Gua bao are part of Taiwan’s traditional local cuisine, and their core ingredients are an open steamed bun, pork, peanut powder, pickled mustard greens, and coriander. The sandwich looks like a tiger’s mouth biting down on a piece of pork, so it is also called “tiger bites pig.” In Chinese this name sounds similar to “gripping good fortune with the teeth,” so gua bao symbolize good luck and happiness.
 

The origins of gua bao

Gua bao are reputed to have originated in either Quanzhou or Fuzhou in China’s Fujian Province. Their earliest appearance in Taiwanese historical documents dates back to 1927, in a diary entry by Huang Wangcheng, a member of the Taiwanese gentry: “Today is the year-end banquet, and requests have come in to make ‘tiger bites pig’ in appreciation of the staff’s hard work.”

This record offers a number of clues to the history of gua bao, explains Chen Yu-jen, a professor in the Department of Taiwan Culture, Languages, and Literature at National Taiwan Normal University with an interest in culinary culture: “In the old days gua bao were called ‘tiger bites pig.’ From ­documentary evidence, it seems that back then gua bao were consumed mainly by merchants. They were not a food that ordinary people had on normal days, but were only eaten at particular times of the year.” In those days of material poverty, pork was a rare treat, so people had the chance to eat gua bao only on special occasions like year-end banquets or when venerating the local earth god.

Chen adds that the buns for gua bao are made from wheat flour. Although the main staple food in Taiwan is rice, some wheat-based foods were already available in the Qing Dynasty. However, Taiwan produces little wheat itself, so most of it has to be imported by ship, and naturally the prices back in the day were at a premium. This further illustrates the class nature of gua bao consumption.

It was not until the 1970s that gua bao became widespread in the daily lives of ordinary people. By trawling through news­paper data­bases, Chen discovered that it was only then that gua bao began appearing in reports on everyday consumer behavior and gradually became a street food.
 

International counterparts

Jewel Tsai, a food writer who has spent many years overseas, observes: “In less than 20 years, gua bao has become an inter­national trend.” She offers the following analysis: “I think of gua bao as fitting into a food paradigm. In terms of structure, many countries have foods in their dietary cultures which are meat wrapped inside bread, like the British sandwich, the American hamburger, the Italian panini, the Vietnamese bánh mì, roujiamo from Xi’an in China, and shawarma, which is so popular in the Middle East.” Perhaps it is a sense of familiarity that enables foreigners to call to mind similar foods when they see gua bao, so that they can more easily accept them.

Tsai traces the international popularity of gua bao back to the 2006 opening in Manhattan by a Korean-American, David Chang, of the restaurant Momofuku, which made its name with gua bao and ramen. In 2009, the second-generation Taiwanese-­American Eddie Huang opened a restaurant called Baohaus in New York, selling authentic Taiwanese gua bao using pork belly cooked the way his grandmother taught him. Unfortunately the restaurant closed in 2020 as a result of the pandemic.

In Europe, a Taiwanese woman named Chang Erchen, her husband Chung Shing Tat, who is a Hong Konger with British citizenship, and his sister Chung Wai Ting set up in business in Hackney in East London selling Taiwanese gua bao in 2013, and opened a branch in Soho in 2016. Bao Soho has featured in the Michelin Bib Gourmet list for seven straight years, and today they have six outlets around London. There are similarly named eateries such as Bao Wow and Little Bao in Hong Kong, and Bao Down in Vancouver. Tsai notes that the word bao used to be translated as “steamed bun” or “pork belly bun,” but as the fashion for gua bao has spread, the term bao itself has become widely known around the globe.

The Bao restaurant chain in the UK has led the way in reimagining gua bao. Jewel Tsai says they have turned their gua bao into a party food that people can eat while standing at a bar drinking Taiwan beer, bubble tea, or even a martini. Gua bao have become popular among the young, and are strongly associated with urban living and socializing.

The format of gua bao offers chefs scope for exercising their imaginations. For example, says Tsai, “Xiaolongbao are sealed shut, so it’s difficult to change them. But gua bao buns are open on one side, and people can be creative with what they put inside. Pork is the basic format, but some people fill the buns with chicken breast, fish fillet, kimchi, tempura, ice cream, chocolate, or vegetarian meat—anything goes. I feel that gua bao are still being developed and there are many more possibilities.”

We also ask Tsai about gua bao’s connection with Taiwan. She says, “It’s not important who created or invented them. I think what matters most is who makes them the best.”

“You certainly can say that among ethnic Chinese, Taiwanese make the best gua bao. We’ve always cared about the best way to deal with that ‘piece of meat,’ and have taken particular care with how to braise it, the ratio of fat to lean, and layering of flavors, including the golden ratio of peanut powder and pickled mustard greens,” concludes Tsai.
 

The ultimate gua bao

Yuan Fang Guabao, located in Taipei’s Huaxi Street Night Market, is a venerable eatery that opened in 1955. It too is on the Michelin Bib Gourmet list. Owner Wu Huang-yi goes to the market every morning to buy fresh streaky pork, which he puts in a stockpot along with traditional Chinese spices, sugar, and soy sauce, to simmer for over an hour. Then he removes the meat from the pot to cool, and as the day goes on he stews pieces of meat in a small pot as needed according to the number of customers. Wu explains that this convoluted process ensures that the pork is not overcooked and will not break apart, which is why Yuan Fang’s gua bao retain the chewiness of the pig skin. Wu is very meticulous about this process and insists on having this texture.

Lan Jia Guabao, in Taipei’s Gongguan area, has been on the Michelin Bib Gourmand list for three straight years, and its products have even been served at state banquets. Asked where he acquired his skills, owner Jack Lan replies: “From my mom.” The shop has no secret recipe, but uses selected Taiwan pork, cooked in a simple way. Lan first sautés shallots and garlic in a wok, adds the meat and continues sautéing, then further adds brown sugar and soy sauce and simmers the mixture, with the whole process taking four to five hours.

People today are concerned about healthy eating, and many have turned away from fatty foods. Based on customer suggestions, Jack Lan changed his menu to let people order gua bao with meat that is fatty, lean, or various gradations in between. Seasonings include Hakka pickled mustard greens, and peanut powder from a century-old Taiwanese producer. He even has bought coriander at the steep price of NT$1,000 a kilo, because he is not willing to skimp on ingredients.

Ah-Song Gua Bao, located in Tainan’s Yongle Market, has been around for at least 80 years. The flavor and seasonings originally came from Fujian ­Province. Third-­generation owner Lin Chaohui explains that at first his grandfather sold buns with meat, pouring the meat juices over the buns. But after coming to Taiwan he discovered that local people did not take to this serving style, so after some experimentation he settled on meat wrapped in buns. Today, every morning at around 1 a.m. Lin starts simmering pig’s tongue and pig’s head in traditional Chinese spices. Each type of meat has its own texture, so he pays particular attention to their different cooking times. Moreover, says Lin, “because this is not braising, you have make extra sure the ingredients are fresh.”

The bun of Ah-Song’s gua bao has a texture like mantou steamed buns. They also use different ingredients than other vendors, preferring the roots of the leaf mustard plant to pickled mustard greens because the former are crisper, and using pickled daikon radish to provide a more refreshing mouthfeel. They top off their gua bao with specially made peanut sauce.

Joe Luo, the owner of Love Bao Taiwanese Kitchen, lived abroad for many years before returning to Taiwan in 2015 and opening his first gua bao shop in Keelung. He says: “Because my shop was near the Keelung Night Market, many foreign tourists ate my gua bao and were delighted with them, so I thought there could be a market for them overseas.” In 2017 he closed up his Taiwan store and moved to North Carol­ina in the US, where he reopened in 2019.

Ethnic Chinese make up only a small part of the population in North Carolina, but gua bao have been greeted with un­expected enthusiasm by locals. People have asked him: “How is it that such unremarkable ingredients as pork, a bun, pickled mustard greens, and peanut powder can be combined together to make something so delicious?”

In fact, Luo learned his skills from his father-in-law. “He taught me to first pan-fry the streaky pork piece by piece to bring out the fat, so that the mouthfeel is not so greasy. That’s the secret.”

Wu Huang-yi says: “I make gua bao with a unique flavor. That’s what makes them special.”

Jack Lan says: “What I preserve is the flavor of home.”

Lin Chaohui says: “Satisfied eaters are what keep this family business going, and keep these flavors and memories alive.”

Joe Luo says: “My modest hope is that foreigners will recognize what is good about Taiwan through our foods.”

With so many people sweating over their stoves to preserve the “memories” of our taste buds and using cuisine to “communicate” with other people, how could you not love this unique flavor?

For more pictures, please click《A Street Food Goes International: Taiwan’s Gua Bao》