Notes on the corners
of the world
Before sunrise, red-and-yellow signs glow above small breakfast shops while eggs, buns, and thin patties meet the same broad griddle. Several of these places bear the name Mei & Mei, though the sign does not always point to the same business.
At the edge of KL Sentral, two ABC signs glow red and blue beside the road into Brickfields. A narrow alley separates the entrances, but from the station side they read almost as one brightly lit place.
At a small Taiwanese eatery, a seasoning bottle has to be tilted and held before its black contents begin to move. The sauce lands on breakfast cakes, boiled greens, meat, and even sliced tomatoes with the slow weight of syrup, more like a coating than a seasoning.
On Campbell Street, a bright yellow-and-green shophouse draws tourists to its doorway while regulars move through it without stopping. Inside, the curry arrives with the dense, freshly ground scent of a spice stall rather than a display preserved for visitors.
The 2011 Taiwan edition of the Michelin Green Guide gave lurou fan only a few lines, but one of them placed the dish’s origin in Shandong. Soon, an everyday bowl served at food stalls was being defended in city halls, newspapers, and a thousand free servings.
Curry has blurred the fried chicken, egg, and okra into one brown plate, but the cashier names a price almost before it reaches the counter. The judgment leaves no visible calculation—and no receipt explaining it.
Curry has blurred the fried chicken, egg, and okra into one brown plate, but the cashier names a price almost before it reaches the counter. The judgment leaves no visible calculation—and no receipt explaining it.
At a Taiwanese breakfast shop, the careful order is iced soy milk with half sugar. Nearby, black tea soy milk waits in a metal container already mixed, chilled, and fully sweetened, leaving no room to negotiate with the cup.
At the end of a night market, empty bubble-tea cups gather beside the bins, their remaining pearls hidden under melting ice. A single drink makes them easy to overlook; multiplied across Taiwan, the beads become a different kind of object.
