Taiwan's Bento—How Everyday Comfort Food Conquered Japan

The Taste of Childhood Bento

I can't recall the shop's name. It was unremarkable—just a modest storefront—yet a line always snaked out the door, and the air filled with the sizzle of frying and irresistible aromas. The signature fried chicken cutlets and pork chops dwarfed my small hands, making every visit an agonizing choice. 

I always ate my bento in the car. Opening the freshly packed box, I'd find steaming white rice topped with an enormous pork chop, the rice beneath soaked through with braising sauce. I’d blow on the hot pork chop to cool it, and take that first bite—sweet and salty sauce flooding my mouth with what felt like magic, making me momentarily forget the dreaded lessons awaiting me. 

I also loved the bento my mother packed daily. Alongside the main dish sat a braised egg and some vegetables, the white rice infused with the same fragrant braising sauce. I'd place my aluminum lunch box in the crate at the front of the classroom, and the class monitors would carry them all to the steam box. By noon, our piping hot bentos returned to us. 

But how did Taiwan’s hot bento tradition begin? Taiwan's bento culture traces back to the Japanese colonial era, when ekiben (railway station bento) arrived on the island. Early Taiwan bentos resembled their Japanese counterparts—served cold with dishes like tamagoyaki and fish cakes. After the war ended in 1945, Chinese refugees and military personnel who relocated to Taiwan found cold bentos unpalatable. They began reheating them and incorporating distinctly Taiwanese spices like star anise. From this cultural fusion, Taiwan's bento evolved its unique character.

Taiwan vs. Japan: Contrasting Aesthetics and Flavor

When I returned to Japan for middle school, I was dismayed to discover that the "piping hot bento" I'd taken for granted simply didn't exist there.

Japanese bentos may be visually appealing—octopus-shaped sausages, star-cut carrots, cherry tomatoes, broccoli arranged in neat, colorful rows. But to me, Taiwan's bento held far greater appeal: that generous main dish laid boldly atop steaming rice, all in a single, unapologetic shade of brown.

The cold Japanese bento with its rice and side dishes compartmentalized felt bland to this child raised in Taiwan. In those early days, I often yearned for Taiwanese flavors. As years passed, however, those bento memories faded and blurred.

It wasn't until after I turned 40, when work and travel brought me back to Taiwan frequently, that I reunited with Taiwan's bento.

While researching for a book, I traveled across Taiwan and discovered that each region boasts its own famous bento. These encounters awakened dormant memories, and sampling local specialties became one of my greatest travel pleasures.

In eastern Taiwan, Chishang Township in Taitung is renowned for its rice. Near the train station, numerous Chishang Bento shops do brisk business. The side dishes typically include pork chops, sausage, and braised eggs, but the real star is the rice itself—fragrant, springy, and perfectly separated grains that leave you craving another bowl.

Moving north, Fulong Station is surrounded by bento shops where the signature dish is braised pork. The aromatic braised pork paired with unlimited servings of Taiwanese preserved radish creates what feels like a Taiwanese food paradise. Nearby Yilan features bentos centered on local duck, the smoky aroma equally mouthwatering. Further south, indigenous communities in Pingtung County offer distinctive varieties featuring red quinoa, a local specialty, alongside bentos with chicken marinated in red yeast rice.

Delicious, Abundant, Affordable: The Key to Taiwan's Bento Appeal