Precision is required when meeting friends for a meal at Mei Wei Eatery. There are four restaurants operating under the same name in different parts of the capital. Each claims kinship with the original establishment on Shaoxing South Street (紹興南街) that had served Jiangzhe cuisine (江浙菜) for over three decades before being torn down several years ago.
A quick search on the Internet finds myriad comments and fierce debate over which Mei Wei Eatery is the most authentic. But as most foodie bloggers agree, the offshoot run by the eldest son of the original’s proprietor on Jinshan South Road (金山南路) doesn’t deviate from its precursor’s fare, and that was the one my dining companions and I visited on Sunday of last week.
Like its forbearer, this eatery is noted for its fish hot pot casserole (砂鍋魚頭, NT$750) and lion’s head meatballs (獅子頭), which can be ordered in a casserole (NT$750), a pot dish (NT$300) or individually (NT$130 each).
For the main course, we tried the fish casserole with two lion’s heads and were startled when the waitress delivered the dish. The meatballs were almost as big as a grown man’s fist. A giant chub fish head, deep-fried then simmered, was buried underneath layers of tofu, ham, Chinese cabbage, mushrooms and mung bean noodles (粉絲).
More than enough for a party of four, the casserole won unanimous approval. The cabbage, marinated with vinegar and pepper, delivered a sour and spicy tang that gave life to what could have been an overly heavy dish. Usually super-sensitive to the taste of seafood, I gladly found no fishiness in the pot.
The signature lion’s head also lived up to its reputation as ubertender.
Other strongly flavored dishes, which go well with cold Taiwan beer, include dry-fried green beans (乾扁四季豆, NT$160) and garlic squid (香蒜中卷, NT$260), which is deep-fried, then stir-fried with garlic and spices. For a milder option, there’s shredded pork with lapi (肉絲拉皮, NT$120), which is a popular summer dish made from a mixture of wasabe and sesame paste and lapi, or mung bean flour noodles.
In keeping with its recipes, which adhere to traditional cooking techniques, the restaurant is a plain, family-style affair; while not for aesthetes, Mei Wei Eatery is a reasonable place to eat in the city if a sitting among middle-aged men playing traditional drinking games doesn’t grate.
The other three Mei Wei eateries are run by the restaurant founder’s daughter, former chef and neighbor.
The Lee (李) family migrated to Taiwan in trickles many decades ago. Born in Myanmar, they are ethnically Chinese and their first language is Yunnanese, from China’s Yunnan Province. Today, they run a cozy little restaurant in Taipei’s student stomping ground, near National Taiwan University (NTU), serving up a daily pre-selected menu that pays homage to their blended Yunnan-Burmese heritage, where lemongrass and curry leaves sit beside century egg and pickled woodear mushrooms. Wu Yun (巫雲) is more akin to a family home that has set up tables and chairs and welcomed strangers to cozy up and share a meal
The second floor of an unassuming office building in central Bangkok is a strange place to encounter the world’s largest rodent. Yet here, inside a small enclosure with a shallow pool, three capybaras are at the disposal of dozens of paying customers, all clamoring for a selfie. As people eagerly thrust leafy snacks toward the nonchalant-looking animals, few seem to consider the underlying peculiarity: how did this South American rodent end up over 10,000 miles from home, in a bustling Asian metropolis? Capybara cafes have been cropping up across the continent in recent years, driven by the animal’s growing internet fame.
President William Lai (賴清德) has proposed a NT$1.25 trillion (US$40 billion) special eight-year budget that intends to bolster Taiwan’s national defense, with a “T-Dome” plan to create “an unassailable Taiwan, safeguarded by innovation and technology” as its centerpiece. This is an interesting test for the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), and how they handle it will likely provide some answers as to where the party currently stands. Naturally, the Lai administration and his Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) are for it, as are the Americans. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is not. The interests and agendas of those three are clear, but
Dec. 8 to Dec. 14 Chang-Lee Te-ho (張李德和) had her father’s words etched into stone as her personal motto: “Even as a woman, you should master at least one art.” She went on to excel in seven — classical poetry, lyrical poetry, calligraphy, painting, music, chess and embroidery — and was also a respected educator, charity organizer and provincial assemblywoman. Among her many monikers was “Poetry Mother” (詩媽). While her father Lee Chao-yuan’s (李昭元) phrasing reflected the social norms of the 1890s, it was relatively progressive for the time. He personally taught Chang-Lee the Chinese classics until she entered public
RSS