In Taiwan, food is rarely just sustenance-it is a metaphor for history and identity. On November 21, 2024, Taiwanese literature reached a significant milestone on the international stage: Taiwan Travelogue, written by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ and translated by Taiwanese-American translator Lin King, won the National Book Award for Translated Literature. Through the intertwining of food and fiction, the novel opened a window onto the complex, layered beauty of Taiwanese identity.

Set during the period of Japanese rule, Taiwan Travelogue follows Japanese writer Aoyama Chizuko as she travels along Taiwan's Western Trunk Line in the company of her Taiwanese interpreter, Ông Tshian-hóh. Through the nuanced exchanges between the two women, the novel maps the constraints facing Taiwanese and Japanese women alike in that era-and explores questions of local identity in Taiwan. Its twelve chapters take their titles from twelve Taiwanese foods: kue-tsí (roasted seeds), bí-thai-ba̍k (silver needle vermicelli), muâ-ínn thng (jute soup), sashimi, bah-sò (braised minced pork), tang-kue-tê (winter melon tea), curry, sukiyaki, tshài-bué thng (leftovers soup), tau-mī (potato noodle stew), kiâm-nn̄g-ko (savory cake), and mitsumame (fruit and jelly ice). Food, here, is the key to decoding history and culture.

A culinary journey along the trunk line

Among all the dishes that appear in the novel, kiâm-nn̄g-ko-savory cake-stands out as particularly striking. Its origins trace back to 1908 and the inauguration of Taiwan's Western Trunk Line under Japanese rule. The cake was created by Lü Shui, a pastry chef from Fengyuan District, Taichung City, and the proprietor of Xuehuazhai. Tasked with preparing refreshments for Prince Kan'in Kotohito of the Japanese imperial family, Lü found himself without sugar. He improvised, substituting a savory braised pork filling-and earned the prince's praise. The confection went on to become a celebrated local specialty. Today, a common version uses a light chiffon cake base with a filling of fried shallots, bamboo shoots, shiitake mushrooms, and dried shrimp, yielding a flavor that is at once sweet and savory, tender without being cloying.

In Taiwan Travelogue, this historically charged treat takes on deeper cultural resonance. Kiâm-nn̄g-ko is not merely food-it becomes a flashpoint for cultural tension. When Aoyama Chizuko marvels at the "island's flavors", Mishma san pushes back: does such admiration conceal a consuming gaze, the kind that savors an exotic taste without truly understanding the history that produced it? The sweet and savory notes of kiâm-nn̄g-ko collide not only on the tongue, but in the space between language and power. Through this scene, kiâm-nn̄g-ko becomes a symbolic vessel for Taiwanese culture itself-a testament to how, during the Japanese rule, Taiwanese society drew on everyday ingenuity to transform foreign forms into flavors of its own.