-By Danny Mellman

I was finally going to Asia, the epicenter, the Olduvai Gorge of food, as it were. My much-anticipated trip to Taipei, Taiwan, started like so many international forays. To begin with, my trip was booked by someone who does not own a globe, or I had angered in a previous life. The itinerary scrabble started at Fort Myers, my home airport: fly to JFK, collect my bags and change flights to Chicago, Alaska and finally Taipei, not to mention 14 hours of layovers with a 12-hour time change. To make matters worse, I missed my JFK connection (four hours is normally enough time, you'd think) and slept in N.Y. At 7:00 a.m. the next morning, 16 hours after leaving my home, I boarded a flight to LAX.

As poorly as it started, that's how well it went upon arriving in Taipei; it was now 9:00 p.m., two days later. A driver was there to deliver me to my gorgeous hotel. The Grand Hyatt Taipei is certainly that, grand. The excellent staff, understated and elegant, always seemed to know your name. From my 18th floor room, I could gaze upon the lights of Taipei city and "101" across the street, the world's tallest building.

Food Taipei
My arduous journey took place so I could attend FOOD Taipei 2008/ Taste of Taiwan Cuisine -- the annual gourmet food, packaging and equipment expo put on by Taiwan Trade (Taitra). The show was held in a new exhibition space -- a massive sleek glass and steel structure, large enough to hold all venues under one roof -- and it opened with a native dance group and introductions from dignitaries. I was struck by the island-esque appearance of the dynamic and colorful dancers who seemed more Hawaiian to me than Asian, and I soon learned that Taiwan is mostly populated with Japanese and mainland Chinese immigrants, with very few Taiwanese natives left.

Due to its great ethnic diversity, Taiwan has a diversity of cuisines made up of eight main categories: Holo (also called "Minnanese," or simply "Taiwanese"), Hakka, and vegetarian foods, as well as the various cooking styles with long histories from the length and breadth of China such as the northern style, Hunan, Jiangzhe (from the provinces of Jiangsu and Zhejiang), Hong Kong (Cantonese), and Sichuan.

The show, held in June, featured 1,077 manufacturers using 2,531 booths to display their best at these three shows. There were more than 42,000 domestic visitors, 30,000 domestic professionals and as many as 3,885 international visitors -- a 29.8 percent increase over the 2007 show. Food Taipei also attracted a total of 768 domestic and international manufacturers to use 1,609 booths to open the largest-scale show on record. That venue represented the entire world with the flavors and accents of Taiwan, FTA Zone (Panama, Guatemala and Nicaragua), U.S.A, Korea, Canada, Japan, Sri Lanka, Austria, the Philippines, Chile, Malaysia, Spain, Fiji, Poland and six African countries with 27 national pavilions.

Making my way through the aisles of the show, a fabulous feature I came upon was the "Century-Old Business Section" (the first time in this year's Food Taipei) with a total of 18 Taiwanese stores that are more than a century old, joined by such business as Kuo Yuan Ye, Tu Hsiao Yueh, and Taiwan Tea Corporation. There was also dragon beard candy (Long-Shi Tang) of Cheng Yi Chen's, which like other Taiwanese candies and pastries, was of great quality with an inherent export potential. Then there were $300/oz. teas, bamboo water, purple and red rice, and live seaweed. Discoveries of square watermelons -- yes, they are a perfect cube and fit neatly into a box ¬-- and the sweetest golden mangoes without a strand of fiber were around the next corner. I was thrilled to find drinking vinegars and eye cakes (Phong-Yiengao). And there were plenty of organic, natural, Halal (for Muslims) or Kosher items.

The respectfulness I have always thought to be an Asian ideal shows in the production and operation of business here. A quality mentality seems to exist and a positive circle of trust drives the lifestyle. Good products beget good fortune. This may seem idyllic, but I really felt this in Taiwan.

Other interesting products discovered during the show included: Wuan Chuang Foods, a great line of black bean soy sauce, made by three generations of craftsmen.

This was also the place to learn more about Taiwan's aqua culture program -- Asia has always led the way here. While we think only of tilapia and basia (a catfish species fake grouper), there's also shrimp, prawns, barramundi, clams, crabs, oysters, salmon, tuna, cobia and even Goliath grouper (Jewfish), protected in Florida. Somehow, they have managed to produce these items without a lot of (gene mixing) bioengineering and weird, unnatural fertilizers.

The exhibition was well designed and easy to navigate with wonderfully guided tours by Taitra. Promotional materials were generally available (rarely in English) and samples abundant. My only disappointment was that the show needed a more Western presence and interpretation. There were plenty of products that excited me, but little preparation for the U.S. marketplace. (Even a Japanese writer with our group had a translator.)

Still, there is great potential in this tiny nation. Next year, Food Taipei, Foodtech Taipei and Taipei Pack will be jointly held from June 23 to June 26, 2009, to continue to cook up amazing success and business opportunities.

Preserving the Landscape With Tea
A tour of the Taiwan Tea Corporation's (TTC) Tea Farm, a plantation up in the mountains overlooking Taoyuan, was filled with incredible food, butterflies and waterfalls. All the tea and vegetables at the plantation are organic, and the whole farm was hand-cleared. Being the third-largest landholders in Taiwan, the main business is real estate, so the Taiwan Tea Corp. does not need to grow tea, they do it to preserve the land. They also keep numerous family farms in business on their lands.

They feel that they can work in harmony with the environment; no disturbing the birds, rabbits, monkeys and butterflies. At the plantation's small reception building, a small open-air stucco building with tea mats and racks, tea dryers and a small counter, we were treated to the most delightful iced tea; fresh black tea, organic honey and ice cubes are put in a martini shaker and into a tall glass goes this refreshing drink, with a head to rival any stout. The foam leaves a "milk" moustache. It is just one more surprise I found in Taiwan.

I discovered the cuisine of Taiwan in the streets -- just a few blocks from the grand boulevards are the back streets, small storefronts, hawkers with their carts and the famous night markets. This was more of the Taipei I had expected. Though not glistening, the streets were well kept. The array of foods, fish, shellfish, produce, meats, livestock, the clatter of bamboo on woks and grilling smoke all around. Food, every doorway, corner, stoop, alleys, so much food. Roast duck, "warm" fresh pig, live chickens, luffa gourds, steaming buns, live squid, noodles of every shape, size and texture, all forms of tofu and the ubiquitous "jelly." Three- to 10-inch thick slabs of fresh gel, used in drinks, salads, noodle dishes: lemon, black tea, passion fruit, ginseng -- all made from varying starches like tapioca. Totem-stacked dried giant squid, "brillo" pad masses of shredded cuttlefish and ranges of tiny yellow green plums, fresh, dried, salted, preserved, pickled, charcoaled, smoked and more. And then around the corner, there were entrails and offal from ears to tails and everything in between.

Other less-known products, like the light-brown tangled mass of smoked pork floss, slightly sweet and spicy, akin to cotton candy but in texture only! Across the way, I see a man serving what looks to be an ice cream bar, coated in chocolate and nuts; well I was right on the nuts, and I am. A favorite snack, the Zhu Xie Gao is a flat, rectangular block of glutinous rice and dark brown pig's blood steamed on a stick. It is served warm, crusted in roasted chopped peanuts and fresh cilantro, known as parsley; of course, I got mine with a sprinkling of cayenne, cumin and ginger. Sausages, large and small, sweet and hot, dried, cured, smoked, some peanut-sized red babies were all grilled on a steel plate in a huge pile; others like the Shil-lin, from the market of the same name, average two to three pounds, and are the size of a table leg. A Taiwanese favorite, resembling a good ole U.S. hotdog, is the Da Chang Bao Xiao Chang (translated to mean small sausage in large sausage). This imposter is actually a sweet cured sausage, served with pickles, ginger, onions, cucumber, mustard on a white bun, which is actually a pig casing stuffed with seasoned rice, grilled and split.

As I wander the streets, I see two ageless women kneeling effortlessly while forming dumplings to order; another wields a machete, trimming fresh bamboo shoots the size of softballs into pale yellow pyramids. A young boy peels and squeezes lotus seeds to make "jelly," while his sister scrapes crimson cockscombs. All kinds of fried pastries, griddled flatbreads, steamed buns and tandoor loaves, all in motion. A black chicken escapes its pen, to add to the hawkers' melee. All this going on in front of storefront eateries filled with patrons and their own cacophony of boiling stews, crackling embers and steel on bamboo.

The contradiction of slick, modern structures and spotless boulevards against the back streets -- hawkers, smoke, constant clatter and the head-clearing smell of "stinky" tofu, Chou Dou Fu -- is very evident. I saw few "supermarkets;" the fine dining restaurants are mostly supplied by the farmers who drive the street markets. Everything, every day, always fresh. The chickens are plucked as they are sold, usually based on sex and feather and skin color. The pig parts are not refrigerated and are called "warm" because of the short period since the slaughter. They are believed to have better flavor and be more tender than Western pork, which is kept too cold, or so it is believed. Food seems to drive the nation, with more eateries than one could count.

A Local Food Tour
After days of FOOD Taipei and nights on my own at markets, sampling unknown morsels of "whatever," seeing live king cobras ritualistically slaughtered, bled and eaten, small turtles turned into nine-course meals and otherwise stumbling through this Alibaba's cave of culinary treasures, I had the pleasure of spending an afternoon with KM Seetoh and his lady friend Miss Chang.

Seetoh is a Subaru executive and "junior" foodie who volunteered to show me around, while his lady friend graciously accompanied. Our first stop, Keelung Port Market, was rich with seafood, all sorts of fresh live shrimp, prawns and snails. Some of the clearest-eyed fish I've seen. Lightly breaded and fried flower crab, like a very plump softshell, and the tiniest shrimp, which are double-fried and seasoned like potato chips, shell and all. Chili crab, spicy, cherry-sized sausages that you eat like jelly beans.

The markets all have their own feel and style, almost like a culinary dialect. It is amazing the amount of food produced from one wok or newspaper-sized grill. All types of skewers, satay, kabobs, pig's liver, snout, tofu, squid, little cherry tomatoes stuffed with preserved plums. Spaghetti-thin baby eels fried in a nest. Whole cuttlefish, like a stocky, thick squid the size of a pineapple, brushed with soy and chili and charcoal-grilled. A bowl of fresh-cut durian -- another smelly thing.

As we parked the car for the next stop on the eating extravaganza, I thought of the diversity of food, ingredients and lifestyles that make up the cuisine. And then it hits you; the markets aren't for the faint of heart.

An almost disorienting smell hangs in the heavy evening air, "stinky" tofu, it's the one constant in all the markets. As with most Asian cultures, nothing goes to waste: strings of chicken's feet, lungs, hearts, livers, duck beaks and tongues, charred chicken heads. The inferno-like daytime sun does not compare to the heavy and close atmosphere in the night markets. At 106º F in the evening, the humidity hangs on you like a damp wool sweater.

The juxtaposition of two women arguing over the freshest pigs' ear and intestines next to a box of silken, fresh noodles, shaded from the harsh light. Pristine clear-eyed bonito, milkfish and wrasse (a tiny crimson and neon blue spotted reef fish) all handled as if they were pastry figurines. The blue, brown and green prawns -- all alive, flipping and popping in their plastic pools -- are just waiting to be plucked. Multitudes of bivalves, all clearly alive, and yet each shopper is intent on picking the precise one out of a hundred.

And the greens, fruits and vegetables, not very uncommon to me as a chef, but some of the best looking and tasting ever -- all local, from Taiwan, and mostly farmed by small families. Apples, oranges, bananas, mangoes, durian, pure white and fluorescent pink dragon fruit are all waiting for me here, along with the pear-shaped Jambu (wax apple) with the flavor of apples and watermelon, and the texture of celery. Seetoh makes sure to tell me the best seasons and locales for each fruit.

The infamous "stinky" tofu is like the dog whose bark is worse than his bite. This local favorite is a delight to eat; the ultra crispy fried shell gives way to a silken interior. Served with soy and chili paste, it can be habit-forming. To cool the taste buds, we moved onto ice cream, another surprise was in store.

A woman working over two hot round steel plates was making the thinnest, chewy crepes; then a man armed with a wooden plane shaved a giant block of peanut brittle, the size of a small microwave; the shavings were laid in the crepe, which then got a scoop of mango, coconut and taro ice creams, fresh cilantro and was rolled like a burrito. Definitely my style, it was awesome; the coriander setting off the caramelly-peanut sweetness, without masking the subtlety of the flavors. As I slowed, Miss Chang was picking up steam.

I was advised to try a spring roll; in this case, the wrapper is made to order, then filled with a choice of items, mine was chicken, pork floss, kimchi, cucumbers, hot chilies and smoked tofu -- it was the size of my arm. As we headed to our next stop, Miss Chang couldn't pass up the glass of fresh watermelon juice or the fried sweet potato chunks, which are chilled and then glazed with sugar syrup. Next up, classic beef noodles and hotpot, both items were very good, yet reminded me of New York's Chinatown. I longed for the obscure. I discovered it in a chilled salad of very spicy cabbage and another with sea cucumber (hicent) and the skirt of giant land snail.

Once again, to cool off, we had ice; ice snacks, known as Bin, can be shaved, crushed or cracked ice. We had two heaping bowls, one of shaved ice topped with fresh mangoes, mango puree and shaved mango ice; the other with fresh strawberries, kiwi and mangoes, all fresh. The locals packed into the tiny shops, which makes sense that these icy delights would become a mainstay of the Taiwanese diet, refreshing in the hot evening air and a benefit to digestion.

We had one more stop as my culinary compatriot, Miss Chang, wanted dinner. I agreed, thinking we would finish the day with a light snack. Seetoh asked what I'd like. I wanted to try the fresh bamboo shoots, a few words were exchanged, and we sat. Well, we got the bamboo, plus salmon head soup, whole steamed/broiled milkfish, boiled black chicken, vermicelli, cucumber salad and clams with black beans and luffa -- and no, they were not all in one dish. At this point in the evening, I was not happy about getting back to the hotel, since I'd have to walk to the elevators. What an eating spectacle. Almost as amazing as the food was the fact that I spent $75.00 for all of it.

Taiwan Tourist
The 101 is a beautiful building, with a fast elevator -- 37 seconds to the 90th floor -- and it affords an incredibly great view of Taiwan. There is also a quick trip on the MRT out of the city to the Maokong Gondola, a gorgeous 22-minute ride through the mountains. I opted for this as well, stopping at the National Zoo and ending in the small mountainous farming community of Maokong. It was there I found myself on tiny roads made smaller by street vendors. I couldn't get past the woman selling grilled corn and sweet sausage -- $1.00 for both, no less. Making my way through the somewhat touristy yet charming village, I was mesmerized by the sunset over the mountains and the constant buzz of cicadas and frogs. Small eateries dotted the hillsides, each with three or four tables and a small cook shack. Off the serpentine road onto a plank deck and down the rickety boardwalk, I took a seat on a cut log with a flat slate for the table. I knew I was spotted when a young girl brought me a scribbled English menu; surprising to me, English isn't widely spoken, be prepared to speak with your hands and eat something you may have mistakenly ordered.

My meal, like most, was deliciously simple: spicy garlic and ginger sweet potato greens; ribs (actually knuckles) grilled and then fried with scallions and vermicelli with ginger, lotus and peanuts; and a 24-oz. Taiwanese lager. I found all the beers to be quite full-bodied and "hoppy," and the coffees were delicious -- very robust, toasty, but never bitter. I took the leisurely stroll back to the Gondola. This seems to be the Date Night or Family Out thing to do. The round trip ride is $3.00 and you can spend the day in Maokong, or just grab a beer or ice cream at the top. It was a gorgeous moonlit ride back. The cable cars are lit with tiny pin lights and signs request travelers to keep voices low for "the peaceful life of those below." This respect for others is part of Taiwanese upbringing; all the banter of the markets and street corners never seems to step beyond certain bounds. The evening walk from the MRT is relaxing, the smell of night-blooming jasmine and the awareness of being unaware diffuses any stress that may have come.

My last morning in Taipei came early, with a call from a young journalist/newscaster I had met at the exposition; Jenny wanted to show me more of everyday life in Taiwan. We met for coffee at the local 7/Eleven -- more than a convenience store here, stocking groceries, health foods, videos, umbrellas … We walked a few blocks to Jenny's neighborhood and her parents' small apartment, which was situated above a street market I had visited. We chatted with her cousin -- after taking our shoes off, of course -- who was visiting, played with her poodles and then headed out. We went for breakfast at a small storefront with nine seats and I had to wonder, "How do they make a living?"

Jenny went behind the counter for cream tea and I had black tea, chilled with ginger "jelly." We had tiny rolled tuna and chive omelets and grilled turnip cakes with brown soy -- a typical Taiwan breakfast. We then strolled through the market, Jenny grabbing anything that caught my eye -- roasted bamboo, charred duck tongues, mint spring roll; all samples, I guess, since she didn't pay for anything. More "jelly" samples, fresh bean noodles and plums. Jenny flowed easily between N.Y. T.V. English and Mandarin, every turn brought more Western slang from her mouth. A phone call added another for lunch; Jenny's childhood friend, Audrey, would meet us at Din Tai Fung, the most famous of Taiwan's dumpling shops.

Din Tai Fung is more than a shop, it is an institution -- think of Joe's Stone Crab, Harry Carey, Bern's Steak. We were greeted by a queue 20 deep at 11:00 a.m. and a full restaurant. A three-story dumpling megaplex, everything is made from scratch, every wrapper, picked crab, shelled shrimp, smoked rib. Cooks of all ages, shapes and colors rolling, folding and twisting; think Willy Wonka and the Oompa Loompas, every meticulous pinch and crimp is the same. Count 17 lines on every pork dumpling and nine pinches for every minted vegetable gyoza. When you leave your name at the door, you are given a menu and pencil to check off your desired items; when you are seated, your food arrives with your drinks. We really stretched the meal at 35 minutes. The pork dumplings are de rigueur at Fung, perfectly round, snow-white dumplings, steaming hot, an understatement with your first bite. A rich pork broth explodes from the translucent packet with perfectly seasoned stuffing inside -- how do they keep the liquid inside? Vegetable dumplings, shrimp gyoza, three-tofu soup (smoked, fermented and fresh). We chat about my trip and what to eat next. It's decided -- the Ice Shop. Different from the fruit ice with Seetoh, this afternoon snack was crushed ice, sweetened with candied yams, syrupy red beans, giant kidney beans, warm sweet tofu, steamed barley, lotus seed, honey green beans, taro, all warm over the ice. A pot with extra ice is available, along with a warm pot of caramelly syrup, just in case it wasn't sweet enough. Like the street hawkers frying Bao in front of a pristine, Parisian-style bakery, the warm and cold sweetness, perfect foil to the afternoon heat -- and a constant reminder of the contradictions that make the world go round.

Riding to the Taoyuan airport, I gazed at the many bridges crossing the Keelung River and contemplated my first Asian experience. The flow of life and interaction and reaction that constantly mold the future; the lifestyle here reflects history and the idea that everyone and everything makes a difference in the world. Maybe there is something to taking your shoes off in the house, a hint of respect, or eating with chopsticks -- slow down, think about your meal. Food is such a huge part of everyday life, you almost become powerless to resist, yet the locals remain lean and ageless. The LOHAS acronym was tossed about many times here -- they translate it as Life of Health and Slow while we refer to it as Lifestyles of Health and Sustainability. Either way, it would seem the Taiwanese have taken better heed of its meaning than we have back home.

Comments? danmellmancooks@yahoo.com

For more information, visit:

Taipei Int'l Food Show - www.foodtaipei.com.tw
Taipei Int'l Food Machinery and Technology Show - www.foodtech.com.tw
Taipei Int'l Packaging Industry Show - www.taipeipack.com.tw