Death by Cholesterol at the Shilin Night Market

Off The Rails:
Chientian Station

Death by Cholesterol at the Shilin Night Market

Is the horrible futility of life weighing ever heavier upon your soul, causing you to go to sleep praying for death, and wake each morning with a cry of "oh, what agony is this life?" But you're scared of heights, don't know how to tie a decent knot, and cant read enough Chinese to figure out what twenty times the recommended dosage of anything sold over the counter is. Well chum, while physician assisted suicide is illegal in Taiwan, there is one sure-fire way to ensure a relatively quick, probably painless, and definitely delicious demise: Death by Cholesterol at the Shilin Night Market

Over a century old, the Shilin night market is justly famous for both the quality, quantity, and authenticity of cuisine. And a meal at the market won't actually give you a cholesterol level measurable in kilograms; that is, of course, if you follow these directions: From the Chientian station, head north into the right side of the market, where you'll find the outdoor food market, which serves relatively slow-killing delicacies. The area is a good place to fill yourself up on delicious dumplings, fried pastries, duck wings, squid-on-a-stick, and my personal favorite, the extremely messy but well worth it snow crab.

Readers not inclined to live much longer will want to skip this lighter fare, and instead hang a right at the market's southern tip and make their way into the enclosed food court that is the Shilin night market's greasy innards. Aiding and abetting in suicide is illegal in Taiwan; I therefore am required by law to couch my advice to you, my depressed friend, in negative terms: First, do not order as an appetizer three famous Taiwanese oyster pancakes, delicious fresh oysters folded into a pure egg batter and fried in lard. Then, do not go to one of the cho dofu stalls and get yourself a few orders of deep fried fermented tofu served with a heaping helping of pickled vegetables and hot sauce. Finally, you are well advised to avoid entirely getting a famous "Taiwanese beefsteak." This meal, which consists of a huge slab of beef fried in lard or butter on a hot plate, served with a plate of greasy spaghetti BUT not before having a raw egg cracked on top of it and being slathered with beef gravy, will (sooner or later) almost certainly kill you.

Should you foolishly disparage my advice, and head down to the back-end food court at the Shilin night market (perhaps taking a few of your drunken frat-boy buddies with you to engage in some sort of ill-conceived eating contest), you will almost certainly die of heart failure within the hour. However, should dame fate decide that your ticket is not yet up, and somehow give your tormented cardiovascular system the strength to drive out the pounds of grease which you, in your melancholic stupor, pumped in there, consider yourself blessed. Do not, under any circumstances, return for a desert of half-a-dozen da bing p'ao hsiao bing (big cake wrapped around little cake), the fried delight that is a specialty of the food court.

I've never been much for sentimentality, so maybe my readers don't know how much I treasure each and every one of you. But I do. No matter how bad things seem, just remember that this too shall pass. So please, think long and hard before going to the Shilin night market and drowning your sorrows in any or all of these gastronomic monstrosities. Except for you, the one who heckled me while I was on stage at the Mr. Foreign Taiwan pageant - you can eat whatever you want.