An Accounting System for Guilt
At the start of the meal, I order blanched greens, known locally as tang qingcai.
Braised pork rice and meatball soup line the table.
Steam rises, but the colors stay mostly brown.
At this point, many people make the same addition.
A plate of greens.
By placing vegetables on the table,
the meal feels balanced.
Nutritionally, and psychologically.
In Taiwanese diners, it is rare to regret this choice.
The taste is predictable.
The portion is measured.
It never becomes the focus.
But it always fulfills its role.
Those expecting a Japanese-style dressed vegetable or a salad may hesitate.
Boiled, Then Intentionally Soiled
The cooking begins simply.
The vegetables are briefly boiled in plain water.
Up to this moment, everything looks clean and healthy.
Then the direction changes.
Pork fat is poured over the drained greens.
Fried shallots follow.
Chopped garlic.
A sweet soy-based sauce.
The oil is added without restraint.
What arrives at the table is not a light side dish.
This is not a salad.
It is a green vessel designed to receive oil and aroma.
Any raw bitterness disappears.
The flavor is adjusted to be eaten with rice.
This dish does not ask vegetables to assert themselves.
It uses vegetables to make the meal complete.
Today’s Vegetable Is Not Chosen
On the menu, it usually appears as a single line.
No details.
What arrives depends on the day.
Even if you ask, the options come quickly.
Cabbage.
Lettuce.
Water spinach.
And sweet potato leaves.
When uncertain, many choose the last.
That is the judgment of someone who has been here before.
It is not a leaf commonly served at home in Japan.
That absence gives it meaning here.
A Leaf Once Fed to Pigs
Sweet potato leaves were not always food for people.
They were feed.
Or a marker of poverty.
Now, they hold a particular position among these greens.
They are nutritious.
High in fiber.
And, more importantly, they hold their texture.
The stems stay crisp.
The leaves carry a slight viscosity.
Several textures exist on one plate.
They withstand oil and garlic without collapsing.
Cabbage and lettuce cannot do this.
Over time, the format selected its ideal ingredient.
A Climate Where Salad Fails
There is a reason raw salads are rare in Taiwan.
They cool the body.
They hold water.
Their flavors are thin.
In a humid climate, under strong air conditioning,
raw vegetables are not always welcome.
This dish reduces volume through heat
and adds satisfaction through oil.
It is warm.
It is substantial.
But not excessive.
The sense of having eaten vegetables
and the sense of having eaten something good
exist at the same time.
What Remains at the Bottom
After finishing, I look at the plate.
A mixture of garlic, soy, and oil remains.
It is hard to call this healthy.
Yet few would call it a mistake.
This dish is not meant to erase guilt.
It is designed so guilt does not arise.
The presence of green on a Taiwanese table
is not explained by nutrition alone.
Even the emotional balance
is accounted for in this single plate.
