When I went to the Chia Te Bakery, an unassuming storefront on an eight-lane (or was it ten-lane?) road in central Taipei selling the best pineapple cakes in Taiwan, I was the one customer in the shop who was clearly only buying for myself. To be fair, I was also the only foreigner there. As I stood in line with two single cakes—one with pure pineapple at the center of its buttery, crumbly shortbread pocket crust, the other with pineapple plus a cooked egg yolk—everyone around me held onto what could only be described as "banquet-sized" boxes piled so high they couldn't see in front of them to pay. It occurred to me that, rather than enjoying the baked goods on their own, they were getting enough for an entire family—possibly even an extended family no longer living on the island but demanding a near lifetime supply from their visiting aunt or cousin. Then of course, there are those who would never spend a minute waiting in line at Chai Te, because they swear by the pineapple cakes from Shun Chen.But that is the way of the Taiwanese: Everyone, from the most lauded local chef to the lowliest cab driver, has an opinion on the best place to get delicacies like pineapple cake, shaved ice, gua bao buns, and beef noodle soup. The only female cab driver I encountered in Taiwan refused to take me to the beef noodle place where I was supposed to meet up with friends, instead chauffeuring me to another one nearby, which she proclaimed "number one in Taipei—that other one only number three!" Meanwhile, the people who were responsible for my being in Taiwan at all—a London-based streetfood outfit by the name of Bao—took me outside the city, on an early morning drive into the jungle-covered mountains south of Taipei, to a place even the taxi drivers didn't know about—a place I immediately christened magic noodle mountain.Read the rest of this article over on MUNCHIES.
Advertisement