Postcard from Taipei

Notes from a proletarian gourmet.

I’m wandering off my usual path of writing about work, life, politics, and other weighty topics to bring you this special travel edition.

I’m in Taipei for a few days to visit with my 94-ish year old aunt. (She won’t give me her exact vintage. When pressed about her age, her usual response is, “none of your business.”)

As some of you might know, Taiwan is where I was born. I lived in Taipei with my mother, grandparents, and aunt in a charming Japanese style house until the age of six. (Sadly, that colonial era home from the Japanese occupation is gone, replaced by a very unattractive four-story condo.) My mother and I then immigrated to the U.S. to join my father in Houston, where he worked as—guess what?—a mathematician for Texaco.

The kids in the ‘hood. Any guess which one I am?

The transition from Taipei to Houston was rough, but I’ll save that story of cultural trauma for another time. Today, I’m bringing you a much lighter, more scrumptious fare.

Taipei is all about food, food, food. There are eateries everywhere—from high-design restaurants to traditional breakfast joints where old, caked-on grease is essential decor, not to mention the famous street food offered at night markets. You can eat yourself silly in this town. But somehow no one seems fat. (Maybe I should write the Chinese version of French Women Don’t Get Fat.) 

There are now some 35 Michelin-starred restaurants in Taipei, but if you’re looking for suggestions of that sort from me, you’re out of luck. Truth is, I eat like a proletarian, and haute cuisine is not my thing. I have much simpler taste in Chinese food—meaning dumplings, dan-dan mein, spicy beef noodle soup, and scallion pancakes—the foods of my childhood.

Without further ado, here’s a sampling of what I’ve been stuffing myself with on this trip, with a few suggestions for those who find themselves hungry in Taipei:

Xiaolongbao (soup dumplings) heaven. If you go to Taipei, there are two places that you absolutely cannot miss: The National Palace Museum, which houses 700,000 artworks that span 8,000 years of Chinese history, and Din Tai Fung, the famous restaurant that serves arguably the best xiaolongbao in the world. The wait can be ridiculous at Din Tai Fung (sometimes up to two hours around 6:00 to 7:30 in the evening), so either go early or late (last call is 8:30) or get a number for a table and wander the bustling scene in the area.

Artists at work; the final masterpiece.

Note the delicate tucks on the dumpling and my bliss.

Chinese breakfast: Eat. Don’t look. You certainly don’t go for the ambience. Most of the traditional breakfast places are run down and grimy—which is how you know it’s the real thing. But the food is awesomely satisfying. My faves are the dumplings (again), scrambled egg wrapped in bread baked in a clay oven, soy milk (sweet or savory), and youtiao (a type of elongated savory doughnut—see picture below).

The open kitchen at a traditional breakfast eatery on Ren Ai Road.

Not breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Amazing fast food: Unless you go to a formal restaurant or attend a Chinese banquet, everything, in a sense, is fast food in Taiwan. Just wander the streets and eat whatever appeals to your senses.

One of the swankier Taiwanese fast food places.

My favorite things: potstickers, spicy baby eggplant, simple wonton soup, marinated cucumbers, beef noodle soup, and spicy dan-dan mein.

Happy eating!

Contact: chen.vivia@gmail.com

Twitter (X): ViviaChen