A mix of history, religion, and migration has brought Tibet to Taiwan in ways that comfort the soul as much as they satisfy the appetite.

STORY AND PHOTOS BY DINAH GARDNER

If you look at pre-1949 Republic of China political maps, you’ll see something surprising. The Kuomintang’s “Begonia-Leaf Map” not only lays claim to everything the People’s Republic of China occupies today but, in its more symbolic extensions, also includes Mongolia, the once independent Tuva, and parts of India, Afghanistan, Bhutan, and several other nations.

Reality, democracy, and some legal finagling have shrunk that map considerably. These days, if you head to the Ministry of the Interior’s National Land Surveying and Mapping Center website, you will only see the sweet potato-shaped main island and a few outlying islands, among them the disputed Diaoyutai Islands (known as the Diaoyu Islands in China and the Senkaku Islands in Japan).

Until 2017, Taiwan even had a Mongolian and Tibetan Affairs Commission under the Executive Yuan. That year, it was transformed into the Mongolian and Tibetan Cultural Center (MTCC) and moved under the Ministry of Culture.

The center now occupies a small, colorful space in the leafy, affluent lanes of Dongmen in Taipei, showcasing the two regions’ traditions. Displays include religious items like Buddhist statues and prayer flags, and cultural objects such as clothing and utensils. As part of an exhibition, it even temporarily housed a full-sized yurt — a portable, circular tent used by the region’s nomadic peoples (called a ger in Mongolia).

Over the decades, Mongolians and Tibetans, albeit in small numbers, have moved to and made their home in Taiwan. Of the two, Tibetans make up the slightly larger proportion. As of July 2025, 681 Tibetans holding ID or residents cards had settled in Taiwan, according to the MTCC. The number for Mongolians was 442.

After the complete Chinese takeover of Tibet in 1959, hundreds of thousands of Tibetans fled to Nepal and India, while a much smaller number eventually made their way to Taiwan. The then-ruling Kuomintang invited them as “compatriots” in their fight to take back control of China.

Others have arrived through the years to take up jobs, get married, study, or give religious instruction. In 1998, the Tibet Religious Foundation of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, representing the Tibetan government in exile, opened an office close to Liuzhangli Station in Taipei.

This sense of connection has deepened in part because many Taiwanese are followers of Tibetan Buddhism. Hundreds of Tibetan Buddhist temples and centers are scattered around Taiwan. One of them is the Southern Ratnasambhava Temple (南方寶生佛剎), a small religious building perched on a hill in Xindian. There are also many stores selling Tibetan devotional items — prayer beads, statuary, and tangkas (scroll paintings) — particularly around the capital, with a significant concentration just north of Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall Station.

Thankfully, it also means authentic Tibetan cuisine can be found here. The traditional fare embodies its homeland’s high altitude and semi-arid terrain through warming and hearty dishes. The core ingredients, derived from the plants and animals that can survive in this challenging environment, are barley, mutton, and yak products such as meat, milk, and butter. Sepen, a spicy chili-based hot sauce, is sometimes added to certain foods to deliver a formidable kick.

Dechen Pemba, a British-born Tibetan writer and cofounder of the Tibet Film Festival London, says the mark of a good Tibetan restaurant is one that sticks to the classics.

“I usually look for the key Tibetan dishes done well — such as beef or lamb momos (steamed dumplings), shapaley (a meat pie), and thenthuk (hand-pulled noodle soup),” she says. “I respect the Tibetan restaurants that put really authentic dishes on the menu, such as homemade blood sausage, butter tea (po cha), and tripe.”

Global Tibetan restaurants also reflect the influences of regional cuisines like South Asian and Chinese. Take Tibet Kitchen, the only Tibetan restaurant we found in Taipei that is fully Tibetan-run. Tashi and Donka — childhood sweethearts who were both born in India — launched Tibet Kitchen in 2013, not far from the Foundation’s office.

“We opened this place to share the comfort of our Tibetan food and to create a space where Tibetans in Taiwan can meet and feel at home,” says Donka. “Being second-generation Tibetans born in India, our lives and memories are shaped by both cultures. That’s why we also serve Indian dishes, because they are a part of who we are. Through our food, we hope to share the unique blend of Tibetan and Indian flavors that we’ve grown up loving.”

Donka says the momos are their best sellers. “It is the favorite food of almost every Tibetan, from small children to the elderly,” she says. “It may look like a dumpling, but the taste is completely different and very special.”

The other Tibetan restaurants we found in northern Taiwan were opened by Taiwanese, whether out of cultural interest, religious practice, or marriage to a Tibetan. Here’s our rundown of four restaurants in northern Taiwan where you can enjoy the tastes of Tibet.

Tibet Kitchen
西藏廚房
No. 217, Section 2, Heping East Rd., Da’an District

Tibet Kitchen is arguably the island’s most famous Tibetan restaurant. Testament to its fame, there were at least two tables of maroon-robed Tibetan monks tucking into lunch when I visit with a friend in October.

The interior is cozy — the soft lighting, dark red-brown tones, and prayer wheel wallpaper create a temple effect. At the far end, look out for a poster of the Potala Palace, and in pride of place, an enlarged photo of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Of course, that would be forbidden in Tibet today under Chinese control. But this is Taiwan.

While many dishes here reflect a strong Indian influence — samosa, tandoori chicken, chicken tikka, popular curries, and naan bread — you will also find many Tibetan staples, such as tsampa (small parcels of roasted barley flour dough), salted butter tea, tingmo (a swirl of puffy steamed bread similar to, but better than, its Chinese counterpart, the mantou), shaptak beef or chicken (a stir-fried meat in a fragrant soy sauce gravy with vegetables), and the absolute must-have momos.

My dining partner raves over his bowl of pingsha aloo beef, a meat stew with potatoes and vegetables that has a slow, hearty heat, ideal for a winter soup. The tingmo steam bread is designed to soak up the broth. The vegetable momos are firm and fresh and come with a startlingly spicy sauce. Everything is delicious, but best of all is the tsampa starter served in soft, putty shapes with a cup of Tibetan tea to dip it in.

Tibet Kitchen opens every day for lunch and dinner. The closest metro is Technology Building Station.

Tashi Delek
札西德勒 複合式餐飲
No. 1, Lane 63, Shezi St., Shilin District

Tashi Delek is a common Tibetan greeting that roughly translates as “hello!” and this vegetarian homestyle cooking spot is just as welcoming. The owners, a Taiwanese couple who are Tibetan Buddhists, have filled their space with Himalayan artifacts, evoking the feeling of eating in a temple. Still, the setting is informal, with tandard tableside seating and children’s chairs available by request.

The menu is one of the largest I have ever seen, with well over 120 choices from a United Nations’ list of cuisines: there’s Tibetan, Indian, and Bhutanese, as well as an intriguing blend of others, such as the mapo tofu rice blood cake vegetarian pizza. The Tibetan lamb tripe fried noodles are eye-wateringly spicy with a mean black pepper punch, while the Tibetan-style fried rice is moist and chewy, almost like a risotto, with mushrooms and edamame. The Tibetan dishes taste more international than authentic, but the Bhutanese chili-cheese fried rice takes me back to my Thimphu days, when I would brave the spicy dish in the Bhutanese capital.

Tashi Delek is a curious and fun place for dinner, although a bit off the beaten track in the mad scramble of streets in Shilin’s Shezi peninsula. It’s closed on Sundays, but open from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. on weekdays, and noon to 11:30 p.m. on Saturdays.

Thaku Café
塔郭藏品
No. 4, Alley 3, Lane 199, Jinhua St., Da’an District

Thaku Café is decorated like the living room of a well-to-do Tibetan home. The wooden furniture is painted in bright or deep colors and decorated with religious and cultural motifs such as conch shells and flowers. Jaunty Tibetan pop tunes play at a subdued volume, and the walls are adorned with framed Buddhist paintings and mandalas. As soon as you enter, you can detect the distinct scent of Tibetan incense.

The café was opened by a Taiwanese man and his wife, who is half Tibetan and half Chinese, and it serves a range of dishes and drinks, including a few Tibetan ones. The butter tea — a must order in my book — is rich and warming, poured from a marigold-yellow traditional Tibetan teapot into painted drinking bowls.

The other smash-hit is the tsampa, made from black barley and served in a curve of seven flower-shaped pieces on a plate. After kneading, they can be dipped into the tea or used as a kind of spoon to scoop up your meal. My dining partner has brought her two-year-old, who delights in finally having found a food designed to be played with first.

Thaku’s signature dish is a plate of Tibetan spicy stir-fried beef. However, as a non-meat eater, I instead enjoy a lip-numbing mapo tofu (vegetarian version) — the best I have eaten in Taiwan.

Thaku Café is a five-minute walk from Dongmen Station and is closed on Tuesdays.

TWINS Chufang
廚房 正宗西藏青海羊排炕鍋
No. 107, Nanda Rd., East District, Hsinchu City

TWINS is a no-nonsense Tibetan restaurant that offers hearty grub a short walk from the Hsinchu TRA Station. Tibet is loosely divided into three regions — U-Tsang in the south, Kham in the center, and Amdo in the north. At TWINS, you’ll find Amdo cuisine, blended with some northwestern Chinese flavors.

Owner Liu Bo-an, originally from Miaoli, learned his craft in Xining, the provincial capital of Qinghai province and the Amdo heartland. He had been running an Italian restaurant (also called TWINS, named after his own twins), but decided to pivot to a novel cuisine to bring customers back after a post-Covid lull. It seemed to be working: the restaurant is lively on the Friday night I visit in late October.

The interior is striking — bold red walls are decorated with many colorful Tibetan items, such as an enormous textile print of the Potala Palace, Buddhist scrolls, mandalas, and an embroidery of a stupa. Tibetan prayer flags are strung across the ceiling.

The signature dish, Kang Pot lamb ribs, is served as a sizzling iron pot of tender cubes of marinated lamb, wedges of crispy roast potatoes, and huge chunks of green pepper and onion, laced with ribbons of spiced flat chewy noodles. There’s also a vegetarian version without the lamb. The cumin dominates, and if you ticked the “ok with mala” (麻辣, a tangy, tongue-numbing Sichuan spice) box on your order, then that will add an extra layer of attack.

In addition, the menu features lamb and vegetable skewers (including zucchini, eggplant, French beans, and a curly strip of gluten). For dessert, there is the recommended Qingke tianpeizi, a kind of sweet watery porridge made of fermented barley — a classic snack in Qinghai.

TWINS is closed on Mondays, open for dinner every other weekday, and for lunch and dinner on weekends.