I must confess that I broke a vow made a few years back never to step foot again into Alleycat’s. My last experience in the claustrophobic and crypt-like atmosphere of its branch located a stone’s throw from Yongkang Street (永康街) saw an angry chef repeatedly berating a server over some indiscretion — one that was perhaps deserved because the service was terrible (though the food was excellent).
Fast forward a few years and I happened past the chain’s recently opened location in Huashan 1914 Creative Park
(華山1914), where large calzone-shaped casement windows exuded soft light. Tempted by the ambiance and the deliciously pungent smell of baking, I broke my covenant.
The expansive interior, with its vaulted ceilings and open-spaced concept, consists of two rooms separated by a long bar. The walls are painted mustard yellow with patches of exposed brick, and the windows are ideal for watching the hustle and bustle of the open market (on weekends) outside.
Behind the bar, patrons can watch cooks roll, dress and bake pizzas and calzones. Two arches to the right of the long bar act as the gateway to the second dining room above, which sports a partial replica of Michelangelo’s fresco The Creation of Adam, rounding out the Mediterranean vibe that the restaurant does well to cultivate.
As I was losing myself in the architectural largesse, the caprese salad (NT$180) arrived. Sliced tomatoes and fresh mozzarella were alternately stacked on a small plate, and it was seasoned with lemon juice, olive oil and cracked pepper and sprinkled with slivers of fresh basil.
Like the Tower of Pisa it replicates in miniature form, however, it was slightly awry. More to the point, the salad was not so much daubed but drenched in olive oil, effectively drowning out the delicate flavors of the tomato, cheese and basil. Perhaps a little less oil and a sprinkling of balsamic vinegar would lighten up this heavy starter.
But everything fell into place with the vegetarian pizza (NT$330 for 10-inch; NT$360 for 12-inch). Alleycat’s takes its dough seriously. Made from scratch, it is assembled as ordered and cooked in a stone oven.
The mural of black olives, green peppers, tomatoes, shiitake mushrooms and artichoke hearts was evenly arranged on a thin crust with just the right amount of mozzarella cheese and marinara sauce. The crust was expertly cooked to a golden brown on the edges and remained soft and chewy toward the center.
The calzone (NT$350) was also a triumph. Served with a Caesar salad and marinara sauce on the side, the pastry’s innards were a gooey mixture of spinach and ricotta cheese infused with aromatic spices.
And the service? No angry chefs here, and my water glass was kept full even though the place was packed.
The restaurant also has a large outside patio that is perfect for slinging back a few ciders or glasses of Hoegaarden draught (both NT$120 for a half pint or NT$220 for a pint).
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
“Taiwan’s Opposition Leader Comes to US With a Message Straight Out of Beijing” read a May 31 headline in the Wall Street Journal. Top US administration officials and members of Congress almost certainly read the WSJ, and if there was a bullet point takeaway that people in Washington should absorb ahead of Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chair Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) arrival in DC on June 9, that headline is it. The last few columns have discussed this very topic, and the timing is not coincidental. While those top officials likely do not read the Taipei Times, judging by the number
With weighty, anxiety-inducing geopolitical topics dominating the headlines, checking in on the wild and weird state of local politics can take some of the edge off. This November’s elections will determine who will be in charge of fixing potholes in your neighborhood, not the potholes in Taiwan’s complicated geopolitical space. Recently, after an online interview with a Taipei-based journalist, I commented that Taipei journalists never go further than the MRT can take them. He laughed and agreed. Naturally, the Taipei mayoral race is eating up much of the press attention. TAIPEI CITY Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) candidate Puma Shen (沈伯洋) has
As someone who normally steers clear of books with “transcendence” or “metaphysics” in their subtitles, this reviewer — a casual observer of local belief systems since the 1990s — found Fabian Graham’s Money God Temples in Taiwan a challenging read. Those who’ve only dipped their toes into temple culture will likely need to parse several sections with special care if they’re to keep up with the author, a British ethnographic researcher whose previous books have investigated religious practices among ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia. This scholarly volume examines a facet of Taiwan’s religious landscape that didn’t exist a century ago, and
RSS