Entering from a darkened alleyway, True Bao Maker (有情出包所) hits us with a blast of neon-bright pop-art posters and manga-packed shelves; speakers pump kitschy J-pop while the TV replays anime classics; zingy decor bursting with the Japanese cool of a backstreet Osaka hideout.
Owner Eric Weng (翁竹熲) welcomes us in with a smile and seats us on plastic stools at the open-top-bar, where we get acquainted with him and his childhood friend Alex Huang (黃國勳), a tattoo artist who designed the space using some of Weng’s wacky personal collection. But these guys aren’t just passionate about Japan, they’re dedicated to elevating a Taiwanese classic to a new dimension.
Gua bao (割包). Hailed as Taiwan’s “most world-famous street-food snack” by the Michelin Guide and coined the “Taiwanese hamburger,” this night-market staple features a pillowy bao bun stuffed with fatty pork belly, cilantro, pickled mustard greens and that signature dusting of finely ground peanut.
Photo: Hollie Younger
This delicacy, delicious as it is, requires an affinity for cilantro and gelatinous hunks of pork fat — a tricky feat for many foreigners, myself included.
Perhaps the bao buns we’re more accustomed to are the hybrid burger variety sweeping the Western world, stuffed with fried chicken, shredded duck, any beloved east-Asian culinary caricature. This is where funky fusion venue True Bao Maker fills Taipei’s gap in the market.
BURGERS, BUNS AND BEERS
Photo: Hollie Younger
Tonight was my second foray. I came across it by happenstance on a hungry evening around Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall, but a 4.9-star rating on Google reviews is never to be ignored.
First things first, we grab a cool draft pint of locally-brewed Taihu lager — do we want a sake bomb dropped in? Why not — and Weng translates us through the menu, bun by bun.
The cartoon pop-art menu offers four savory and two sweet bao burgers, including vegetarian offerings, sides of fries or fried pumpkin bites and a beef rice bowl, all available in good-value combo sets (NT$180+).
Photo: Hollie Younger
My recommendation is the meatball bao special (NT$150), a true east meets west concoction. Three crispy Italian-style meatballs of hearty ground beef, lashings of rich red wine sauce, American cheese and lettuce — fused with Asian flavors of cilantro, ground peanut, scrambled egg and that perfectly fluffy bao bun to hold it all together. This shouldn’t work, but it’s a fusion masterpiece.
The signature here is the spicy beef bao burger (NT$129); slow-cooked, melt-in-the-mouth with an explosive crimson red, house-made chili sauce. Unless you order medium, this will blow your head off, which is exactly what I was after.
The closest to its gua bao prototype would be the fried pork bao burger with orange sauce (NT$120). Forget Panda Express Orange chicken — we’re talking fresh, punchy citrus glaze that zaps through glistening slices of fried pork — still a gloriously fatty belly cut but with a modern upgrade. Anyone underwhelmed by a night-market bao bun, try this.
Photo: Hollie Younger
Weng says that the venture began as a food truck, and after almost two years of success on the road, they set up here in 2022. On weekdays, head for a solo lunch date perusing his extensive manga collection, but on Fridays, he says this place transforms into an open-door house party for friends and patrons to meet, greet and chow down.
After a double ordering of burgers, we pay a reasonably-priced bill and roll out feeling rather like overstuffed bao buns ourselves. “See you Friday!” Weng calls out. He just might.
For many people, Bilingual Nation 2030 begins and ends in the classroom. Since the policy was launched in 2018, the debate has centered on students, teachers and the pressure placed on schools. Yet the policy was never solely about English education. The government’s official plan also calls for bilingualization in Taiwan’s government services, laws and regulations, and living environment. The goal is to make Taiwan more inclusive and accessible to international enterprises and talent and better prepared for global economic and trade conditions. After eight years, that grand vision is due for a pulse check. RULES THAT CAN BE READ For Harper Chen (陳虹宇), an adviser
Traditionally, indigenous people in Taiwan’s mountains practice swidden cultivation, or “slash and burn” agriculture, a practice common in human history. According to a 2016 research article in the International Journal of Environmental Sustainability, among the Atayal people, this began with a search for suitable forested slopeland. The trees are burnt for fertilizer and the land cleared of stones. The stones and wood are then piled up to make fences, while both dead and standing trees are retained on the plot. The fences are used to grow climbing crops like squash and beans. The plot itself supports farming for three years.
The breakwater stretches out to sea from the sprawling Kaohsiung port in southern Taiwan. Normally, it’s crowded with massive tankers ferrying liquefied natural gas from Qatar to be stored in the bulbous white tanks that dot the shoreline. These are not normal times, though, and not a single shipment from Qatar has docked at the Yongan terminal since early March after the Strait of Hormuz was shuttered. The suspension has provided a realistic preview of a potential Chinese blockade, a move that would throttle an economy anchored by the world’s most advanced and power-hungry semiconductor industry. It is a stark reminder of
May 4 to May 10 It was once said that if you hadn’t performed at the Sapphire Grand Cabaret (藍寶石大歌廳), you couldn’t truly be considered a star. Taking the stage at the legendary Kaohsiung club was more than just a concert. Performers were expected to entertain in every sense, wearing outlandish or revealing costumes and staying quick on their feet as sharp-tongued, over-the-top hosts asked questions and delivered jokes that would be seen as vulgar, even offensive, by today’s standards. Opening in May 1967 during a period of strict political and social control, Sapphire offered a rare outlet for audiences in