“Best Stromboli you ever have!” reads the catchy caption at the top of Amore Pizzeria’s menu. That wouldn’t have been hard — I’d never had a Stromboli before entering Amore, which opened last month across the street from National Taiwan University on Xinhai Road. But after one bite of the fragrant, moist and meaty concoction that was presented to me 10 minutes after ordering, I was glad I had ordered it.
And there’s more to Amore. “Best pizza in town!” boasts a sign out front — fightin’ words. But they aren’t merely hyperbole. The homemade dough was rolled and baked into a crust that was just the right thickness, slightly crispy around the crimping and underneath, and chewy everywhere else. Mozzarella and a homemade sauce, infused with Italian herbs, covered the pie.
Amore Pizzeria’s space is plain — so plain that one could easily confuse it, as I initially did, for just another cheap knock-off pizza joint playing off guileless university students wanting a quick bite. Brown is the color of choice here: brown booths, brown tables, brown chairs and brown stools running along a brown bar. A few framed pictures — Michelangelo’s David, a caprese salad — break up the monotony.
Photo: Noah Buchan, Taipei Times
Though the decor is drab, Amore’s amiable owner, James Chen (陳建堂), knows what he’s doing. Having learned to cook Italian food in the early 1980s in New Jersey from an old Italian who ran six restaurants, Chen spent the past three decades perfecting what he does best: pizza.
He shuttered his three New Jersey shops in 2008 following the financial downturn, returned to Taipei after a 30-year hiatus and found the pizza here was not to his liking. “What is this ketchup and sugar?” he says.
Chen uses extra-virgin olive oil in his dough (which he blesses, Catholic style, before quartering it off and rolling it up) and in his Caesar salad dressing (which had a rich anchovy and caper finish). He makes the sausage and meatballs himself from scratch — again, learned from the New Jersey Italian — as he does the pasta sauces.
Stromboli is a turnover pizza similar to a calzone, but its dough is thicker. Chen said calzones are often made with ricotta, whereas Stromboli are made with mozzarella. The base is a vegetarian combination of onion, green pepper, tomato sauce and cheese, to which I added pepperoni and sausage (NT$320).
First, a warning: The Stromboli comes to the table piping hot and doesn’t cool off for quite a while, which can be dangerous. Generous slices of slightly spicy pepperoni and peppery sausage were evenly placed throughout the inside, so that a meaty morsel was found in every bite of bread.
Amore’s 12-inch supreme pizza (NT$480) earns its moniker. I haven’t seen so many toppings — sausage, meatball, pepperoni, green pepper and onion — for a long time. It may be possible that there are too many toppings. A rare case of too much of a good thing.
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
It seems every few days one bumps into one of those “real man” comments in which Taiwan is urged to “face reality” or similar, and “make a deal,” with the speaker implying that soon it will be too late. “Deal” advocates always present themselves as having a superior grip on reality, and the manly ability to make the “hard choice.” Their testosterone-laden language often echoes that of Taiwan sellout advocates. Note that such commentary always specifies a process (“make a deal, work with, make progress”), never the end state of what occupation by a violent authoritarian colonialist state will entail. In
June 1 to June 7 "If all Taiwanese were as afraid of dying as you, then what would happen?” Physician Shih Chiang-nan (施江南) reportedly said this to his wife Chen Chiao-tung (陳焦桐) after she urged him to stop intervening on behalf of Taiwanese soldiers stranded overseas after serving in the Japanese Army during World War II. Shih had clashed with high-ranking officials over the issue, engaged in several heated arguments with Taiwan governor-general Chen Yi (陳儀) and allegedly shouted at general Ko Yuan-fen (柯遠芬), chief of staff of the Taiwan Garrison Command, over
“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