Eating in Taiwan: Beyond Din Tai Fungop of Form

By WSJ Staff

This month, I wrote a story on Taipei’s transformation from a polluted, hectic city-on-the-go to one of Asia’s most pleasant, laid-back capitals. Most travel stories on Taipei focus on its extraordinary dining scene, but I let food take a backseat this time. That was disingenuous: one of the prime motivations to visit Taiwan is to eat—a lot and well. And leave Shilin night market for the amateurs. It’s always good to go with local advice, but even more so in Taiwan.

During my most recent visit, I dragged some friends to a family favorite. Five years ago, I was in the city on assignment for a travel magazine and was being bombarded with unsolicited advice from relatives. My uncle—who, unlike his siblings, was born and bred in Taiwan—promised to show me the place where real Taibei ren (Taipei’ers) go for xiaolongbao. It wasn’t Din Tai Fung, the local chain that has become synonymous with Shanghai’s signature soup dumplings. “Din Tai Fung is for the tourists,” he scoffed.

Kao Chi and Din Tai Fung share similar pedigrees. Both were founded by mainlanders. Both had modest beginnings—Din Tai Fung started as a cooking oil business while Kao Chi began as a street stall. Both tout their bite-size, thin-skinned xiaolongbao filled with rich broth and delicately seasoned pork.

The similarities end there. Din Tai Fung is a global brand thanks to rave reviews, international media exposure and savvy marketing. You can now sate that DTF craving in Jakarta, Sydney and Bellevue, Washington.

It is, in other words, no longer that special. Don’t get me wrong: Din Tai Fung is my standby in Beijing. It’s where I can count on good service and a decent meal without having to worry about the provenance of the ingredients. But in Taipei, DTF—even the original shop on Xinyi Road, which aficionados claim produces superior dumplings—is not on my hit list.

With just three branches in Taipei, Kao Chi isn’t seeking global domination. And despite the swish décor at the Fuxing South Road restaurant (my preferred choice), it feels resolutely local. No tourists were in sight the night we popped by.

Yes, the xiaolongbao are a must, but Kao Chi dabbles in other Shanghainese snacks as well as specialties from other regions in China. (One of the many joys about eating in Taipei is that menus aren’t limited by geography.) At the Fuxing branch, you can order Northern-style pancakes stuffed with beef with Cantonese claypot chicken and Wuxi braised spareribs.

My personal favorites: the xuecai bianjian baiye (snow cabbage with shredded tofu), the fugui dongpo rou (braised and steamed pork belly) and luobo si subing (shredded radish pastry). As a coda, make sure to have the lianghuang jianguo bing—a chestnut-paste-filled, sesame-encrusted pancake, a rebuttal to those who think Taiwanese desserts are just mountains of shaved ice with stuff piled on top.

The pork is a fine example of fusion, Taiwan-style. Though it originates from Hangzhou, the dish arrives with the flat steamed bread used in indigenous snack, guabao, now known as Taiwanese pork belly sliders after being popularized in New York by bad-boy chef Eddie Huang. If the last one doesn’t sound that appealing, think of it this way—the crisp–tender pastry probably comes from lard, and the daikon is subtly spiced and mixed with shredded pork. Have your attention now?

For Advanced Eaters

As Kao Chi demonstrates, despite the plethora of food blogs, you can’t go wrong with local know-how. On a separate visit to Taiwan, we were digging into some superlative jianbao, Shanghainese pork buns—for breakfast when the woman sitting next to me said, “You should try the place next door.”

I’d been noticing that the line at the shop, Xing Long Ju, was growing steadily bigger, so I sent my husband to investigate. Twenty minutes later, he emerged with a Beijing-style jianbing (an eggy crepe) stuffed inside a xiaobing, or sesame flatbread.

Asian breakfasts are usually negligible, watered-down versions of what’s for lunch. Taiwan proves that rule wrong. From fresh doujiang (soy milk) to street-bought scallion pancakes, thinner and more delicate than what you get in Hong Kong or China, you can’t go wrong by going local at breakfast. The xiaobing at Xing Long Ju was probably the best I’ve ever had—still warm, aromatic with toasted sesame seeds, flaky and yet a little tender inside. Another local tip that hit the spot.

If You Go:

Kao Chi No. 150, Fuxing South Rd., Section 1, Da’an district, Taipei. Tel: +886 2 2751 9393.
Xing Long Ju No. 186 Liuhe Second Road, Qianjin district, Kaohsiung. Tel: +886 7 281 8512.

What are your favorite places to eat in Taiwan? Leave your thoughts in the comments, and send your questions to Travel Well at scene@wsj.com with the subject line “Travel.”

Jennifer Chen writes about travel, food and culture. A native New Englander, she’s lived in Taipei, Singapore and Bangkok, and is settling into Beijing. Follow her on Twitter @xiaochen6.