At 6pm, the famous line of customers was not beginning to back up through the kitchen as it normally does. Due to SARS, the food and beverage business is slower all over town, even at Taipei's most famous restaurant, the dumpling shop Din Tai Fung.
But in many ways, the slowdown also has something to do with the fame. Din Tai Fung has in recent years generated much of its business from tourists, with Japanese tourists alone making up one-third of the clientele, according to employee of 13 years Wu Chia-feng (
PHOTO: GEORGE TSORNG, TAIPEI TIMES
"There are fewer tourists," said Wu, adding, "Taiwanese customers don't like to line up. But more people are taking out."
The restaurant started out more than 40 years ago as a street stall selling steamed dumplings and 30 years ago it moved to its present location. The kitchen was put at the entrance, forcing customers to file past white aproned cooks on the way to upper floor dining rooms, a feature that has since become a hallmark.
In 1993 the New York Times named Din Tai Fung one of the world's ten best restaurants, and the decade since has seen expansion, with six franchises added in Japan and one each in Shanghai, Hong Kong and Arcadia, California. Ordering and seating systems are computerized and there is now a Web site.
For many locals, growth has changed the restaurant. "Ding Tai Fung isn't what it used to be," said a woman who works in the area identifying herself as Ms. Huang. "It's really expensive. The price is fine for Japanese, but I think the food is better and cheaper at Kao Chi or Chinchiyuan."
Kao Chi, or Kao's Snack Collection (高記), and Chinchiyuan (金雞園), which are both within two or three minutes walk of Din Tai Fung, have similar menus of very good food, and are definitely cheaper (hsiaolungbao start at NT$100 at Kao's and NT$70 at Chinchiuan, compared to NT$170 at Din Tai Fung).
If you don't want to eat out, like many people recently, the entire menu is also available for take away. There is no delivery, but you can call ahead and your order will be ready in about fifteen minutes.
In the next few months tough decisions will need to be made by the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) and their pan-blue allies in the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT). It will reveal just how real their alliance is with actual power at stake. Party founder Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) faced these tough questions, which we explored in part one of this series, “Ko Wen-je, the KMT’s prickly ally,” (Aug. 16, page 12). Ko was open to cooperation, but on his terms. He openly fretted about being “swallowed up” by the KMT, and was keenly aware of the experience of the People’s First Party
Aug. 25 to Aug. 31 Although Mr. Lin (林) had been married to his Japanese wife for a decade, their union was never legally recognized — and even their daughter was officially deemed illegitimate. During the first half of Japanese rule in Taiwan, only marriages between Japanese men and Taiwanese women were valid, unless the Taiwanese husband formally joined a Japanese household. In 1920, Lin took his frustrations directly to the Ministry of Home Affairs: “Since Japan took possession of Taiwan, we have obeyed the government’s directives and committed ourselves to breaking old Qing-era customs. Yet ... our marriages remain unrecognized,
Not long into Mistress Dispeller, a quietly jaw-dropping new documentary from director Elizabeth Lo, the film’s eponymous character lays out her thesis for ridding marriages of troublesome extra lovers. “When someone becomes a mistress,” she says, “it’s because they feel they don’t deserve complete love. She’s the one who needs our help the most.” Wang Zhenxi, a mistress dispeller based in north-central China’s Henan province, is one of a growing number of self-styled professionals who earn a living by intervening in people’s marriages — to “dispel” them of intruders. “I was looking for a love story set in China,” says Lo,
During the Metal Ages, prior to the arrival of the Dutch and Chinese, a great shift took place in indigenous material culture. Glass and agate beads, introduced after 400BC, completely replaced Taiwanese nephrite (jade) as the ornamental materials of choice, anthropologist Liu Jiun-Yu (劉俊昱) of the University of Washington wrote in a 2023 article. He added of the island’s modern indigenous peoples: “They are the descendants of prehistoric Formosans but have no nephrite-using cultures.” Moderns squint at that dynamic era of trade and cultural change through the mutually supporting lenses of later settler-colonialism and imperial power, which treated the indigenous as