Most people associate Budai (布袋) in the southwestern corner of Chiayi County with fish, but that isn’t the township’s only claim to fame. It’s an excellent place to see waterbirds, among them the endangered black-faced spoonbill. There are also relics of the now-defunct salt industry.
Ecotourism and history are two of my favorite pastimes, but last week’s excursion was devoted to buying and eating seafood. I hadn’t been to Budai Harbor Fish Market (布袋港魚市場) for some years, and as we drove toward the town, I wondered if it had changed much.
Despite the striking success of the makeover that transformed part of Taipei Fish Market into Addiction Aquatic Development (AAD, 上引水產), it turned out I was right in predicting that the people running Budai Harbor Fish Market hadn’t pushed through dramatic reforms. Or even minor adjustments, for that matter.
Photo: Steven Crook
If they visited AAD, they perhaps weren’t impressed by its soft, boutique hotel-style lighting. In Budai’s fresh-seafood emporium, as in most of Taiwan’s markets, your eyes have to constantly adjust between dank gloom and the white glare of naked light bulbs. The 40-odd eateries that operate inside the market do a roaring trade on weekends, so there’s no pressing reason to update the menus or refresh the decor. Southern folks tend to be conservative. Who wants premium sakes when you’ve got Taiwan Beer?
Having satisfied myself that nothing significant had changed, I set out to take photos in the fresh-produce area in the center of the market. Squeamish individuals may dislike the bloody fish heads, but I think local markets are visually delightful.
I also hoped to learn a bit more about seafood in Taiwan. I’ve never been much into eating creatures pulled out of the ocean, so I’ve not tried to remember the relevant vocabularly in English or Chinese.
Photo: Steven Crook
The shallow waters just off Budai are dotted with bamboo platforms on which oysters are raised, and on busy days visitors to the market get through hundreds of oyster omelets (蚵仔煎). Identical omelets are available in night markets throughout Taiwan, but deep-fried oyster-filled bao (蚵仔包) are a true Budai specialty. One bao is a substantial snack; eat two and you mightn’t need any dinner.
If you’re looking for gifts for foodie friends here in Taiwan, what English and Italian-speakers call bottarga is an option. (I’d advise against trying to take it to North America or Europe because there’s no guarantee you’ll get it through customs.) In Chinese, it’s known as wuyuzi, (烏魚子, “black mullet roe’), and it’s made by deveining roe, salting and sun-drying it, and then pressing it so it’s as hard as cheddar. Under the name “Mullet bottarga of Kaohsiung County,” it’s recognized by the Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity’s Ark of Taste as a Taiwanese foodway which dates from at least the 1624-1662 Dutch occupation of the Tainan area. It isn’t cheap; in the market, one catty (斤, jin, equal to 600 grams) costs up to NT$600.
If you’ve never had it, dried fish floss (魚鬆, yusong) is somewhat like the super-fine shredded pork that’s often added to congee. This product can be made from different fish, including marlin (the floss is a rich shade of orange) and bummalo (a lighter, sandier color). A couple of vendors manufacture small amounts on the spot.
Photo: Steven Crook
There were also piles of tiny dried shrimps, freshly-caught grouper, slabs of imported salmon, and rows of mud crabs. The claws and legs of every crustacean were tied, even though it looked like the great majority of them had long given up the struggle. Ready-cooked items, popular in households where both parents are too busy with jobs to prepare meals from scratch, were also numerous.
One stall specializes in Japanese Spanish mackerel from the Penghu Islands, a fish whose flesh is often cut into chunks, battered with potato starch, deep fried, then served in a thick soup. Taiwanese know this hefty fish as tutuoyu (土魠魚). According to the “Taiwan Seafood Choice Guide” published by Academia Sinica at fishdb.sinica.edu.tw/eng/seafoodguide.php, consumers should think twice before ordering it because of fisheries-management issues.
Not all of the fresh food sold in the market qualifies as seafood. I noticed the corpses of a dozen big black frogs on top of a bucket filled with ice. The vendor — the only person working in the market who spoke to me in English — told me that these amphibians are farmed in Taiwan, not taken from the wild, and that they’re best enjoyed cooked in soup with lots of onion.
Photo: Steven Crook
Wanting to walk off our lunch, we made our way to one of the region’s more unusual sights. The High-Heel Wedding Church (高跟鞋教堂) is the centerpiece of a park bordered by Wenchang Street (文昌街) and Haixing Street (海興街), about 800m southwest of the fish market. Strictly speaking, it isn’t a house of worship, although weddings are sometimes held beneath its translucent blue roof.
The 17.8m-high, 25.2m-long open-sided structure was built by the Southwest Coast National Scenic Area Administration to attract tourists to the town. Judging by the number of people there last week, like the fish market, it’s still doing very well.
Steven Crook has been writing about travel, culture, and business in Taiwan since 1996. He is the co-author of A Culinary History of Taipei: Beyond Pork and Ponlai, and author of Taiwan: The Bradt Travel Guide, the third edition of which has just been published.
Photo: Steven Crook
Photo: Steven Crook
When the South Vietnamese capital of Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese forces 50 years ago this week, it prompted a mass exodus of some 2 million people — hundreds of thousands fleeing perilously on small boats across open water to escape the communist regime. Many ultimately settled in Southern California’s Orange County in an area now known as “Little Saigon,” not far from Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, where the first refugees were airlifted upon reaching the US. The diaspora now also has significant populations in Virginia, Texas and Washington state, as well as in countries including France and Australia.
On April 17, Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) launched a bold campaign to revive and revitalize the KMT base by calling for an impromptu rally at the Taipei prosecutor’s offices to protest recent arrests of KMT recall campaigners over allegations of forgery and fraud involving signatures of dead voters. The protest had no time to apply for permits and was illegal, but that played into the sense of opposition grievance at alleged weaponization of the judiciary by the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) to “annihilate” the opposition parties. Blamed for faltering recall campaigns and faced with a KMT chair
Article 2 of the Additional Articles of the Constitution of the Republic of China (中華民國憲法增修條文) stipulates that upon a vote of no confidence in the premier, the president can dissolve the legislature within 10 days. If the legislature is dissolved, a new legislative election must be held within 60 days, and the legislators’ terms will then be reckoned from that election. Two weeks ago Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (蔣萬安) of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) proposed that the legislature hold a vote of no confidence in the premier and dare the president to dissolve the legislature. The legislature is currently controlled
Dull functional structures dominate Taiwan’s cityscapes. But that’s slowly changing, thanks to talented architects and patrons with deep pockets. Since the start of the 21st century, the country has gained several alluring landmark buildings, including the two described below. NUNG CHAN MONASTERY Dharma Drum Mountain (法鼓山, DDM) is one of Taiwan’s most prominent religious organizations. Under the leadership of Buddhist Master Sheng Yen (聖嚴), who died in 2009, it developed into an international Buddhist foundation active in the spiritual, cultural and educational spheres. Since 2005, DDM’s principal base has been its sprawling hillside complex in New Taipei City’s Jinshan District (金山). But
RSS