble comes in the form of health concerns. With all its sugars and empty calories, bubble tea is by all means not what one would consider a healthy drink. To drag down its nutritional value further, tapioca pearls, milk powder, and juice syrups, all of which are commonly used ingredients in commercialized bubble tea due to their relatively low costs, have been found to contain banned chemical additives, linked to carcinogens and hormone imbalances. Fortunately, a quick Google search yields many results for healthy DIY bubble tea recipes.

Whew, at least bubble tea wasn’t on the line-up for New York City’s sugary drinks ban

Nonetheless, despite its controversial health properties, bubble tea is pretty darn delicious and reasonably priced. It’s no surprise that it continues to reign as a stylish and dessert-esque drink option, especially in large cities with diverse cultures. Sometimes I wish I could drink bubble tea everyday but, alas, it remains a wonderful and occasional treat.

Do Asians Eat Dogs?

Illustration by motobus

“You’re Asian, can I ask you something?”

“Asian-American, yes, go ahead.”

“Have you ever eaten dog?”

I blinked in surprise and stumbled through several uhs and ums before I could respond to my (white) colleague. The question was genuinely curious, but not without a gleam of hostility. The answer was: No, I haven’t. But how is one supposed to answer this barbed and accusatory question?

What else do we eat, which we should question?

By the facts, yes: Asians eat dog meat – stewed, steamed, boiled, and barbequed. Some Chinese eat dog for its medicinal qualities, believing it to be good for metabolism and warmth. In Korea, poshintang, “tonic soup,” is a common dog stew known for its stamina and virility-increasing potency. Dog meat has been a part of Southeast and East Asian cuisine for thousands of years.

What then, is the controversy over dog meat? The answer is a visceral, disgusted churning in the Western appetite. In America, dogs are known as “man’s best friend.” They’re companions and members of the family – definitely not dinner. To see a dozen dogs cramped up against one another in a single cage, awaiting their grisly fate at a slaughterhouse, very reasonably inspires animal-welfare activism.

What makes dogs more special, than say, pigs? Pigs are far more intelligent, but our relationship with dogs is rooted in a symbiotic evolution. In exchange for food and security, friendly wolves served as hunting aids, warning systems, garbage disposals, as well as defenders and guardians of children. According to a DNA study, humans’ sense of smell was reduced because our alliance with dogs rendered it unnecessary. In a significant sense, dogs made us human, our affinity towards them. However, in hunter-gatherer times, thousands of years before refrigeration and crop storage, “when times were tough, dogs could have served as an emergency food supply.”

Hence, biology does not fully explain our taste buds. Western outrage toward dog-eating remains primarily a feature of a high-minded, well-fed culture, whose convictions betray a certain industrial privilege. Western cultural superiority does not necessarily understand how Chinese and Korean people have suffered from famine brought on by authorities. In the context of Chinese rural culture, where dogs compete with humans for resources, “eating dogs appears to be a compensatory adaption to material deprivation and the lack of reliable sources of other meats,” writes Frank H. Wu, Dean of University of California Hastings College of the Law.

Meat vendors in Asia today generally make a distinction between the dogs raised at home – pets, and the kind raised for eating – food. There’s no doubt, however, that the cultural superiority of the United States has influence. Under international scrutiny, when the Olympic Games were held in Seoul, Korea in 1988 and in Beijing, China in 2008, both countries vigorously banned and regulated dog meat. In the absence of a moral argument for giving up dog-eating, these countries wish to maintain their image in the face of worldwide opinion.

In the United States, narratives of Asians and dog-eating reduce the people of Asia to a minor aspect of their diverse ways of life. This allows stereotypes to abound, and form the basis for a belief that Asian people are inferior. As Wu says, “dog eating becomes an excuse to make Asians the butt of jokes and ultimately to disrespect complete culture as primitive.”

“Do Asians eat dogs?” The gaze of the question, curious and blaming, weighs upon me.

I feel vulnerable, but there is a dignified response that illuminates prejudice: “Why do you ask?”

You are What You Eat: Of Steamed Buns, Pizza, and Politicians

Food seems to be a popular political tool for politicians across the globe. Of course, the type of food is the crucial factor here: if one wants to convey that he stands with the people, as politicians are oft to do, he will choose a common food. When ordinary people see the public figure eating ordinary food, it makes the figure more relatable and representative. Apparently, this applies to Chinese politics as much as Western politics.

While New York Mayor Bill de Blasio undergoes scrutiny for his selection of utensils, the Chinese media and online forums exploded with admiration and praise for Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to a Beijing restaurant last month. During this surprise visit, Mr. Xi reportedly stood in line and paid for his own buns, reiterating his political platform as a “leader of the people”. In the Qingfeng Steamed Dumpling Shop, Mr. Xi ordered pork and onion buns, green vegetables, and pig intestines for roughly $3.40. Criticisms for the visit arose as well, though they were overwhelmed by the tide of positive response to this rare demonstration of populism.

President Xi enjoying an everyman’s lunch

While American politicians commonly frequent popular local establishments in campaign events, this type of PR strategy is few and far between in China. With a long history of institutionalized separation between the masses and those in power, modern Chinese perceptions of their inaccessible political leaders often fringe on the superhuman. For locals, President Xi’s visit instantly canonized his order, with the dishes and the Beijing eatery becoming popular subjects for tourism.

Last week, Mayor Bill de Blasio had markedly different reactions from his recent restaurant visit. The new mayor of New York City was seen eating pizza at the popular Staten Island eatery, Goodfella’s Pizza. Instead of starting a new pizza craze, the mayor’s lunch visit sparked an online and media controversy.

Common criticisms cite Mayor de Blasio’s use of a fork to eat his pizza as unrepresentative of the New York style. After the visit, Mayor de Blasio’s food selections aren’t the focus of the subsequent tourism – his cutlery is. The restaurant owner proceeded to put the fork on display, with plans to auction off the utensil at a charity fundraiser.

Jon Stewart is on top of “Forkgate” with Mayor de Blasio

(Photo: Comedy Central)

It could be said that Mayor de Blasio’s gaffe derives in his “wrong” eating technique, one that was distinctively un-New York and not reflective of “the people,” while Mr. Xi adhered to common eating practices. Yet, a review of photos from the event revealed that Mr. Xi used chopsticks instead of his hands, which is the more common practice for Chinese people. Granted, politeness is a valid excuse for preferring one method to another, yet Mr. Xi encountered no criticisms of any kind over his choice of utensils.

For Mr. Xi, his lunch of steamed buns elevated the dish and the restaurant to a “presidential” level, while Mayor de Blasio was condemned for failing to adhere to the “ordinary” level. The differences in the reactions to Mr. Xi and Mayor de Blasio’s restaurant outings demonstrate fundamental differences in the sociopolitical conditions between China and the United States. Perhaps this shift in popular appeal marks a parallel shift in Chinese political norms. Mr. Xi’s bid to represent the Chinese people, or laobaixing, could be the beginning of a China that puts more weight on the opinions of her citizens, though this remains to be seen.

Main image by Tutou Jueren via China Digital Times