Decorated with enough vintage posters and knick-knacks to stock a flea market, Ah-Tsai’s Restaurant (阿才的店) gets precariously close to theme restaurant territory. But a fiery, garlic-heavy menu of classic Taiwanese dishes proves the restaurant’s culinary chops.
Ah-Tsai’s is housed behind a picturesquely dilapidated-looking storefront on Jinshan South Road (金山南路), with overgrown planters and a vintage scooter parked out in front for good measure. The interior is carefully decorated to look untouched since the 1960s (a thick layer of dust on a row of Tatung electric fans and Bakelite telephones helps the overall effect). Scruffy white walls are festooned with colorful movie posters, yellowing calendars and black-and-white photographs of dreamy looking women in qipaos. Waiters grab dishware from cupboards topped with old tin toys and coin banks.
Every vintage item is probably twice as old as Ah-tsai’s clientele, which on weekdays appears to consist mostly of young professionals celebrating the end of a workday by knocking down bottles of Taiwan Beer. Ah-tsai’s strong flavors certainly seemed designed to induce thirstiness for a cold brew.
Take, for example, the stir-fried betel nut flowers (檳榔花, NT$100 or NT$200 depending on portion size), a white plant that resembles and tastes like a slightly sweeter version of bamboo. Ah-Tsai’s version tosses in a heap of cilantro, chili peppers and diced scallions, as well as a luxurious dose of garlic. After my taste buds got over the initial shock, I enjoyed the dish, even though all the spicy flavors threatened to compete with the mild taste of the crunchy betel nut flowers.
Also searingly hot was the kongpao shrimp (宮保蝦仁, NT$190 or NT$280), which was stir-fried with lots of chili peppers. Unlike kongpao chicken, this dish did not feature roasted peanuts, which were replaced with chunky slices of juicy zucchini. The vegetable was a welcome contrast to the shrimp, which had absorbed plenty of chili oil.
We didn’t get a respite from the spiciness with the Hakka stir-fry (客家小炒, NT$180 or NT$250), or strips of pork, bean curd and squid tossed with scallions, celery and yet more chili peppers. The stir-fry was good, but the meat and bean curd were slightly overcooked and tough.
Surprisingly, the shacha lamb stir-fry (沙茶羊肉, NT$130 to NT$200) tasted tame in comparison to the other dishes, probably because it was only lightly sprinkled with a few tiny bits of chili. The slices of meat were cooked with water spinach, basil and lots of shacha sauce, a thick condiment made of chopped fish and dried shrimp marinated in a mixture of soybean oil, garlic, chilis and shallots. The amount of lamb seemed skimpy but went very well with the basil and crunchy water spinach, whose hollow roots soaked up the shacha sauce.
At NT$380 or NT$480 depending on your order size, sanbeiji, or three cup chicken (三杯雞), is one of the priciest dishes on Ah-Tsai’s menu. It takes about 20 minutes to prepare, which gives the meat time to simmer slowly in a mixture of soy sauce, sesame oil and rice wine. Topped with cloves of garlic that had been cooked until tender, the chunks of chicken were heavy on bone and relatively short on meat, but nonetheless delicious and worth the wait.
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
President William Lai’s (賴清德) March 13 national security speech marked a turning point. He signaled that the government was finally getting serious about a whole-of-society approach to defending the nation. The presidential office summarized his speech succinctly: “President Lai introduced 17 major strategies to respond to five major national security and united front threats Taiwan now faces: China’s threat to national sovereignty, its threats from infiltration and espionage activities targeting Taiwan’s military, its threats aimed at obscuring the national identity of the people of Taiwan, its threats from united front infiltration into Taiwanese society through cross-strait exchanges, and its threats from
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at