Spanish home cooking is now just an MRT and bus ride away. El Patio de Mi Casa, located in an alley near Nanjing East (南京東) and Songjiang (松江) roads, is run by Luis Miguel Hernando and Ramses del Cura Nogal, two thirtysomething Spanish expats.
Before moving to their current locale last December, the pair had operated out of a residential apartment on Jilin Road (吉林路) for two years, serving dinners by reservation for around a dozen people five nights a week.
Word spread quickly about Hernando’s culinary skills and his family recipes, as well as the after-meal entertainment — both Hernando and Nogal are musicians. The two often found themselves turning down customers, and after getting sick of dealing with neighbors complaining about the noise, they finally decided to open a proper restaurant.
Step into their cozy cafe, which seats around 25 people, and the first thing that hits you is a savory aroma from the kitchen.
My dining companions thought it was freshly baked bread, which the restaurant doesn’t serve, but the smell could have been the costillas a la miel (香料白酒蜂蜜肋排, NT$350) — spare ribs with a honey glaze topped with stewed onions and tomatoes.
Hernando says the ribs are marinated ahead of time and slow-roasted for several hours. Aside from the borderline-overwhelming sweetness, this dish was heavenly for its succulent meat, which slid right off the bone.
One basic characteristic of Spanish food is that it’s “cooked slow,” says Hernando. But this probably doesn’t apply to another must-try dish, sepia de la plancha (香煎花枝, NT$200), or pan-seared calamari slices, which were perfectly tender and not in the least bit chewy. And as if its buttery texture weren’t enough, the calamari gets coated with garlic mayonnaise, which is made fresh every day.
For something simple and wholly satisfying, go for the revuelto jardinero (花園炒蛋, NT$220), Spanish-style fried eggs with mushrooms and asparagus. Despite the familiar ingredients, this concoction is a pleasing discovery. The eggs are constantly mixed while in the pan, according to Hernando, which produces a soft and creamy texture.
Hernando describes the tortilla espanola (NT$120 for one serving or NT$600 for a whole pie) as a staple food made of staple ingredients: eggs, potatoes and olive oil. We didn’t order this, but the cake-shaped dish appeared to be a popular choice, judging by a glance at neighboring tables.
The menu, which is in Spanish and Chinese, also lists tapas-style dishes such as datil con jamon iberico (伊比利火腿椰棗, Iberian cured ham with dates, NT$100). We enjoyed both the setas y champis a la plancha (乾煎蘑菇香菇, pan-fried shitake and white button mushrooms cooked with white wine, NT$180) and tomato asado (鐵烤番茄, roasted tomatoes stuffed with pork, NT$100).
The restaurant also honors off-menu requests made in advance, including gazpacho and cocido madrileno, a traditional Spanish stew.
Smaller parties are at a disadvantage, only because they can sample fewer dishes. And they might miss out on trying the seafood paella (NT$1,000 per serving), which is only served for at least four persons. Sangria is available by the pot for NT$800, as well as Spanish wines (NT$200 to NT$300 per glass, NT$1,000 to NT$2,500 per bottle).
The wait staff seemed hurried, but the service was very efficient. Our food arrived quickly and with little lag time between dishes.
Hernando and Nogal say their loyal customers have followed them to their new locale. But they admit they can’t help but miss the intimacy of working out of a private apartment, where guests could mingle in the kitchen and watch them cook.
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
It seems every few days one bumps into one of those “real man” comments in which Taiwan is urged to “face reality” or similar, and “make a deal,” with the speaker implying that soon it will be too late. “Deal” advocates always present themselves as having a superior grip on reality, and the manly ability to make the “hard choice.” Their testosterone-laden language often echoes that of Taiwan sellout advocates. Note that such commentary always specifies a process (“make a deal, work with, make progress”), never the end state of what occupation by a violent authoritarian colonialist state will entail. In
There are shadowy cabals plotting to sell out Taiwan to be annexed by China, by invasion if necessary. Fortunately, they are buffoons. In 2019, former Bamboo Union gangster and founder of the China Unification Promotion Party (CUPP), Chang An-le (張安樂, colorfully known as “White Wolf”), led a protest at the Legislative Yuan against comments made by then-premier Su Tseng-chang (蘇貞昌) that in the event of an attack by China, he would never surrender, but would protect the nation by fighting to the end, even if he only had a broom. Chang had party members bring a wooden casket that they
June 1 to June 7 "If all Taiwanese were as afraid of dying as you, then what would happen?” Physician Shih Chiang-nan (施江南) reportedly said this to his wife Chen Chiao-tung (陳焦桐) after she urged him to stop intervening on behalf of Taiwanese soldiers stranded overseas after serving in the Japanese Army during World War II. Shih had clashed with high-ranking officials over the issue, engaged in several heated arguments with Taiwan governor-general Chen Yi (陳儀) and allegedly shouted at general Ko Yuan-fen (柯遠芬), chief of staff of the Taiwan Garrison Command, over