Mention xiaolongbao (小龍包), or steamed dumplings, and the name Din Tai Fung (鼎泰豐) is bound to enter the conversation. But any dumpling aficionado is just as likely to tout a cheaper and even better alternative.
One such place is Mingyue Tangbao (明月湯包, Mingyue Steamed Dumplings), which enjoys a loyal following. During busy times it’s not uncommon to find a line of people waiting outside this modest shop near the Tonghua Street (通化街) night market. The interior feels more like the typical Taiwanese noodle joint, sparsely decorated and with room for about 20 people. Wooden blocks on the wall list each menu item, and medals won by the chef hang proudly at the back of the room.
Both connoisseurs and newcomers should try the house specialty, mingyue tangbao (明月湯包, NT$120 per basket of eight), the shop’s name for its xiaolongbao. The marks of a good dumpling were all there: the outer flour wrap was delicate and thin but didn’t break when picked up with chopsticks; each dumpling had a good proportion of soup, meat and dough; and the minced pork was lean and tasted fresh.
There are different ways to enjoy xiaolongbao, which is part of the fun. Some like to eat a whole dumpling in one bite and let the broth trapped inside explode in the mouth (let the dumplings cool for a few minutes so you won’t burn yourself). A slower method is to savor the flavors separately. Dip a dumpling in soy sauce and vinegar, place it in your spoon, nibble a hole in the wrap and sip the soup that spills out. Finish the rest after adding a few slithers of ginger, which the waiter brings to your table on a tiny sauce plate.
Mingyue’s unique pot stickers (鍋貼, NT$120), also a house specialty, could rekindle affection for this old standby. Each serving of 10 dumplings arrives connected together at the bottom by a thin golden sheet of crispy flour and oil. The waiter sets the plate down and quickly separates the dumplings with a fork. The crispy bottom packed a satisfying crunch while a hint of sweetness in the dough was well-balanced by the minced pork’s savoriness.
The steamed vegetable dumplings (淨素蒸餃, NT$130 per basket of eight) also deserve mention for their tasty filling of vegetable greens and bits of tofu. Some heartier choices for winter include the steamed chicken soup (圓盅燉雞湯, NT$140) and the stewed beef soup (清燉牛肉湯, NT$120), both of which come with a side of noodles for an extra NT$20. Pass on the scallion pancakes (蔥油餅, NT$50), which were too greasy.
Mingyue also runs a more spacious sit-down restaurant around the corner at 40, Ln 171, Tonghua St (通化街171巷40號), with a wider range of options, but its faux trendy decor falls short. The plain-Jane shop on Keelung Road has more character, if you can do without the Shanghai grandeur. Both restaurants are a five-minute walk from Liuzhangli (六張犁) MRT Station. — DAVID CHEN
Taiwan has next to no political engagement in Myanmar, either with the ruling military junta nor the dozens of armed groups who’ve in the last five years taken over around two-thirds of the nation’s territory in a sprawling, patchwork civil war. But early last month, the leader of one relatively minor Burmese revolutionary faction, General Nerdah Bomya, who is also an alleged war criminal, made a low key visit to Taipei, where he met with a member of President William Lai’s (賴清德) staff, a retired Taiwanese military official and several academics. “I feel like Taiwan is a good example of
March 2 to March 8 Gunfire rang out along the shore of the frontline island of Lieyu (烈嶼) on a foggy afternoon on March 7, 1987. By the time it was over, about 20 unarmed Vietnamese refugees — men, women, elderly and children — were dead. They were hastily buried, followed by decades of silence. Months later, opposition politicians and journalists tried to uncover what had happened, but conflicting accounts only deepened the confusion. One version suggested that government troops had mistakenly killed their own operatives attempting to return home from Vietnam. The military maintained that the
“M yeolgong jajangmyeon (anti-communism zhajiangmian, 滅共炸醬麵), let’s all shout together — myeolgong!” a chef at a Chinese restaurant in Dongtan, located about 35km south of Seoul, South Korea, calls out before serving a bowl of Korean-style zhajiangmian —black bean noodles. Diners repeat the phrase before tucking in. This political-themed restaurant, named Myeolgong Banjeom (滅共飯館, “anti-communism restaurant”), is operated by a single person and does not take reservations; therefore long queues form regularly outside, and most customers appear sympathetic to its political theme. Photos of conservative public figures hang on the walls, alongside political slogans and poems written in Chinese characters; South
Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (蔣萬安) announced last week a city policy to get businesses to reduce working hours to seven hours per day for employees with children 12 and under at home. The city promised to subsidize 80 percent of the employees’ wage loss. Taipei can do this, since the Celestial Dragon Kingdom (天龍國), as it is sardonically known to the denizens of Taiwan’s less fortunate regions, has an outsize grip on the government budget. Like most subsidies, this will likely have little effect on Taiwan’s catastrophic birth rates, though it may be a relief to the shrinking number of