Chiayi’s Claim to Culinary Fame is a Humble Turkey Dish

Few dishes embody a region’s history and identity like Chiayi’s cuisine, with roots as deep as its flavor.

STORY AND PHOTOS BY STEVEN CROOK

If there’s one thing nearly every town in Taiwan seems to have, it’s a delicacy it claims as its own. In some cases, the association seems contrived. But when it comes to Chiayi, its claim to fame is unquestionably well-earned. Chiayi Turkey Rice (嘉義火雞肉飯, jiayi huoji roufan) – the city’s iconic dish – lives up to its name and reputation. Located three hours south of Taipei by car, Chiayi has made this humble yet flavorful dish a cornerstone of its culinary identity.

For many local diners, the dish ticks all the major boxes. When prepared well, it satisfies without being overly oily, salty, or sweet. For curious first-time customers and long-time foodies alike, Chiayi – standing at the center of the island’s turkey-farming region – boasts an exceptional concentration of eateries serving steamed white rice topped with finely shredded turkey meat.

Chiayi Turkey Rice’s legacy extends far beyond its hometown, tracing its roots to a fascinating history of turkeys in Taiwan. The dish’s rise to prominence is closely tied to the postwar boom in turkey farming, a phenomenon that transformed this once-rare poultry into a staple of Taiwanese cuisine.

One notable origin story of Taiwan’s turkey population dates back to the Dutch East India Company’s occupation of Tainan (1624–1662), during which the first turkey is said to have been consumed on the island. Another retelling mentions the interpretation of “long-necked birds” in Qing-era documents as evidence that turkeys were being raised on southern Taiwan in the late 18th century.

What’s known for sure, however, is that by 1921, the Japanese colonial authorities on Taiwan were encouraging rural households to raise turkeys as a sideline. The birds had a diverse economic value, from producing meat and eggs to stuffing bedding and upholstery, made possible by instructing farmers to process the feathers for other uses.

Domestic production of turkeys multiplied after World War II, as the island’s human population grew and meat became more of a dietary staple, with hefty turkeys even finding their way to temples as food offerings.

It seems that Thanksgiving purchases by American military personnel stationed on the island between the early 1950s and the late 1970s, combined with exports to Hong Kong, were enough to push up prices ahead of each holiday season. According to a 2015 paper by Chen Yuan-peng, a professor of history at National Dong Hwa University, Taiwanese consumers of that era weren’t always aware they were eating turkey, as the meat was often processed into nuggets, steaks, or hams.

Turkey in the modern market

Taiwanese farmers didn’t have to worry about foreign competition until 1989, when pressure from Washington prompted Taipei to accept more agricultural imports. Turkey-raising operations that focused on supplying processed-food companies and supermarkets soon found themselves undercut by their American counterparts, causing domestic production to crash to less than a quarter of its peak. From the American side, however, the trade breakthrough has had limited impact: between 2019 and 2023, U.S. turkey exports to Taiwan accounted for no more than 0.13% of the total annual agricultural exports to the island.

Since then, only farms able to raise birds with meat suited to local culinary preferences have prospered. And as of late 2022, all but two of Taiwan’s 67 turkey-raising operations registered with the Ministry of Agriculture (MOA) were in the Yunlin-Chiayi-Tainan area. Remarkably, three-quarters of the turkeys raised in Taiwan come from fertilized eggs imported by air from the United States or Canada. These eggs are incubated in quarantine facilities, where the chicks are kept until they are nearly a month old, ensuring strict biosecurity and quality control.

Consequently, the meat of white-feathered turkeys is about 50% more expensive than that of chicken. For black-feathered turkeys – the ones most frequently depicted in the bird images used by turkey rice restaurants – the premium is close to 100%. For a long time, however, turkey was cheaper than chicken. Food historians say affordability was a major reason why people who already enjoyed shredded chicken served on rice were amenable to a turkey variant.

Another reason for the relatively high price of local turkey meat is that Taiwanese gourmands are said to prefer the firmer meat found on mature turkeys, which can weigh up to 25 kilograms. To meet this demand, farmers raise the birds for as long as six months – significantly longer than the three to four months typical in North America.

Additionally, turkeys are prone to heat stress due to their size, necessitating well-ventilated poultry houses equipped with water-misting systems to maintain optimal temperatures. This requirement, combined with heightened sanitation and biosecurity measures prompted by avian influenza outbreaks, further drives up production costs. As detailed in a September report by Harvest, a Chinese-language publication focusing on agriculture, these challenges underscore the complexities of raising turkeys in Taiwan’s climate.

According to the same report, between 90% and 95% of total domestic turkey output is sold fresh to eateries without being frozen. Farmers are said to prefer selling whole birds to restaurant operators because they’ve found that when selling directly or indirectly to Taiwanese consumers, whose kitchens are rarely equipped with ovens, demand is largely limited to breasts and drumsticks, making it difficult to offload the remaining parts.

From market to plate

A minority of eateries offer turkey butt (火雞屁股, huoji pigu), turkey wattle (火雞脖子皮, huoji bozipi, the wrinkled flap of skin that hangs from a bird’s neck), and/or turkey tail (火雞肉尾椎, huojirou weizhui, eaten by some because it’s rich in collagen). Giblets can be turned into stock or broth, but the staff at one of Chiayi’s most renowned purveyors of the dish, Taocheng Sanhe Turkey Rice (桃城三禾火雞肉飯, No. 97 Minquan Road), says they’ve no use for them.

Staff at Taocheng Sanhe Turkey Rice carefully strip cooked turkey carcasses before passing them to a machine for shredding

It’s a different story at Democracy Turkey Rice (民主火雞肉飯; No. 149 Minzu Road). In addition to tail, tendon, and wattle (listed as 火雞歸, huoji gui), the latter establishment’s 90-item menu includes soup and non-soup versions of what – to the confusion of customers whose language skills are limited – is listed as turkey xiashui (火雞下水). The last two characters can mean “sewer,” but when pronounced in Taiwanese, it’s actually a reference to poultry offal. At Democracy and most other Chiayi Turkey Rice restaurants, customers wanting to minimize their intake of carbs can order fileted turkey meat (火雞肉片, huoji roupian).

Some restaurants use both male and female birds, but the staff at Taocheng Sanhe Turkey Rice say they stick to the former because “they cook better.” Compared to male gobblers, hens are fattier. Customers who arrive at this restaurant early in the day may see cooked turkey carcasses being stripped by kitchen staff; the repetitive work of shredding is done by a tabletop machine.

Rather than roast birds, as people in Western countries do, Chiayi Turkey Rice restaurants tend to partly cook each one in a pan, then separate the legs and neck from the torso before steaming or boiling. Customers may notice a color difference in the meat they’re served, the white chunks being breast, while the darker pieces come from the turkey’s legs.

Apart from the small slice of yellow pickled radish that’s laid atop the rice, there’s very little in a portion of Chiayi Turkey Rice that isn’t turkey or rice. Most restaurants add fried shallot – quite a lot in the case of Democracy Turkey Rice, less at Taocheng Sanhe Turkey Rice or at Ah Xi Chicken Rice (阿溪雞肉飯, No. 356 Renai Road). Those wishing to avoid shallots or radishes can try Heping Turkey Rice (和平火雞肉飯, No. 107 Heping Road). One of the restaurant’s more unusual offerings is Turkey Feet Soup (火雞腳湯, huoji jiao tang).

The final product is presented at Democracy Turkey Rice.

Gravy is an essential ingredient. It’s typically a blend of soy sauce paste and turkey drippings with some pepper. However, as a 2017 report in the Chinese-language Liberty Times points out, this is where many restaurateurs put their own spin on the dish to make their version of Chiayi Turkey Rice stand out from the crowd.

According to the article,  some chefs use black bean soy sauce. Others prefer a lighter but saltier soy sauce or a Japanese sauce. “This affects the aroma and flavor of the entire bowl, so each place is different, and this charming individuality makes people want to try every place,” the writer concludes.

The report also notes that the ideal rice for the dish is considered to be Tainong 71, a type of grain also known as Xiluo Rice (西螺米, xilou mi).

The Taiwan-based website icook.com.tw (愛料理) has aggregated approximately 290,000 recipes, offering dozens of different ways to prepare turkey rice. Some of them call for sliced ginger, rice wine, salt, and bay leaves to be added to the water in which the meat is cooked. Others say that the secret to great sauce is five-spice powder, fish sauce, and sometimes a dash of sugar.

However it’s made, Ah Xi’s sauce is a triumph of unobtrusive flavoring. Clear and light, it’s a major reason why their Chiayi Turkey Rice is my personal favorite. This humble eatery’s miso soup is also way above par. A small portion of turkey rice and a bowl of miso will set you back a mere NT$50.

Besides being inexpensive, Chiayi’s signature dish is also fairly healthy. The ROC Turkey Association website describes turkey meat as a low-fat protein rich in riboflavin, niacin, vitamins B6 and B12, iron, selenium, and zinc. An MOA web page refers to it as a “one high, three lows” food – high in protein but low in fat, calories, and cholesterol. So, if you enjoy your first bowl of Chiayi Turkey Rice, go right ahead and order another.

Democracy Turkey Rice offers fileted turkey meat for those looking to limit their carb intake.

OTHER STRINGS TO CHIAYI’S CULINARY BOW
Turkey rice may be Chiayi’s signature dish, but the city’s most famous eating establishment may well be Smart Fish (林聰明沙鍋魚頭), which was featured a few years ago in the Taiwan episode of the Netflix series Street Food. Smart Fish’s renowned dish is a slightly spicy stew assembled around the heads of farmed bighead carp and served in clay pots that also contain shacha sauce, tofu, vegetables, and mushrooms.

Listed on the Chinese-only menu as shaguocai jia lian yutou (沙鍋菜+鰱魚頭, casserole and fish head), it’s available in portions for one person, two to three people, and four to five people, costing NT$190, NT$350, and NT$520, respectively. Some of the 25,000-plus customers who’ve rated Smart Fish on Google Maps recommend that two people split a one-person pot because of the intensive flavor. Several regulars say Smart Fish’s Turkey Rice (NT$40) is especially good.

Both Smart Fish locations are within walking distance of Chiayi TRC Station. The flagship restaurant at No. 361 Zhongzheng Road is open from midday to 9 p.m., while the branch at No. 122 Guanghua Road operates from midday to 8 p.m. Both are closed on Tuesdays.

Minxiong – the township immediately north of Chiayi City – is renowned for its goose meat restaurants. Four eateries specializing in goose can be found on or near Heping Road (和平路), a stone’s throw from the western entrance to the town’s railway station. Minxiong is just nine minutes from Chiayi by commuter train.

At Minxiong Daqing Goose Meat (民雄大慶鵝肉, No. 1 Zhongle Road), diners can order a quarter of a bird (NT$380), one half (NT$750), or an entire goose (NT$1,500) that’s been simmered in stock, then cooked in a steamer. Smoked goose is slightly more expensive. Side dishes are also available.

Fans of Authentic Minxiong Goose Meat Booth (正宗民雄鵝肉亭, No. 33 Heping Road) praise the cabbage fried with goose fat (listed on the menu simply as cabbage or 高麗菜, gaoli cai) and the goose offal. What your smartphone may translate as foie gras is, in fact, standard goose liver (鵝肝, e gan); no birds are force-fed. This restaurant also sells jars of goose meat floss (鵝肉鬆, e rousong) and dried, finely shredded goose meat (鵝肉絲, e rou si), both of which are handy for preparing a quick meal at home.