Bao restaurant founder Erchen Chang leads a food tour of Taipei

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If you don’t know Taipei but know Tokyo or Shanghai, you might think it’s loads of high-rises. But no, there are probably only a couple – then a lot of low buildings. Taipei is very understated in terms of its architecture; Taiwan is relatively a new country. There’s a sense of grey across the city that, for me, is similar to being in London. It’s quite wet; it’s slightly dystopian. But there are lots of pockets and people that make it worth visiting. 

I left Taipei for London when I was 14 – I’d always been interested in art and Taiwan’s education was more academic – but I come back every year. When I graduated from the Slade School of Fine Art in 2012, I took my husband and sister-in-law on a road trip here. We ate gua bao – bao stuffed with pork belly – at Lan Jia Gua Bao, then went to Jiaoxi Baozi in Yilan, a famous baozi place (baozi is like an enclosed bao). We had the most pillowy, light buns – big but very airy. When we came back to London, we started trying to crack our own recipe. That led to a pop-up, then a market space. We opened our first permanent restaurant in 2015.

That sensation of eating spicy food and drinking beer – it’s just the best feeling

Bao is famous, but it’s not in the top five foods here. Ask a Taiwanese person and they’ll probably mention beef noodles, fried chicken or lu rou fan (soy-braised pork over rice) first. For the latter I go to MoonMoonFood on Qingdao East Road. One of my favourite restaurants, Chi Chia Chuang, is nearby. It’s famous for its three-treasure chicken (poached, smoked and black). The birds are free-range so you can really taste the flavour, and the skin is a bit thicker; having a jelly layer between the skin and meat is the best thing you can get. 

Taiwanese people love hot pot, and a good place to go is Chan Chi Hot Pot Lab. It has a station with minced garlic, chives and coriander on one side, and soy sauce, vinegar, chilli oil and doubanjiang (a fermented chilli paste) on the other. You can also choose your own music, which is slightly gimmicky but super-fun. That sensation of eating spicy food and drinking beer, you’re a bit hot, then your favourite song comes on – it’s just the best feeling. Cinematic in a way, but with all the senses. 

Zhongshan, near Taipei main station, was quite low-key when I was growing up. Now it’s the place where people hang out most. Near there you have Dadaocheng, old-town Taipei, where you can walk around and visit traditional grocery shops. They’ve done a good job of revamping the area recently, but not overly so. There’s a temple, Cisheng, which has been kept as it is, with rows of street food stores that specialise in individual dishes in front of it, surrounded by huge trees – a classic Taiwanese street scene. 

The National Palace Museum is where my interest in art came from. During the Chinese civil war a lot of art was sent to the museum, so there are amazing Chinese objects, paintings and sculptures. There’s also the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts and small galleries doing cool stuff. My friend did a show at Bridge Hole, which has a box at the front of the shopfront; artists can decide whether they hold a show inside or in the box. It looks like a scene by Tsai Ming-liang, a Taiwan-based Malaysian director who makes films that are very bleak and focus on everyday mundanity. But then there are moments where his imagination takes off and a full-on musical happens. People didn’t like him filming these unglamorous places in Taipei – a meat market, for example. But there’s something about being so truthful that is very comforting. 

I would recommend everyone to go to their closest market here. Huguang Market is traditional – there’s nothing fancy about it – but when I visited I was obsessed with all the produce: beautiful daikons, amazing cuts of meat. The way the meat is butchered is totally different to, say, a butcher in London. I also like the theatrics of these places. There’s always someone selling woks and they use these super-strong blowtorches to show you how amazingly indestructible they are. It’s quite a scene. 

At night, I go to Linjiang night market, where I usually eat at Luo Ji Xiao Chao. It serves lamb, beef, conch and clams marinated in a secret soy-based sauce. Then it has piles of morning glory and basil – all very simple. If I grow old in Taiwan, I picture myself sitting in that shop, drinking my Taiwanese beer, eating my stir‑fry with plump, plain rice, and just watching the people go by.