Taiwan

Notes on Sugarcane Straws in Taiwan

In a Taiwanese café, a straw with a slightly rough surface slips into an iced bubble tea. It looks neither like paper nor plastic, yet stays firm as tapioca pearls pass through it.

Notes on Sealed Lids in Taiwan

A Taiwanese takeaway drink often leaves the counter with no opening at all: its top is a taut sheet of film, meant to be pierced by a straw and shaken before the first sip. It may then hang in a plastic bag from a moving scooter, still sealed.

Notes on Hot Soy Milk in Taiwan

By eight in the morning, Kaohsiung’s concrete is still giving back the night’s heat, and sweat gathers on the back of a plastic chair. At the next table, a runner in a sleeveless shirt lowers a crisp youtiao into a steaming bowl of soy milk.

Notes on the Origins of Taiwanese Oyster Omelet

At a night-market griddle, oysters, egg, greens, and a cloudy starch batter arrive as one soft, uneven plate. It looks like a snack assembled in minutes, but each part belongs to a different landscape of Taiwan.

Notes on Oyster Omelets in Taiwan

At a Taiwanese night-market griddle, oysters can disappear beneath a loose pile of greens and a translucent layer of starch. The same plate is soft and elastic in the middle, with a thin crisp edge where the batter meets the oil.

Notes on Sweet Potato Balls in Taiwan

At the edge of a Taiwanese night market, a vendor presses golden and purple sweet potato balls against the wok until they seem ready to collapse. Instead, the spheres grow larger, their surfaces tightening around an empty center.

Notes on Sweet Potatoes in Taiwan

In Taiwan, sweet potato rarely stays recognizable as a sweet potato. It disappears into the springy skin of a dumpling, the brittle coating on fried chicken, and the hollow chew of a night-market ball.

Notes on Blanched Greens in Taiwan

At a Taiwanese diner, a plate of greens can arrive beside braised pork rice and meatball soup looking less like a salad than a green base for pork fat, fried shallots, garlic, and sweet soy. The vegetable is present, but its final character comes from everything poured over it.

Notes on the Taiwanese Drink Holder

In Taipei, a cold drink often hangs from someone’s wrist in a small fabric loop. The loop grips the cup halfway up, leaving its bottom completely exposed.

Notes on Wheel Cakes in Taiwan

Across Taiwan, the same round iron mold produces wheel cakes filled with red bean, peppery pork, cheese, or even a whole cookie. Their shells are thin enough to crack at the first bite, leaving the filling—not the cake—to define what is being eaten.