Brookhurst Seafood Bar serves goodness in a bag. Literally. Customers sit down, fasten plastic bibs around their necks, slip on gloves and proceed to rip apart shrimp and lobster swimming in a herb and garlic sauce inside a plastic bag. The goodness doesn’t stop there. Scallops, shrimp and mussels are strewn all over the restaurant’s paper-covered tables. Diners pick and poke at them, chuckling, commiserating and taking selfies with their iPhones which are protected by complimentary zip lock bags.
The owner of the restaurant, Taiwanese-American Wendy Wu (吳欣穎), came up with the concept she calls “grub and chug,” on a trip to Los Angeles last year when she dined at The Boiling Crab, a joint serving seafood in a similar fashion. She wanted the food at Brookhurst to be served with less butter though, and thought it would be helpful to provide gloves and cellphone bags so that diners could still go through their usual routine of uploading food pictures to Facebook and Instagram.
“Today’s generation is phone savvy,” Wu tells the Taipei Times.
Photo: Dana Ter, Taipei Times
Spending the last decade shuttling back and forth between Taipei and Los Angeles, Wu’s career has spanned from being a radio DJ for ICRT to working retail for fashion brands and singing and performing on stage. Her entire right arm is inked (her husband is a tattoo artist/hipster-vintage store owner) and she has an infectious personality.
Once they had their concept, Wu and the restaurant’s other two partners, Lareine Ko (徐瑞蓮) and Johnny Fei (費聿鋒) spent two months perfecting their “secret sauce” in Wu’s kitchen. For months, her house reeked of herbs, garlic and butter.
“I would wake up in the morning sweating the sauce,” Wu says.
Photo: Dana Ter, Taipei Times
Their efforts paid off because the restaurant, which opened in February, was packed on a Tuesday night when a friend and I dined there. The most popular pick is, of course, the seafood bag, otherwise known as their “BS Combo” where customers choose from an assortment of clams, mussels, white shrimp and Hokkaido scallops. Sauce-wise, the lemon zing is recommended for those with lighter palates, while the Brookhurst bang and Cajun sauces are better suited for those who can take the garlic. The spiciness of the sauce can also be adjusted. The smallest combo, the shrimp and shells (NT$999) feeds two people, while the largest combo, the big catch (NT$5,990), which comes with king crab legs, Boston lobster and a selection of shrimp, is suitable for large groups. There is a generous selection of add-ons on the menu, including veggies and meat. The German and smoked sausages (NT$80), which I had, is a fine choice. However, the meal isn’t complete without something to slop up the sauce with. For that, I ordered slices of French baguette (NT$30).
While many restaurants are judged by their presentation — after all, it’s an important element in the overall dining experience — presentation is least paramount at Brookhurst. Being able to dig into your food with your hands and laying it out on the table without plates has its benefits. For starters, it’s easier to see and feel what you’re eating. Not only that, the entire concept of “grub and chug” taps into our innate childlike propensity to have fun and create a mess.
The mussels, Hokkaido scallops and white shrimp complemented each other well. The mussels were cooked in such a way that they were soft, warm and chewy without a discernible tinge of the rubbery. Lightly seared on the outside, the Hokkaido scallops were warm and mildly cod-like on the inside. By contrast, the white shrimp had a robust natural sweetness and subtle buttery texture which paired well with the more neutral flavors of the mussels and scallops. The German and smoked sausages were a fine addition to the seafood bag, adding a juicy, tender dimension.
Photo: Dana Ter, Taipei Times
What pulls it all together, however, is the sauce. Neither too thick nor too watery, the Brookhurst bang was a delightful blend of spices, herbs, garlic and butter. There were hints of paprika, pepper and ginger, making it bold and flavorful. I chose my sauce to be mildly spicy, and that gave it just enough zing without having to compete with the freshness of the seafood. The best way for savoring the sauce was dipping my baguette in it and wiping it clean.
Although Brookhurst might be a no frills seafood bar, it is up there when it comes to thrills. Along with clam shells, proper restaurant etiquette is thrown out the window as hungry diners pick their way through seafood bags. While not exactly the best date night spot, in theory, Brookhurst provides a well-suited venue for catching up with friends and being sloppy without being judged.
“I know it’s cliched to say that food brings people together, but it does,” Wu says.
Photo courtesy of Brookhurst Seafood Bar
She adds that she hopes that the restaurant can help bring friends who have drifted apart — because of marriage, babies or whatever reason — back together, bringing a human touch back to the dining experience.
Sure, I thought as I caught a side-glimpse of the two immaculate girls next to me pausing to take selfies with crab claws every 10 seconds.
Photo courtesy of Brookhurst Seafood Bar
Oct. 27 to Nov. 2 Over a breakfast of soymilk and fried dough costing less than NT$400, seven officials and engineers agreed on a NT$400 million plan — unaware that it would mark the beginning of Taiwan’s semiconductor empire. It was a cold February morning in 1974. Gathered at the unassuming shop were Economics minister Sun Yun-hsuan (孫運璿), director-general of Transportation and Communications Kao Yu-shu (高玉樹), Industrial Technology Research Institute (ITRI) president Wang Chao-chen (王兆振), Telecommunications Laboratories director Kang Pao-huang (康寶煌), Executive Yuan secretary-general Fei Hua (費驊), director-general of Telecommunications Fang Hsien-chi (方賢齊) and Radio Corporation of America (RCA) Laboratories director Pan
The consensus on the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chair race is that Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) ran a populist, ideological back-to-basics campaign and soundly defeated former Taipei mayor Hau Lung-bin (郝龍斌), the candidate backed by the big institutional players. Cheng tapped into a wave of popular enthusiasm within the KMT, while the institutional players’ get-out-the-vote abilities fell flat, suggesting their power has weakened significantly. Yet, a closer look at the race paints a more complicated picture, raising questions about some analysts’ conclusions, including my own. TURNOUT Here is a surprising statistic: Turnout was 130,678, or 39.46 percent of the 331,145 eligible party
President William Lai (賴清德) has championed Taiwan as an “AI Island” — an artificial intelligence (AI) hub powering the global tech economy. But without major shifts in talent, funding and strategic direction, this vision risks becoming a static fortress: indispensable, yet immobile and vulnerable. It’s time to reframe Taiwan’s ambition. Time to move from a resource-rich AI island to an AI Armada. Why change metaphors? Because choosing the right metaphor shapes both understanding and strategy. The “AI Island” frames our national ambition as a static fortress that, while valuable, is still vulnerable and reactive. Shifting our metaphor to an “AI Armada”
The classic warmth of a good old-fashioned izakaya beckons you in, all cozy nooks and dark wood finishes, as tables order a third round and waiters sling tapas-sized bites and assorted — sometimes unidentifiable — skewered meats. But there’s a romantic hush about this Ximending (西門町) hotspot, with cocktails savored, plating elegant and never rushed and daters and diners lit by candlelight and chandelier. Each chair is mismatched and the assorted tables appear to be the fanciest picks from a nearby flea market. A naked sewing mannequin stands in a dimly lit corner, adorned with antique mirrors and draped foliage
RSS