Taichung emerges as a city shaped by constant reinvention and fierce competition, its food culture telling a far more complex story than outsiders might expect.
Those unfamiliar with Taichung often struggle to place its food scene. The city’s population exceeds that of Taipei but lacks its convergence of international cuisine and is rarely associated with the deep-rooted culinary traditions that define Tainan, leading some to overlook it altogether as a dining destination.
But that’s not how Douglas Habecker sees it. An American who’s lived in Taichung since 1980, he says that when he hosts visitors from overseas, they’re often impressed by the variety of eateries in the city — and stunned by the sheer number.
“They ask me, ‘How can all these restaurants survive?’ — and the fact is, many of them don’t survive,” says Habecker. As co-publisher of Compass, a monthly city-guide magazine that was spun off from AmCham Taichung in 1999, he talks to restaurant owners every week. He has watched countless businesses come and go and observed how individual neighborhoods rise and fade as culinary hotspots.
One reason for this ebb and flow is the cost of renting premises. Some prime locations for restaurants — certain sections of Gongyi Road, the pedestrian-only stretch of Jingming 1st Street, and Chongde Road — have seen rents hiked to unsustainable levels, he says.
Sitting down with Taiwan Business TOPICS for a bite and a chat, he says that while location is unquestionably important, the place where we meet — Uptowner Taichung (雙城美式餐廳), at No. 446, Zhongmei Street, West District — prospers despite being on a less-than-bustling thoroughfare. “It thrives thanks to its reputation as an all-day American comfort-food type of place, and the American owners have developed strong relationships with their customers,” says Habecker, the Taiwan-born son of Christian missionaries.
Another of Habecker’s observations is that plenty of snack vendors and hole-in-the-wall eateries — such as those that make Taichung Second Market (台中第二市場), on the corner of Taiwan Boulevard Section 1 and Sanmin Road, Central District, a foodie magnet — endure for decades. Unlike Taipei and Kaohsiung, however, it’s extremely rare for a full-service restaurant to stay in business as long as Uptowner Taichung, which welcomed its first customers in 2014.
The economics of survival
Tim Chen, a Taichung native and proprietor of Huist (卉寓) at No. 3, Lane 22, Shengping Street, West District, concurs that survival in the city’s dining scene is far from guaranteed. He attributes the rapid turnover to relatively low customer loyalty.
“People here tend to choose restaurants according to novelty, and this can mislead new business owners,” says the recipient of the Michelin Guide Taiwan 2024 Young Chef Award. “New restaurants often create a buzz, attracting many customers. However, usually this doesn’t last very long. To survive, owners must chase new market trends, resulting in a shorter operating cycle of just two to three years.”
Dereke Bruce, an industry veteran who ran five restaurants in the city between 1993 and 2020, puts it differently. Taichung “isn’t as discerning a market as some other places,” says the New Zealander, who now divides his time between a Taichung-based food business and teaching at the National Kaohsiung University of Hospitality and Tourism.
“By that I mean, in a place like Hong Kong, if you produce a consistently good product, it’ll be recognized and you’ll probably be wildly successful,” he says. “That doesn’t happen here.” He points to the unwavering popularity of hot pot restaurants, many of which, in his opinion, offer little beyond a convivial atmosphere.
Often dubbed “Taiwan’s hot pot capital,” Taichung has leaned into that reputation, with the city government organizing an annual hot pot and grill festival since 2023. Chen, however, sees the dominance of hot pot and barbecue not as a warning sign but as an opening. “It means there’s a chance to differentiate yourself,” he says. “There are still untapped opportunities in the market.”
Format, too, plays a decisive role in which concepts succeed. Bruce admits to being “astounded at the amount of vegan restaurants” in Taichung, and that he’s “never been able to figure out why tapas restaurants haven’t thrived in this city.”
Habecker may have an explanation. While Japanese dining remains as popular as ever, he says the city has seen a recent surge in izakaya clustered around the West District’s Xiangshang North Road. Like tapas bars, izakaya emphasize small, shareable dishes, but their format appears better suited to local tastes. “This late night, eating-and-drinking model seems to appeal to younger people,” he says.
That same sensitivity to format may explain why a restaurant specializing in classic Chinese American cuisine failed to catch on, even though it was conceived and operated by the business-savvy duo behind Uptowner Taichung. “Americans loved it, but I suspect Taiwanese consumers weren’t quite sure what to make of it,” he surmises.
Despite these challenges, Chen identifies two structural advantages for restaurateurs willing to adapt. First, robust local consumer spending is evident. Many residents, he notes, are willing to pay NT$2,000 or more per person for Huist’s multicourse menus, which fuse Taiwanese flavors with European techniques.
Menu prices have climbed in line with rising costs, but they haven’t scared everyone off. “Taipei and Hsinchu residents tell me they really enjoy Taichung as a weekend destination,” says Habecker. “Not only is dining out in those places significantly more expensive than in Taichung, but getting reservations can be difficult,” he says.
Second, labor pressures in Taichung are less severe than elsewhere. “Many of the young people around me moved here from other cities or counties,” Chen says. “These talented individuals provide stable support for my restaurant, and we can grow together.”
The tourism factor
Although rents for prime locations in Taichung are lower than in Taipei, recovering an initial investment is no easier, Chen cautions. On the bright side, major construction projects — including the expansion of the city’s metro system — are expected to make daily life more convenient and help revive international tourism, which has yet to return to pre-pandemic levels. “The slow recovery of the tourism industry has significantly impacted mid- to high-end restaurants, forcing them to do more local marketing,” says Chen.
Habecker’s conversations with Compass advertisers have made him aware of another apparent link between tourism and restaurant revenues. “Some bosses tell me that business often dips during summertime, and they put this down to Taiwanese people jumping on low-cost flights to Japan or South Korea,” he says.
The inauguration of Taichung MRT’s Green Line in 2021 has yet to have a noticeable influence on the distribution of restaurants, says Habecker. The cluster of cheap eating places that draws people to sections 3 and 4 of Beiping Road in Beitun District predates the opening of nearby Wenxin Chongde Station, he points out. But like Chen, he expects that as the network grows, it will eventually reshape the city’s economy.
A culinary memory
Chen highlights a soup and a noodle dish as proof that Taichungers have a culinary heritage they can be proud of.
Between the early days of the Japanese occupation and the 1970s, Tai-chung’s Nantun and Fengyuan districts were production centers for jute — a long, rough, shiny bast fiber from the bark of Corchorus plants. Fiber from mature plants was used to make gunny sacks, while the families of farm laborers turned the sprouts, shoots, and tender leaves into a rustic delicacy known as má yì tāng (麻薏湯).
Removing the leaves’ natural bitterness requires laborious washing and hand-rubbing, but after boiling — often with sweet potato chunks and small dried fish — they form the base of a soup popular in summer for its cooling properties. Jute-leaf soup is not especially easy to find these days, but one place that often serves it is Zhang’s Noodle Stall (張記麵攤), open only in the mornings at No. 47, Rijin Street in West District.
A thickened soup with noodles called dà miàn gēng (大麵羹) owes its distinctiveness to the alkaline water that’s added during cooking to keep the noodles from becoming mushy.
“The alkaline flavor dissolves into the broth, creating a unique taste — typically this dish is served with dried radish, chives, and Dongquan chili sauce,” says Chen, referring to the Taichung-based condiment brand that’s been part of the city’s culinary landscape since the 1960s. Dà miàn gēng can be enjoyed at Dade Noodles (大德大麵) at No. 130, Dade Street, North District. The restaurant has been praised for low prices and polite service as well as top-grade food.
When creating dishes for his own restaurant, Chen often looks to traditional Taiwanese fare for inspiration. Realizing that he has seldom used milkfish in his career, he recently collaborated with Oliviers & Co., a French premium olive oil brand, to create a stew that combines milkfish with bitter melon.
“The umami of the milkfish balances the bitterness of the bitter melon, while the latter cuts through the oiliness of the milkfish belly, resulting in a rich flavor that isn’t greasy,” he says. “Traditional light seasoning allows the ingredients’ original flavors to naturally layer and complement each other.”
One Taichung-born chain that’s gone from strength to strength is Chun Shui Tang (春水堂). Founded in 1983, it really took off a few years later when it began selling milk tea with sweetened tapioca balls, kickstarting the global phenomenon of bubble tea (also known as pearl milk tea). Chun Shui Tang now operates more than 50 branches across Taiwan, nearly 20 in Japan and 10 in Hong Kong.
While tourists account for a significant proportion of those who dine at Chun Shui Tang’s original branch at No. 30, Siwei Street, West District, the brand retains a following among locals.
The gourmand behind “Flying Hsuan’s Pocket” (飛天璇的口袋) — which has published more than 2,500 Chinese-language blog posts about Taichung eateries since early 2003 — claims to eat there at least four times per month. She’s a big fan of Chun Shui Tang’s kung-fu noodles (功夫麵, gōngfū miàn), because “the minced pork is very fragrant, and there isn’t too much fat.” Another of her favorites is handmade thin noodles with sesame oil (手工麻香麵線, shǒugōng máxiāng miàn xiàn).
Despite having witnessed the success and failure of a great many food ventures, Bruce has an upbeat message for anyone thinking of opening a restaurant in Taichung: “Find a good spot and stick to your game plan. Don’t listen to the crowd!”
