Aside from being the name of a government policy to revitalize engagement with Southeast Asia, “New Southbound” could just as well describe the Taiwanese palate these days.
A growing number of eateries specializing in Southeast Asian cuisines are popping up in Taipei. Recently, a wrong turn took me past Face to Face Noodle House, the first overseas branch of a Malaysian chain that opened with little fanfare in Zhongshan District (中山) in February.
I was magnetized by the sight of the words kedai kopi (Malay for “coffee shop”) emblazoned on the wooden shutters at the entrance of the restaurant. Hailing from Singapore — Malaysia’s closest neighbor — the prospect of Malaysian street food made me almost emotional.
Photo: Davina Tham, Taipei Times
Malaysian and Singaporean dishes like bak kut teh (pork rib soup), curry, nasi lemak (rice cooked in coconut milk) and Hainanese chicken rice have been available in Taipei for a while. But that hasn’t been the case for noodle dishes, until now.
The cultural influence of ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia, who for centuries have settled and integrated into the region, means that a lot of Southeast Asian food occupies a sweet spot just foreign enough, and also just familiar enough, to pique the interest of Taiwanese consumers.
Even on weekday nights, this eatery often sees a small queue of patrons, young and old. It recreates the atmosphere of an open-air coffee shop commonly found in any Malaysian town and city — right down to the candy-colored melamine cutlery — but in the considerably more comfortable, air-conditioned interior of a restaurant.
Photo: Davina Tham, Taipei Times
Face to Face claims to be the home of the original Sarawak noodles (NT$150), named after the state on the island of Borneo in East Malaysia. The ubiquitous Malaysian Chinese dish combines dry Hong Kong-style thin egg noodles, char siu (caramelized barbecued pork) and more minced pork.
The noodles were purportedly invented by the owner’s great-grandfather around the turn of the 20th century, after an apprenticeship with a chef in Hong Kong. Whether that’s true or not, the dish was certainly gratifying. The noodles themselves, on the verge of clumping together, were a bit too dry for me. But that’s where the complimentary soup — a light broth made by simmering dried anchovies, pork bones and soy beans — can be spooned in and tossed around to help loosen things up.
Sarawak noodles may be the signature dish, but what I’ve since made repeat visits for is the dry pan mee (NT$150), thicker noodles topped with anchovies, minced pork and a soft-boiled egg.
Photo: Davina Tham, Taipei Times
Southeast Asian anchovies — bigger than those used in Taiwanese and Japanese cooking — are dried and deep-fried until addictively crunchy and salty. The egg does double duty as a sauce, allowing ingredients to cling to the noodles. A heaping spoonful of the restaurant’s own crispy chili, more fragrant than spicy, is an essential addition to the mix.
Spiciness is so central that there is no one-size-fits-all chili in Southeast Asian cooking. Instead, heat sources are developed specifically to complement the textures and flavor profiles of particular foods.
Crispy chili is appropriate for most of Face to Face’s dishes, including char koay teow (NT$165), flat rice noodles stir-fried with Chinese sausage, prawns and scrambled egg. The version here is very respectable, managing as it does to coax forth the desirable but elusive charred fragrance from cooking in a wok at very high heat.
Photo: Davina Tham, Taipei Times
But the restaurant also makes a mean sambal, a spicier chili paste made from punchy bird’s eye chilis and other aromatics. It’s an essential accompaniment to nasi lemak (NT$180), jasmine rice cooked in rich coconut milk and served with typical sides of fried chicken, fried anchovies, cucumber and egg.
Honorable mention must also be given to the Sarawak-style laksa (NT$170), a bowl of noodles in a sour and spicy coconut milk-based seafood soup that promises lots of personality.
Face to Face’s Taiwan menu is smaller than that at its Malaysian outlets, offering little else beyond the medium-sized selection of noodle and rice-based main dishes. There’s a range of sweetened drinks (NT$70 to NT$140), and the restaurant even makes an effort to perfume each complimentary carafe of water with a pandan leaf.
Photo: Davina Tham, Taipei Times
This mirrors the high degree of specialization of individual stalls in coffee shops, which can get by making just one dish that’s been honed to perfection. Considering the richness of the dishes and their transplantation into a restaurant setting, however, it may be worth the restaurant’s while to include some vegetable-based side dishes, making the meals lighter and more well-rounded.
May 6 to May 12 Those who follow the Chinese-language news may have noticed the usage of the term zhuge (豬哥, literally ‘pig brother,’ a male pig raised for breeding purposes) in reports concerning the ongoing #Metoo scandal in the entertainment industry. The term’s modern connotations can range from womanizer or lecher to sexual predator, but it once referred to an important rural trade. Until the 1970s, it was a common sight to see a breeder herding a single “zhuge” down a rustic path with a bamboo whip, often traveling large distances over rugged terrain to service local families. Not only
Ahead of incoming president William Lai’s (賴清德) inauguration on May 20 there appear to be signs that he is signaling to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and that the Chinese side is also signaling to the Taiwan side. This raises a lot of questions, including what is the CCP up to, who are they signaling to, what are they signaling, how with the various actors in Taiwan respond and where this could ultimately go. In the last column, published on May 2, we examined the curious case of Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) heavyweight Tseng Wen-tsan (鄭文燦) — currently vice premier
The last time Mrs Hsieh came to Cihu Park in Taoyuan was almost 50 years ago, on a school trip to the grave of Taiwan’s recently deceased dictator. Busloads of children were brought in to pay their respects to Chiang Kai-shek (蔣中正), known as Generalissimo, who had died at 87, after decades ruling Taiwan under brutal martial law. “There were a lot of buses, and there was a long queue,” Hsieh recalled. “It was a school rule. We had to bow, and then we went home.” Chiang’s body is still there, under guard in a mausoleum at the end of a path
Last week the Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics (DGBAS) released a set of very strange numbers on Taiwan’s wealth distribution. Duly quoted in the Taipei Times, the report said that “The Gini coefficient for Taiwanese households… was 0.606 at the end of 2021, lower than Australia’s 0.611, the UK’s 0.620, Japan’s 0.678, France’s 0.676 and Germany’s 0.727, the agency said in a report.” The Gini coefficient is a measure of relative inequality, usually of wealth or income, though it can be used to evaluate other forms of inequality. However, for most nations it is a number from .25 to .50