Food is one of the main reasons I travel. Since I went to Taiwan the first time, my palate has really started to open up. I especially like to try local places, as you can probably guess from my last post. Having a friend who can speak the language truly makes local options a lot easier.
There is no better way to learn about how people live their daily lives, than to taste some of the food that they eat every day. So yesterday morning, we went to a traditional soymilk breakfast place… it was amazing.
The restaurant looks inconspicuous from the front – a large, faded banner placed above a red and white striped awning… the store front was very practical. As soon as you arrive, you’re faced with a large steel vent emerging from what looks like the bench of an open kitchen, white industrial fans hang from the ceiling, and simple glass cabinets display pre-prepared dishes. If it were anywhere else it would look too rough around the edges… but somehow in Taipei it has a certain thrown together style.
For me, it really demonstrates how committed these local places are to providing their customers with good food rather than worrying about aesthetic or charm.
My friend ordered our food, which we received in plastic bags. We then placed the food on dark brown plastic trays, where two big bowls of steaming soy milk were also waiting for us.
Carrying one tray each, we shuffle carefully inside and to the back, where a half dozen tables and a dozen little stools are arranged in neat lines.
It looked slightly chaotic but clean. The floor was a black and white speckled concrete, the white walls were pasted over with pink floral designs, the tables and stools were a loud yellow. Lining one side of the establishment were appliances, a mix of grey stainless steel and bright red.
Like a work of art, the bright colours complemented the constant movement within. The staff out the front were continually serving the ever replenishing line of customers looking to fill their hungry stomachs. Meanwhile, the staff in support were moving through the dining area quickly and often.
A man just to the right of me was gently kneading and stretching dough at a work bench. One man, carrying a big box of packaged flatbread, walked closely past me and kicked a white plastic concertina door aside. The door remained open and so I peered in.
There were two small rooms skirted with plastic and steel cooking equipment and cupboards… and hidden right at the back was a big, wooden barrel leaking steam from under its lid. I guess it would have contained rice. It looked ancient and therefore out of place for me, like something you’d find in a kitchen from a century ago.
In that moment, I saw a contrast between the old ways of cooking and new technology. Between the hardness of steel or plastic and the natural soothing pattern of woodgrain. It’s one of those moments I decide not to film, and simply enjoy.
I turn my attention back to my friend, who is now teaching me how to eat this breakfast. She bought us two big sticks of fried bread, similar to churros, and advised that I dip it into my bowl of soy milk. It tastes amazing – light, fluffy and slightly sweet.
Next we move onto the fried flat bread, folded with scrambled egg slotted inside. I’m instructed to put my half-eaten churro alongside the egg and commence eating, so I do – and it’s crunchy and flavoursome! I want to finish it all, but there is something else waiting for me.
I don’t quite know how to describe it other than say that it is a burrito – but imagine that the flat bread is actually a layer of sticky rice. Inside this deliciously chewy coating is the same churro bread, but this one is twice fried so it’s super crispy. It’s accompanied by pork floss and spiced, chopped turnip. The contrast in texture was satisfying – chewy and crunchy – and the mixture of salty and sweet certainly gave my tastebuds a work out.
We were then interrupted by two men who wanted to sit at the table right beside us. They slid into the small space between my back and the wall, and seated themselves opposite an older couple who appeared to be their parents. Another young man sat on the stool next to my friend. It seemed to be a family breakfast, three boys and their parents.
In that moment, it reminded me of all the brunches I’d had with my Mum in Australia. I realised that the Taiwanese probably place as much importance on breakfast as Australians do. Despite the food being very different, there seemed to be a distinct similarity from one culture to the next.
The restaurant started to get crowded, but that only added to the atmosphere. It was loud, lively, and I was eating great food. I’m reminded from this experience that it’s certainly the simple things in life which bring us the most joy.
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