For any foreigner stepping foot in Taiwan, each day feels like navigating an obstacle course. But once you begin to uncover the treasures of this remarkable island, you'll find yourself—just as I did—falling inexplicably in love with the place, eventually calling Taiwan home.

Looking back on my days in Spain, my knowledge of Taiwan was embarrassingly sparse. As a child, whenever I spotted "Made in Taiwan" labels, only one word came to mind: "cheap." But after nearly 17 years of living here, my perspective has been completely transformed.

From the moment I arrived on this island, it wasn't just the rich cultural tapestry and stunning natural landscapes that captivated me—it was the incredible abundance of ingredients that truly bewitched me. This place is nothing short of a chef's paradise! Every visit to the markets, farms, or fishing harbors fills me with the giddy excitement of a child who's wandered into a toy store.

Indigenous Ingredients: Unexpected Flavor Treasures

Most people assume that Taiwan, being largely subtropical country, offers little beyond exceptional fruits and vegetables. But I'm here to tell you that the seafood, poultry, and pork here are of surprisingly outstanding quality. What deserves special mention are those precious indigenous ingredients—and I must thank Master Ah-Ming from Hualien for introducing me to these culinary gems.

While many may have tasted or heard of the renowned maqaw (mountain pepper), it's far from the only treasure waiting to be discovered. Take, for instance, the wasabia koreana leaves you can find in Hualien's markets—they retain wasabi's distinctive aroma without that overwhelming, tear-inducing heat that many find unbearable. Then there are these tiny onions, similar to American pearl onions but with remarkably higher sweetness. Though peeling them is extraordinarily time-consuming, with the right technique they transform into ingredients of genuine culinary brilliance.

Over the years, my wife Terri and I have opened several restaurants in Taiwan—some of you might still remember them. If you've dined with us, you've surely felt my passion for these "unique" ingredients and witnessed the limitless possibilities that Taiwan's produce offers. I recall one particular conversation with a guest who was puzzling over why people always assume imported ingredients are superior. I told him, "Take sardines, for example. While they're not commonly found in Taiwan's fishing ports, when you can get them, I'd wager they're ten times better than anything imported from Europe."

Think about it—imported fish must navigate countless checkpoints: from fishing vessel to port, to exporters, then airport customs, flights across to Asia, local customs again, domestic distributors, and finally to the restaurant. This journey takes roughly a week. So the question becomes: would you choose Taiwanese sardines that were swimming in the ocean just last night, or imported fish that's been in transit for nearly seven days?

For me, the answer couldn't be more obvious.

People often fail to appreciate what they have right in front of them. The moment they see something imported from abroad, they automatically assume it must be superior. Sorry, but that's simply not the case.

A New Life in Yilan: Delightful Encounters with Local Farmers

Ever since Terri and I decided to leave the bustling city behind and open our restaurant in Yilan County, I've discovered ingredients I never could have imagined finding in Taipei. Every day brings interactions with local elderly farmers—I collect free-range eggs myself at dawn, chat with the aunties at the fishing harbor, and embark on countless little adventures centered around ingredients.

Whenever I'm driving past farmland and pull over to walk into the fields, asking if an uncle might sell me a few beautiful carrots or cabbages, they always start with the same bewildered expression. I can practically see them thinking: "Is this foreigner lost?" But because I speak Chinese, they quickly warm up to conversation, and after several visits, we often become genuine friends.

Recently, I've fallen in love with a traditional local tomato variety, and as it happens, the farmer who grows them is my friend's father. My friend believes that buying land for his father to grow vegetables and raise chickens is the perfect way to keep him active and healthy. Most times when I visit the farm, the son is there helping out. But if I arrive later in the day after he's left for work, I'm left alone with the old man, who inevitably complains that after all those years of him working hard to support the family, his son is now making him work just as hard.

But the moment his son appears, he instantly transforms into the picture of gratitude, beaming with appreciation for his thoughtful child. Since I'm in on this little secret, whenever the son leaves and we start talking prices, I playfully "blackmail" the old man, demanding extra carrots or tomatoes to keep me quiet. He always bursts into laughter and declares, "You cheeky foreigner!"

Despite this "extortion" relationship we've developed, he still regularly shows up with fresh produce, heading home with Iberico ham or other imported delicacies in return. When you think about it, trading carrots for Iberico ham isn't exactly a bad deal for him. Writing this, I'm beginning to suspect I'm actually the one being swindled—as my father used to say with a Spanish proverb: "The devil knows more from being old than from being the devil."( El diablo sabe más por viejo que por diablo.)

This is one of the reasons I love what I do: getting to know these dedicated farmers who pour their hearts into cultivating the finest ingredients for us chefs. The care and effort they invest is truly remarkable.

Taiwan Can Launch Its Own Culinary Revolution

A few years ago, I bought a jar of white asparagus for my children—an expensive Spanish imported brand. But when I opened the jar, a single line on the label left me stunned: "Packed in Spain, Grown in Taiwan." Here was yet another example of Taiwanese farmers producing exceptional produce, only to have it shipped abroad for packaging and sold back to Taiwan at ten times the price.

You've probably heard of Spain's culinary revolution. Many assume it began with the genius chef Ferran Adrià and his legendary El Bulli restaurant, but that's not the case. This revolution started decades before Ferran, led by Juan Mari Arzak and a group of fearless chefs who asked themselves a crucial question: "Why do we always value things from other countries more than our own?"

Their answer to this question was the true revolution. They decided to use their renowned restaurants as platforms to showcase local ingredients, transforming them into miracles through their culinary skills. This created a cycle that continues to this day: by using these ingredients, they not only provided farmers with income but also gave them something essential—pride.

The farmers joined this revolution too, showing these chefs their finest products and using the resources they gained to improve their equipment and production methods. After ten years, these efforts finally paid off, laying the foundation for Spanish cuisine as we know it today. The passion these chefs demonstrated for using local ingredients gradually spread to the general public, further promoting the growth of producers. This sense of pride transcended borders as they showcased Spain's exceptional ingredients to the world.

This revolution transformed Spanish cuisine from the most fundamental ingredient sources into world-class gastronomy. I wholeheartedly encourage all readers to explore, taste, and experience local ingredients, support local producers, and launch Taiwan's own culinary revolution.