With five locations in Taipei, Hi Sushi (海壽司) is a step up in quality (but just a step) above the ubiquitous chain Sushi Express. Both restaurants offer self-serve conveyor belt sushi, but Hi Sushi’s prices are higher and its menu slightly more extensive. The fun of eating in these restaurants is picking plates of sushi as they come gliding past you, but on weekdays and during off hours on weekends, diners in the Hi Sushi in Taipei 101 have to order most of their food off of a menu. Without the novelty of the self-serve format, Hi Sushi’s sushi becomes just inexpensive (and slightly boring) sushi.
The secret to eating at conveyor belt sushi restaurants without accidentally spending a fortune is to load up on lower-priced basics. Hi Sushi does most of the basic nigiri, like eel (鰻魚), squid (花枝) and salmon (鮭魚) well (all NT$60 per plate), with the latter two being standouts for quality. The tuna nigiri (鮪魚), however, was sliced too thin and was generally lifeless with little flavor.
Hi Sushi does a better job with its shellfish sashimi. Its freshwater shrimp nigiri (甜蝦, NT$80) was very sweet and topped with salmon roe, and its scallop nigiri (干貝, NT$100) was also very good. The restaurant’s more adventurous selections, however, are hit and miss. Its lobster salad tasted like a 7-Eleven rice ball when made into nigiri (龍蝦沙拉, NT$40), but was more successful as a hand roll wrapped in crispy seaweed (NT$40). The restaurant was out of California rolls (加州捲, NT$40) every time I visited last week, but the server recommended Hi Sushi jumbo rolls (花壽司, NT$60) as a substitute. The giant sushi roll is stuffed with an assortment of sundry food items including pickles, imitation crab meat and tamago, or cooked egg, but the thunder was taken away from it by the cling wrap that I had to unpeel first and very clammy and hard sushi rice, which made it clear that the roll was not freshly made and had probably made plenty of rounds on the conveyor belt before I got to it.
Hi Sushi also has a couple of items that make liberal use of mentaiko, or marinated cod roe, and mayonnaise sauce including squid with mentaiko (NT$60) and shrimp with mentaiko nigiri (NT$100). On a recent visit, the Taipei 101 Hi Sushi also had bowls of chopped squid meat liberally drizzled in mentaiko (NT$100), which resembled macaroni and cheese, on its conveyor belt. The macaroni probably would have been a better substitute for the squid meat, which was completely lost underneath the very salty and creamy sauce.
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) hatched a bold plan to charge forward and seize the initiative when he held a protest in front of the Taipei City Prosecutors’ Office. Though risky, because illegal, its success would help tackle at least six problems facing both himself and the KMT. What he did not see coming was Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (將萬安) tripping him up out of the gate. In spite of Chu being the most consequential and successful KMT chairman since the early 2010s — arguably saving the party from financial ruin and restoring its electoral viability —
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,
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