We Love Cookies and Dai's House of Stink

We Love Cookies
Roosevelt Road Section 3 Lane 283 #17
(next to Sai Baba Pita Bar)
2369-5555
羅斯福路3段283巷17號
MRT Gongguan (捷運公館站)

We found this place while hunting for a place to have dessert and beer - we'd just come from a stinkytofustravaganza at Dai's House of Stink (which has moved, by the way, to Yongji Street - 永吉街 - Lane 120 and can be seen clearly from the multi-road intersection) and after all that stankerific tofu (the raw tofu was actually more rank, vile and, *ahem*, piquant than the last time) we wanted something sweet.

First we tried Crown Fancy on Zhongxiao E. Road across from Songren Road, which was packed. So we walked to Gordon Biersch in Shinkong Mitsukoshi A-11, which was packed. We then split two taxis to My Sweetie Pie, which was likewise packed. We then walked to Cafe Goethe past Insomnia (packed), Salty Peanuts (packed) and Prague Bookstore (packed) before arriving at Cafe Goethe, which was not packed, but was also closing in 20 minutes.

Along the way we'd passed a new and clearly unfinished setup next to Sai Baba with gorgeous looking soft cookies on display. We decided "what the heck, the inside is a bit rustic but it's dessert and maybe Sai Baba will sell us beer if they don't have any".

It turns out that they do have beer - San Miguel - and coffee, but the real deal here are the cookies. They have vegan coffee and oatmeal cookies, peanut butter, chocolate brownie, brown sugar, Bailey's and other flavors, not to mention red velvet macaron-style cookies, but soft and filled with cream cheese frosting. They also have carrot cake and chocolate mint cupcakes.

As we sat in the not-really-ready-for-customers-to-sit-here-yet "seating area" someone showed up with a guitar and there was an impromptu bit of live music. It was very chill, or as one person put it, "like being back at the co-op".

But the cookies. Oh, the cookies. I need to go back and put this place on the "Best Desserts in Taipei" list. They're perfect. They're soft and heavenly (I don't really go for crunchy cookies except for Milanos). I intend to get some for the next time we have guests.

I'd say "try this" or "try that" but...try all of them. Just do it. They're SO GOOD.

Cookies are five for NT100, cupcakes are separate and a little bit more expensive.

So back to Dai's. We had the raw stinky tofu there before - the stuff that "defeated" Andrew Zimmern. It was pretty vile, but still something we could eat. This time...we really couldn't stomach more than a bite, and Joseph didn't even take that bite (but he did gamely try the other forms of tofu we ordered).

Just so you can see how fantastically dire the raw stinky tofu at Dai's is - it's seriously horrific. They ferment the stuff for two weeks in noxious black rotted vegetable slurry...no, I am not making this up.

Here are some photos.

After the photos, I will post a description of what I think it tasted like. It will be a very, ahem, ripe description. If you have any inclination towards a weak stomach, I suggest that you take great pains not to read it.

It translates roughly into "of all the things under heaven, I am the most stinky".

Sandra couldn't take it.

Cathy was thoroughly disgusted by it (her boyfriend's reaction was "Wow...that was something that...was in my mouth").

Joseph wisely refused to go near the stuff.

...

So.

When I was in China, I took a minibus through the winding hills of Guizhou in Miao territory (the Miao are a minority who live mostly in Guizhou) and had to go to the bathroom. I was having digestive issues and everything, ahem, issuing forth was...err...quite violently dire and in some cases painful. The driver, who probably would not have stopped for a local, stopped for me and I was ushered to the town's only real bathroom, which was up rickety old stairs to a hut suspended over an overhang.

"Why is it over this overhang? Did they not want to dig a hole?" I wondered.

The smell was virulently bad - the only word I can think of for it was coined by the Simpsons: it was truly crapulent. It smelled of a the excretion of a hundred different digestive organs convened over a mess of unclean pigs rutting around in a slimy pit of rotted vegetables.

As I entered and stood on the ancient, slimy wooden planks over the expanse of ground below, I heard a snort.

And I found out that it smelled so bad because that was exactly what it was - the village latrine hanging over a hair-raisingly smelly pigsty. I added my own deposit to the Bank of Hell and went on my way.

The smell that emanated forth, redolent of everything that my intestines had rebelled against in China commingled with the smell of the excretory functions of every other villager in that town, perfumed with the stench of giant hogs.

Dai's raw stinky tofu, in my mouth, brought back memories of that day. That horrible, nadir-of-all-that-is-unholy day.

But do go eat the cookies.

The Longtan Weird House (龍潭怪物房)

I am not sure that's the actual name, but it's something along those lines.

This "house"...thing...is in Longtan, right on the main highway through town (not downtown). Apparently the following things are true:

1.) It was built by the mayor's brother

2.) The mayor's brother is a bit of a weird guy (really, ya think?)

3.) The mayor's brother designed it himself and - apparently, though maybe there was a language-based miscommunication here - built it, too, as he owns a construction or contractng firm. He designed it this way because he liked it.

4.) People still live on the ground floor (it sure seemed that way)

5.) The mayor's brother actually lives on the upper floors (really?! I am not sure I believe this)

6.) The inside is really quite luxurious, in a "太over啦!", European chintz way

7.) You can go inside if you want, and there's even a restaurant (I have a really hard time believing this)

8.) Everyone in Longtan knows it (this has to be true - you can't NOT notice a monstrosity such as this)

9.) People who don't live in Longtan have also heard of it - it's actually quite famous

10.) It was apparently built with the mayor's brother's own funds, not taxpayer dollars

I don't know how much of the above is true and how much is dodgy info from locals, but there you have it.

The Longtan Weird House.

When I showed Joseph and Brendan while we were in town for Dragon Boat (I knew it because I go to Longtan for work fairly often - I teach a seminar at the Acer facility out there on occasion) I said before we got there "it's a really odd building. It won't change your life or anything, but it's really, really strange."

Brendan: "You lied to me! You said this building wouldn't change my life, but it did! LOOK AT THAT THING. I mean...WTF? Seriously?"

So...

...enjoy.

Postpartum Depression in Taiwan

Yeah, not a happy post.

Once again I’m going to apologize for blogging a lot less than usual these days. If you could see my schedule you’d understand why. I now work in Hsinchu twice a week, something I’m willing to do mostly because the pay is good and the clients are high-profile enough that it’s a nice ding on the resume. My schedule is so full that while I need to get a health check to renew my ARC, I don’t actually have any time – at all – during the hours when hospitals offer the checks. I’m making BANK, which is great for Turkey, but it takes its toll on blogging. It’s not that I have no time to blog at all; I could sit down on a Sunday afternoon or on one of the few days when I don’t start until noon, if I have enough time after prepping for work, but the workload is so great that it’s fuzzing up my creativity and siphoning away my energy to think about writing.
Anyway. I do promise that eventually, things will quiet down and I’ll be blogging more. My goal has always been five posts a week, and I’ll try to start hitting that again when I’m not racing all over northern Taiwan (Hsinchu, Taoyuan, Linkou, Tucheng, Zhonghe, Nangang - at least I get a good transportation allowance) for work.

My thought today:

I was recently chatting with a student who works for a pharmaceutical company. He told me about a disturbing story he’d heard – a new mother who’d drowned her young son in the bathtub for no apparent reason. He mentioned other similar stories that occasionally surface, and shook his head with sorrow and wonderment – how could this happen? How could she do that? How could any mother do that?

“It seemed like nothing was wrong,” he said. “I really do not understand.”

Clearly, he’d never heard of the surprisingly common and tragic phenomena of postpartum depression and postpartum psychosis. He didn't know the words in Chinese, and was shocked to learn that such things really existed - that depression and psychosis could be brought on by childbearing and the stress of infant care.

This from a pharmacist who works for a company that produces, among many other things, drugs that treat mental conditions and disorders.

“How could a normal woman do that?” he added. “It seemed she wasn’t insane. The news said she was very logical and calm.”

And of course, the answer is that while she may otherwise have been a normal woman, postpartum depression is a very real issue – while the causes may not be well-understood – have you ever noticed that disorders that affect women seem to be more frequently appended with phrases like “poorly understood” or “not extensively studied”? Why is that? – the effects and treatments are similar enough to depression – a bona fide mental issue – that I do confidently place it in a similar, if separate, category, and do the same for postpartum psychosis and other psychoses.

What scares me is that this is a member of the medical community – while not a doctor, it stands to reason that he should have at least heard of postpartum depression and psychosis. Failing that, why wasn’t it mentioned in the news item he saw?

Postpartum depression and psychosis, at their worst, can result in suicide (attempted or successful) and the murder of young children. The best ways to avoid this are a public understanding of the condition, availability of help and intervention. In the USA it has received a lot of press. I regularly read a well-regarded advice column in the Washington Post and her associated online chats, and discussions of these issues have come up several times, often from other contributors (as well as from the columnist herself).

It worries me that in the USA, these issues are in the public consciousness enough that random contributors to an online chat mention them, and yet someone who works in a medical field in Taiwan had no idea that such conditions even existed. I even had to explain what I meant when I said “she may have seemed logical and calm, but she wasn’t. She was suffering. She had a very real mental condition and it’s deeply sad that she didn’t, or couldn’t, get help for it.”
It makes me wonder – how many new Taiwanese mothers (and fathers) suffer without knowing why, without feeling that they can seek help, without knowing that there is a name and associated treatment they can seek out? How many parents’ and childrens’ lives are at risk due to this stunning lack of knowledge?

I mean, it’s hardly surprising, given the wide berth that psychological and psychiatric issues are given in Taiwan. Therapy and psychiatric care exist, but are not nearly as widely available as in the West. Western-style therapy and psychiatric care exists, but many people are too ashamed to take advantage of it, or don’t realize it’s there, or don’t know how to find it. If you feel stigmatized in the USA for having depression or another issue, try living in Taiwan. I am on a pretty even keel but have experience in my social circle with this, and it’s really an issue that needs to be addressed – not just for new parents suffering from postpartum depression and psychosis, but more generally.

(By the way, if you ever wonder why my students always sound so fluent in my quotes, it isn’t because I’m such a great trainer that I bring them to fluency in mere months – at least that isn’t the only reason, ha ha. I try to keep the cadence of their sentences intact but edit the worst errors, as English errors are really not the point, and I want my readers to focus on the content of their thoughts, not the grammar flubs they may make).

Dragon Boat 2011!

One of my favorite festivals in Taiwan is Dragon Boat - I like it because it reminds me a bit of the atmosphere around a good Forth of July celebration back home, even though the two holidays are celebrated for completely different reasons. The warm weather, the unhealthy food vendors, the carnival atmosphere, the people out and enjoying the day - it's a good reminder that we're all the same around the world, even if we come out to celebrate different holidays. A kid with a balloon and cotton candy watching fireworks or playing carnie games in the USA is no different from a kid with a balloon and cotton candy watching dragon boat races and lion dances (and playing carnie games) in Taiwan.

And because I'm still a kid at heart in so many ways, I love it.

There's also the fact that while dragon boat is a holiday in China, it's hard to find actual races. They do exist, but they're not as common or popular (they seem to be more popular in Hong Kong, actually).

Every year (except for the years when we travel) we find a different place in Taiwan to check out the races. Our first year we were in Penghu, which was cool although there wasn't much of a festive feeling and the races were far out in the harbor. The next year we went to Erlong, near Jiaoxi in Yilan County. One year we missed the races in Hong Kong, but last year we went to Bitan to see them in Xindian.

This year, we ventured out to the aptly-named Longtan (龍潭) in Taoyuan County but not far from Xinzhu, with a large temple holding court over the dragon-named lake - an event we all agree has been the best so far.

Beyond the actual racing, Longtan's dragon boat celebrations include a night-market style area with games and unhealthy food, ice buckets crammed with cans of Taiwan Beer, plays, fireworks (in the evening) and lion dancing over the water.

It's not really so much about the races for us - we don't even know who is competing most of the time - but the atmosphere around it as we're shouting "Go Red!" or "Go Team Blue!" despite having no idea which team represents which group or organization (groups such as schools, clubs, companies, churches, temples and aboriginal tribes will often form a team and enter).

And of course the cute dogs. I'm fairly sure this little guy's eyes were about to fall out of his sockets (his name is Lucky).

Longtan is a bit built-up and is a larger-size city than I expected. I've been through several times to teach classes at Acer's training/resort facility on a hill outside of town, surrounded by tea farms. I'd never been downtown and was surprised at the size of the place.

Despite the concrete jumble of buildings encroaching on the lake, it is a scenic place to watch the races and you can see the goings-on fairly up-close, with the temple in the background.
Longtan is also famous for its Hakka population - the big draw being lots of restaurants serving Hakka food. Our lunch was good - a bit mediocre by Hakka standards, but then there's no such thing as bad Hakka food, methinks, and in wider comparison I would say it was quite tasty.

Longtan is also famous for peanut candy (花生糖) - we bought assorted candies from the famous Longqing (龍情) peanut candy company as well as Chiwei (知味), which makes a coconut peanut candy that I like as well as a dried tea-leaf covered candy that I am fond of. Now we are the proud owners of a ton of caramel-covered peanuts, which threatens to destroy my continued attempts to eat healthier!

Longqing is right on the lake, so it's easy to visit if you ever pass through Longtan (worth it on a non-festival day mostly for the Hakka food, temple and peanut candy), and Chiwei is on the main drag out of town heading towards Zhongli (中壢).

For those not familiar with the history of dragon boat racing, the story is that an official and famous poet named Quyuan who lived during the same period of Chinese history as Confucius and possibly Sun Tzu (of the "Art of War" fame) drowned himself in Hunan province as a protest against corruption. The people tried to save him, beating drums and doing other things to keep evil spirits away. I always thought that people beat drums on Dragon Boat so the rowers could row in time, but it may also be related to this myth. After it was clear that Quyuan could not be saved, people threw rice into the water to keep his spirit from feeling hunger. Because dragons were eating the rice (okaaaay), they started wrapping them up in triangles - the origin of today's leaf-wrapped zongzi, or sticky rice dumplings. I like the meat, peanut and mushroom ones although many kinds are sold.

Side note: I once met a woman in the wet market near MRT Yongchun who made so many zongzi in her life, she said, that she'd worn down the skin on her fingers and as such no longer had fingerprints. She showed me her hands and indeed, she had no fingerprints...I do believe her story, but I have to say...wow.

So now, to commemorate the death of Quyuan, but mostly to go out and have fun as the summer starts rolling in, dragon boat races are held every year. Which, come on, most of us celebrate Forth of July for the same reason...you get a few patriotic sorts who really do celebrate the founding of the United States but really, most of us are in it for the fireworks, picnic blankets and corn dogs).

One thing that you can see in Taiwan is a "flag grabber" at the end of the boat who grabs a flag to determine the race's winner. This is done in parts of the world with large Taiwanese populations (such as Vancouver), as well.

One thing we noticed in Longtan was that instead of drum beats for the boats, there was a drum but they mostly played well-known Western songs such as the James Bond theme, Mission Impossible, Flight of the Bumblebee, something by the Beach Boys and El Cumbanchero. When the aboriginal team was racing, they played aboriginal music (the stuff that goes "oh hei-oh hai oh-ah") which struck us as...well, probably well-intentioned but imagine if a Chinese team had been competing and they'd played some sort of fakey Chinese music (ding ding ding dong dong ding)...which, come to think of it, they probably would do.

Anyway, enjoy some more photos from the day...including the giant roast pig above, the giant balloon orb with legs below, and more!

Marriage in Taiwan Part III

I apologize for not really blogging this week...it's just been a busy few weeks with seminars and weekend work, and when I do have free time, I'm too tired to blog coherently. There's nothing more to it than that - I have a long list of topics I've thunk up and want to write about, and no energy or presence of mind to do it right now. I hope you'll bear with me.

I did want to share a quick anecdote that made me wonder, though.

The first:

This was discussed at length in my first and second posts on the low marriage rate in Taiwan, but I had two conversations that highlighted a probable area of disagreement and likely cognitive dissonance between men and women here.

From a female peer: "Oh, Taiwanese men always feel they have to earn more than we do. So if you are a woman and you earn a high salary, a man you date will think he has to earn even more and maybe you won't find many men who can do that. They think they need to make more money than their wife just because they are a man. So they will not marry you if they are scared that you will earn more. I think that is so stupid."

From a male peer: "Taiwanese women! They always want the man to earn more! So if she earns a lot, he has to earn even more than that or she won't marry him. She will say 'you have to buy me this' or 'you have to have so much saved money' and if she makes more she will get angry with him, because she wants a better lifestyle. So it's hard for a Taiwanese man to marry."

Back to the female peer: "I don't care if I earn more than my boyfriend or my husband. If we can have a good life and he can also contribute, then it's OK." (Same woman later admitted that there are Taiwanese women who insist that they will only marry someone who can improve their lifestyle).

Back to the male peer: "If my wife earned a lot more than me, I would think it's OK, but she won't think that is OK! Then I feel like I have to work harder to make more!" (Same person later admitted that if his wife earned only a little more than him, he'd feel that he'd need to work harder to earn more than her because, ahem, "I am the man". It's only OK if she earns vastly more than he does).

So.

This is just two people - hardly a representative sample. Merely an anecdote. I do think it highlights something important, though. You could conclude from this that both men and women want husbands to earn more than wives, but I don't think that's what's going on here. It seems to me, from observation beyond these two conversations, that the men think the women want them to earn more (and are split on whether they themselves agree) and the women think that the problem is the men's arrogance, made worse by a few women who really buy into outdated ideas, which casts a stereotype over all Taiwanese women.

Which, you know, I don't know. Just some thoughts.

Song Chu (宋廚) - A Sad Rant About Great Duck

宋廚(Song Chu)

#14, Lane 15 Zhongxiao E. Road Sec. 5

(Almost right next to/slightly behind MRT City Hall)

台北信義區忠孝東路五段15巷14號

捷運市政府站

I have two things to say about Song Chu:

1.) The Beijing Duck is divine. (那邊的北京烤鴨真好吃)

2.) The service is terrible. (他們的服務非常糟糕呢！)

Song Chu is famous for its Beijing duck - most of my students have eaten there at least once and while it doesn't seem to be that well-known in expat circles (certainly it's known, but doesn't seem to be that famous) it's very well regarded among Taipei residents. To eat there, you have to either a.) know someone or b.) stand in line on the first of the month in the morning (get there no later than 10am, and I'd advise earlier) to reserve a table. You can call, but they won't answer. People we know with high positions in various companies seem to eat there often, and I don't believe for a minute that they actually wait in line on the 1st day of the month - they might send their assistants to do it, but more likely they just have some guanxi and don't have to stand around like us plebes. I had to stand around on April 1st to get a reservation for this past Saturday (May 28).

We ordered some other food to go with the duck, as one does. Some sliced fish in a slightly sweet, slightly savory goopy sauce (it was good, really), sweet potato leaves, onion pancake and other things. The other food was good, but not great. If I'd been taken out to a basic Chinese banquet hall and fed it, I'd think it was just fine, but I wouldn't write home about it.

The duck is really where it's at, and also where things went terribly wrong.

When I made the reservation - an hour and a half standing in the sun dodging scooters with the other duck-seekers - I told them our party size (nine) and that we "weren't going to order too many side dishes, we want lots of duck. Basically only duck." "We can do that!" the woman taking the reservation said.

So I figured, you know, they're professionals, they should know that a party of nine who orders relatively few dishes (which weren't worth a two hour wait) and wants to mostly gorge out on duck is going to need two ducks.

Yes, I should have been more specific and said "two ducks!" - but then they also should have asked (they didn't).

So we eat the food, and eagerly await our duck, and one duck's worth of duck arrives. And it's delicious. It's amazing. It's juicy and fatty without being greasy. The plum sauce is truly memorable. Everything is fresh. It's tender. It's better than Celestial and much better than Wei Fu Lou. I ask for more duck.

There is no more duck, because "you only ordered one duck when you reserved."

Err, no, I didn't. I said I wanted enough duck for nine people who didn't plan on eating a lot of other things.

"But we called you to confirm your reservation and you didn't say two ducks."

"You didn't ask and I thought you guys were true professionals and should be able to handle this sort of thing."

"When a table makes a reservation, we always give them one duck unless they ask for more. You should know that."

"How? Nobody told me that. Nobody said 'one duck'. Nobody informed me of this policy. You certainly didn't tell me when I reserved the table."

"I'm sorry but that's how we do it, and we don't have another duck. You can always order more food."

"I don't want other food. I didn't come here to eat mid-range sweet potato leaves. I can do that anywhere without having to wait in line for two hours to reserve a table. I want to speak to the boss. I am really not satisfied. I expected better."

"The boss isn't here." (Either she was lying through her teeth - which is quite likely - or the owner of the place never actually visits and lives off the profits in some hideous granite and marble monstrosity on Ren'ai Road, which I concede is also likely.)

Well.

We didn't really get an apology - a mumbled 不好意思 doesn't count. We didn't get anything that would have made me satisfied. Call me spoiled but if I'm going to go to some effort to eat somewhere, I expect satisfaction equal to the time and money spent. I realize this doesn't always happen in Asia unless you're in Japan (and not even always there - try ordering a sandwich from a set menu but asking them to leave off mayonnaise or something), but, you know, I really was not happy.

I'd say "they've lost my business" but it doesn't matter - they're famous. They have a line that unfurls down the block every first of the month. My decision not to eat there again doesn't really affect anything (sort of like how I'm on Dingtaifung strike because as good as their dumplings are, they're shockingly overpriced).

It's a shame though. The duck is truly sublime. If they'd offered some little olive branch to keep the customer happy, this would have been a rave review. Instead it's a rant...and that sucks for everyone.

Another video...because I felt like it.

I enjoyed making a video slideshow of Taipei photos so much that I went ahead and made another one for Taiwan, set to a different song by the same Taipei band.

Enjoy!