Overshadowed by competitor Din Tai Fung (鼎泰豐), Kao-Chi (高記) is simultaneously one of Taipei’s best-known restaurant chains — and one of its better-kept secrets. Kao-Chi’s three-story flagship location on Yongkang Street (永康街) is located just around the corner from Din Tai Fung and serves many of the same Shanghai-style favorites. Kao-Chi lacks the waiting crowd of tourists that usually jams the sidewalk in front of Din Tai Fung, but unless you consider standing outside in the heat next to idling tour buses appetizing, that’s hardly a loss.
Kao-Chi, which opened eight years before Din Tai Fung in 1950, started out as a snack stand selling treats from Shanghai, where its founder lived before the Chinese Civil War. The front of the restaurant still features a take-out case with some of Kao-Chi’s desserts. Like its more famous rival, Kao-Chi is also known for xiaolongbao (小龍包), or juicy soup dumplings, and its version is just as tasty as those served at Din Tai Fung, but don’t cost as much.
Xiaolongbao, or “steamed buns” as they are called on Kao-Chi’s menu, stuffed with just pork (元籠小籠包) are NT$180 for 10, but the crab egg and pork version (蟹黃小籠包, NT$280) is worth the extra NT$100 for the boost of flavor that the crab roe and “mustard” add to each dumpling.
For the uninitiated, xiaolongbao are best eaten by nibbling off a tiny bit of the wrapper near the bottom and letting the rich broth inside spill into a soup spoon to sip after the dumpling is finished. The broth inside Kao-Chi’s xiaolongbao was wonderfully rich and ample (there’s nothing more dissatisfying than a dry soup dumpling).
The restaurant’s xiaolongbao overshadows other dumplings on Kao-Chi’s menu, but most are also very good. A good complement to the soup dumplings is Kao-Chi’s zhaopai (招牌), or signature, special giant shrimp steamed dumplings (高記蝦餃皇, NT$120). Try rounding out your meal with yummy amaranth and tofu soup (莧菜豆腐羹, NT$220), which is filling but still light enough for summer. The Kao-Chi special spicy and sour soup (高式酸辣湯, NT$120) is also satisfying.
The only disappointment on a recent meal there was the shrimp and leek sprouts wrap (韭黃蝦仁腸粉, NT$120), which is part of Kao-Chi’s Hong Kong-style dim sum menu. The rice wrapper was tender and the shrimps and leeks were both excellent, but the sauce the wraps were drizzled in was so bland and watery that it cancelled out the dish’s appeal.
Kao-Chi’s selection of desserts is worth checking out if you aren’t planning a trip to the neighboring Ice Monster (冰館) for some shaved ice. The egg yolk and cream bun (極品流沙包, NT$120), a variation on the classic Hong Kong liushabao, is soft mantou bread wrapped around golden, runny custard. Devotees of the classic liushabao made with sweet sesame seeds might be disappointed by the egg yolk and cream’s relative lack of texture and more subtle flavor, but the freshness of the mantou and the richness of the custard make up for it.
Many people noticed the flood of pro-China propaganda across a number of venues in recent weeks that looks like a coordinated assault on US Taiwan policy. It does look like an effort intended to influence the US before the meeting between US President Donald Trump and Chinese dictator Xi Jinping (習近平) over the weekend. Jennifer Kavanagh’s piece in the New York Times in September appears to be the opening strike of the current campaign. She followed up last week in the Lowy Interpreter, blaming the US for causing the PRC to escalate in the Philippines and Taiwan, saying that as
US President Donald Trump may have hoped for an impromptu talk with his old friend Kim Jong-un during a recent trip to Asia, but analysts say the increasingly emboldened North Korean despot had few good reasons to join the photo-op. Trump sent repeated overtures to Kim during his barnstorming tour of Asia, saying he was “100 percent” open to a meeting and even bucking decades of US policy by conceding that North Korea was “sort of a nuclear power.” But Pyongyang kept mum on the invitation, instead firing off missiles and sending its foreign minister to Russia and Belarus, with whom it
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has a dystopian, radical and dangerous conception of itself. Few are aware of this very fundamental difference between how they view power and how the rest of the world does. Even those of us who have lived in China sometimes fall back into the trap of viewing it through the lens of the power relationships common throughout the rest of the world, instead of understanding the CCP as it conceives of itself. Broadly speaking, the concepts of the people, race, culture, civilization, nation, government and religion are separate, though often overlapping and intertwined. A government
Nov. 3 to Nov. 9 In 1925, 18-year-old Huang Chin-chuan (黃金川) penned the following words: “When will the day of women’s equal rights arrive, so that my talents won’t drift away in the eastern stream?” These were the closing lines to her poem “Female Student” (女學生), which expressed her unwillingness to be confined to traditional female roles and her desire to study and explore the world. Born to a wealthy family on Nov. 5, 1907, Huang was able to study in Japan — a rare privilege for women in her time — and even made a name for herself in the
RSS