Back to late Qing dynasty: Songs and theater await
In modern Taiwan, gathering with family and friends often involves dining at upscale restaurants with live performances or ordering gourmet dishes to enjoy at home—conveniently sidestepping the hassle of cooking or the risks of culinary missteps.
However, such luxuries are not unique to our time. Rewind to the late Qing dynasty, and you’ll find Taiwan already had jiulou, traditional upscale restaurants where the elite could dine or even order food delivery services.
Before the emergence of jiulou, the gentry who valued refined lifestyles would often host banquets in private hua ting (花廳; flower halls) within their residences, such as the White Flower Hall of Banqiao Lin Family or the Dahua Hall of Wufeng Lin family.
While modern diners often bury their heads in their phones during meals, rarely engaging in conversation, the gentry of the late Qing period made full use of their dining time. Guests would savor exquisite dishes while enjoying musical performances or theater, creating a sensory feast that blended sight, sound and taste.
After the opening of Taiwan’s ports during the late Qing period, the influx of scholars, merchants and officials increased the demand for banquets and social gatherings. This high-spending, gastronomy-loving clientele needed upscale public dining spaces, which likely spurred the rise of jiulou.
If you’re an introvert dreading small talk, fear not—dining at a jiulou in the late Qing era offered ample entertainment to ease any awkward silences.
Performances by yidan (藝旦; female entertainers) provided musical accompaniment, while Liyuan theater troupes staged dramatic performances. The yidan acts were akin to the singers we see at modern corporate banquets, featuring melodic performances of mournful Nanyin or lively Beiguan and luantan tunes, accompanied by musicians.
Just as today’s top singers dominate corporate wishlists, the late Qing’s “Abo (阿波)” was a superstar in Taipei, famed for her beauty and singing prowess. Some jiulou even invited Liyuan troupes from Fuzhou, adding theatrical flair to banquets that elevated the cultural ambiance.
What was it really like to dine at a jiulou in the late Qing? Perhaps this poetic verse will leave you room to imagine:
Truly, the scenery of the jiulou is splendid,
Only my purse lacks the coin to purchase mountains.
— by Feng-Shi Lee (李逢時; 1829-1876), a Qing dynasty scholar-official candidate during Emperor Xianfeng era.
Back to Japanese colonial era: Diverse cuisine, yet jiulou remain beloved
Between 1895 and 1911, during Taiwan’s transition to Japanese rule, jiulou flourished even more. At the same time, Japanese-style ryotei and Western-style restaurants began to appear, established by Japanese settlers.
Modern visitors traveling back to this era might be excited by the chance to try authentic Japanese or Western cuisine. However, these establishments primarily catered to Japanese clientele.
Japanese cuisine, with its raw and cold dishes, didn’t suit the Taiwanese palate, nor did the long kneeling required for hours in a ryotei. Western dining, on the other hand, was expensive and bound by complex etiquette, making it less appealing to most locals.
In the Qing dynasty, aspiring officials sought advancement through the imperial examination system. Under Japanese rule, however, there was no such system.
To gain influence and recognition, Taiwanese elites had to engage in socializing and networking with Japanese officials, demonstrating their social standing and capabilities. Banquets hosted by these elites gradually shifted from private hua ting in family residences to public spaces like jiulou.
To use modern terms, hosting a gathering in a hua ting was akin to throwing a house party, while holding one in a jiulou was more like organizing a party at a restaurant. Despite the arrival of ryotei and Western restaurants, jiulou remained the primary venue for gatherings among Taiwanese gentry and Japanese officials.
Iconic establishments included Ping Le You (平樂遊) and Dong Hui Fang (東薈芳) in Taipei, as well as Zui Xian Lou (醉仙樓) and Bao Mei Lou (寶美樓) in Tainan. These places continued to be the heart of social dining, offering a mix of culinary and cultural experiences that bridged tradition and modernity.
The jiulou of this era offered a wide variety of exquisite dishes, many crafted by master chefs from Fuzhou. These Fuzhou chefs were likely once private cooks for the Qing dynasty’s upper class, while others were skilled culinary experts from the general populace. With the fall of the regime or after honing their craft, these master chefs brought their talents to the bustling jiulou, showcasing their exceptional skills.
However, attracting patrons was not solely about the food—entertainment has always been a key ingredient in the appeal of these establishments. If you were fortunate enough to attend a banquet during this time, you wouldn’t just enjoy yidan or Liyuan performances. You might also encounter another aspect of indulgence: the dual pleasures of “food” and “companionship.”
During the Japanese colonial period, the concept of jofu (酌婦; female drink companions) was introduced by the Japanese. These women not only engaged in conversation and poured drinks but, as the night progressed, might also offer sexual services.
But don’t be too quick to shed your clothes—according to the diaries of many gentry at the time, sexually transmitted diseases were rampant. So, sticking to enjoying your meal was undoubtedly the wiser choice.
Three stages featured Liyuan performances, with one stage dedicated to performances by Japanese actresses. accompanied by geishas and drink companions serving wine. The banquet carried on until after 7 PM.
— Diary of the Host of Shuizhuju (《水竹居主人日記》; February 21, 1914)
Not in the mood for restaurants? Stay home for a heartwarming sukiyaki
In today’s Taiwan, college students and office workers often gather for hot pot meals on chilly winter days, cooking and chatting together, warming not only their bodies but also their bonds. A similar type of social dining existed in Taiwan during the Japanese colonial period.
For young Taiwanese of the time, jiulou with its refined dishes was often too expensive. Instead, they opted for cozy gatherings at home with friends, sharing a steaming pot of family-style sukiyaki gathering.
This sukiyaki tradition was particularly popular among intellectuals who had received a Japanese education or maintained close ties with Japanese acquaintances. It was an affordable yet meaningful way to foster connections and enjoy good food.
Sukiyaki is a type of Japanese hot pot featuring beef, tofu and vegetables. In Taiwan, however, locals adapted the dish by using pork or chicken instead of beef. Prepared as a communal hot pot, sukiyaki embodied a spirit of freedom and equality.
Everyone sat together, cooking and serving themselves, free from rigid dining etiquettes or hierarchical rules. This relaxed atmosphere helped bridge gaps and strengthen bonds among peers.
With its simple preparation and affordable ingredients, sukiyaki gathering became the centerpiece of social gatherings for young people at the time. Even Taiwanese politician and activist Hsien-Tang Lin (林獻堂), who regularly attended countless formal banquets, would host or attend sukiyaki gatherings at home with close friends on a rotating basis.
The informal and lively ambiance of sukiyaki gatherings likely offered a refreshing contrast to the structured and often hierarchical nature of jiulou banquets, making it a setting for joyous drinking and carefree camaraderie.
Intellectuals dine and save the nation: The rise of Taiwanese cuisine
Nowadays in Taiwan, social movements like the Sunflower Student Movement or Pride Parades allow people to openly express their ideas and stances by taking to the streets. During the Japanese colonial era, however, Taiwanese intellectuals had to find subtler ways to resist, often gathering in jiulou to organize in secrecy.
Unlike delivering speeches in public venues like guild halls, opening remarks at a banquet in a jiulou were less likely to attract the attention of Japanese authorities. Believing that Taiwanese gatherings were simply for dining and socializing, the government imposed less strict surveillance.
As a result, Taiwanese intellectuals, led by figures like Hsien-Tang Lin and Wei-Shui Chiang (蔣渭水), used jiulou banquets to subtly promote anti-Japanese ideas. Wei-Shui Chiang even purchased Chun Feng De Yi Building (春風得意樓) to establish a Taiwanese-owned social hub.
After the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, wartime food shortages redirected attention toward local cuisine. Prior to this, the so-called “Taiwanese dishes” served in jiulou were largely refined Chinese dishes crafted by chefs from Fuzhou, Guangdong or Sichuan. These included delicacies like braised shark fin, ten-ingredient hot pots, crispy roast chicken and sweet-and-sour fish.
In contrast, everyday Taiwanese meals were simple home-style dishes, such as stir-fried water spinach or sweet potato strips. As imported ingredients became scarce due to the war, jiulou began to incorporate local ingredients and transform traditional home dishes into banquet fare. Classic Taiwanese dishes like egg omelet with dried shredded radish or milkfish became part of formal dining, marking the emergence of “Taiwanese flavors” in banquet cuisine.
If you wish to savor dishes with authentic Taiwanese characteristics while mingling with the intellectuals of the time, a visit to Shanshuiting (山水亭) is highly recommended. Founded in 1937 by Jing-Quan Wang (王井泉) in Dadaocheng (大稻埕), it earned the nickname “Taipei’s cultural salon,” offering a unique fusion of food and thought.
In 1941, Taiwan implemented strict material control policies, requiring all food to be acquired through rationing. Yet, Shanshuiting defied these limitations by sourcing ingredients through the black market and local farmers in Beitou, ensuring a steady supply of fresh and authentic Taiwanese dishes.
The menu featured delights like gua bao (pork belly buns), chilled chicken feet, stir-fried pickled cabbage with shrimp, and braised winter melon with pork.
From farm to table, Shanshuiting preserved and promoted the culinary traditions of Taiwanese life, enriching not only the palate but also the emotional and cultural ties of its patrons.
While Shanshuiting lacked the spacious banquet halls and live yidan performances of upscale jiulou, its charm lay in its intimate and tasteful ambiance. Every table was adorned with flowers, and diners could enjoy meals or tea accompanied by music from a phonograph.
This created a refreshing retreat within the war-torn city, attracting a loyal following among Taiwan’s literary and artistic circles. For many of the era’s cultural elites, Shanshuiting felt like a second home.
If you’re the kind of person who loves browsing farmer’s markets on weekends or spending afternoons in art galleries and concert halls, traveling back to this era would make Shanshuiting an ideal stop.
Here, you could savor the richness of locally sourced Taiwanese cuisine while engaging in lively exchanges with Taiwan’s literary figures. Just be mindful of the occasional air raids, a reminder of the turbulent times outside this culinary sanctuary.