Hey, it’s me. The girl who calls herself the “noodle queen” and eats dumplings approximately 5 times per week. I have a secret to tell you: until last month, I had NEVER been to Asia. That’s right — the continent responsible for all my greatest food obsessions had been nothing more than a mythical idea inside my noodle-filled head until recently, when I traversed the pacific with Journy and landed myself in none other than Taipei, Taiwan.
Taiwan is food Mecca. I came, I saw, I conquered, and I returned from my pilgrimage as an enlightened eater. Here are my findings.
Beef noodles
Going to Taiwan and not eating beef noodle soup is kind of like going to Italy and not eating pasta. It’s f’ing insane. Beef noodle soup is something of a national dish in Taiwan and I tried two absolutely fantastic versions thanks to the expert eaters at Journy. The first spot, Da Kuai Beef Noodle, was one of those homey hole-in-the-wall restaurants where the lack of an ambience is actually the best ambience. They hand-make their noodles as well as their broth and the result is a beautiful, light, flavorful bowl of soup with twisty, uneven noodles that add a pleasantly chewy texture to the dish (a texture amplified with beef tendon or tripe, should you choose to go that route). Completely different and simultaneously amazing, the beef noodle soup at Yong Kang Beef noodles is one that I’m not likely to soon forget. The broth was dark and rich with a depth of flavor that could only be achieved by hours and hours of patient simmering. The noodles were thinner and not hand-made but still had a perfect bite. In both cases, the beef noodle soup was best accompanied by Taiwan beer and good company.
Pork vermicelli with oysters at Chen Ji
We’re hungover. And we’re tired (because, let’s be real: if you’re not hungover and/or tired for the majority of a trip did you really do it right?). But we are determined.
At Chen Ji people cue up for the pork vermicelli noodles with tiny oysters. This soup is more like a thick stew of sorts and what shocked me most about this dish was how delicate it was. No part of it’s description (oyster vermicelli with pig intestine) screams “subtle.” But the oysters are not briny; they’re sweet. The pig intestine adds more crunch than it does extreme flavor, and the thin wisps of vermicelli along with the silky, thick soup make for a deeply satisfying textural experience.
Soup dumplings at Din Tai Fung
Din Tai Fung originated in Taipei and serves up some of the best soup dumplings I’ve tasted in my humble, dumpling-filled life. I’m sure you’ve had soup dumplings before and that’s all fine and good but the xiao long bao at Din Tai Fung are ART. Each dumpling is made with exactly 5 grams of dough, 16 grams of filling and 18 pleats. When we landed in Taiwan after about 20 hours of travel I was jet-lagged and SO hungry: the optimal state for entering a country where eating is one of the main hobbies. After just one bite of a juicy xiao long bao, the thin dumpling skin just barely carrying the weight of the rich soup inside it and the vinegar sauce + pickled ginger off-setting the meaty pork perfectly, all signs of discomfort were cured. Don’t sleep on the chili oil wontons, either.
Cherry roast duck at Red Lantern
At Red Lantern in Yilan, cherry roast duck is the star of the show. The entire glistening bird is carved table-side, its various parts utilized in dishes ranging from stuffed scallion pancake and 3 cup duck to hearty soup made from the leftover bones. But one bite hovered slightly above the rest: roasted duck “nigiri.” In this rendition of sushi, crispy duck skin acts as the nori, encasing sticky rice and a bit of cheese. The duck skin is so sweet and bursts with flavorful, hot juicy fat the second it enters your mouth, coating the sticky rice masterfully and sending its recipient into a state of euphoria. Moment of silence, please.
Specialties at Ning Xia Night Market
Ning Xia Night Market is a food playground and I, an active jungle gym-rat.
Generally, the idea that a culture is so obsessed with food that there are giant markets with dozens if not hundreds of food stalls open all night long awaiting the hungry masses is extremely appealing to me. Even more appealing is the fact that at Ning Xia, many of the vendors are considered the best at their particular specialties.
We started our jaunt through the night market with some goose noodle soup — a richer, more complex version of the homey chicken noodle soup I grew up with. Apparently, those who are in-the-know request a side of chopped up goose head to go with their noodle soup, the brain being the most coveted part. Of course, I had to take part in this tradition and recommend others do, as well.
Important to note: this entire market is ripe with the smell of stinky tofu. What does that smell like, you might ask? Well, I’d liken it to the pervasive scent of human urine/general ghastly odors that are the norm at the 14th street/8th avenue subway station and anyone who lives in New York knows that is the smelliest station in Manhattan. HOWEVER: stinky tofu is actually delicious. It’s probably the single situation where scent doesn’t enhance flavor. The tofu is deep-fried, spongy, a little bit funky and very good.
Another must-order at this market: The lu rou fen (minced pork rice) with duck egg yolk. Wash it down with a cold Taiwan beer (and really, that’s the ideal scenario for any meal).
Aboriginal dining at Truku
Truku, located in Taroko Gorge, is more like a home than it is a restaurant. Dining at Truku is akin to having lunch at a family friend’s home — grab a seat at the table and wait for lunch to be served while the family bustles around in the kitchen, their daughter playing at your feet.
The restaurant is named for the aboriginal tribe that occupies the area and serves food that utilizes its unique ingredients, prepared by indigenous cooking methods. And yes, the food is delicious but more than that, Truku is transportive. It took me to another time, another life, another place where no one is in a hurry and everyone is family. The wild boar, quail, century egg with tofu + roe, and sweet sausage + sticky rice in bamboo just sweetened the deal.
Late Night
Yong He Soy Milk is one of those places that exists to right the wrongs. You’re hungry? Awesome. It’s late and you don’t want to go to another bar but you don’t want to go home? Great. You want some soup dumplings but could also go for an egg crepe with pork floss? Perfect. The food is great and at 4am, so is the people watching.
