In an article about beverages for sale on the streets of Taiwan, published in the Japanese-era periodical Minzoku Taiwan (Folk Customs of Taiwan), novelist Atsushi Nitta introduces the flavors of drinks such as iced starfruit, chrysanthemum tea, and grass jelly. He vividly describes this aspect of life in that era, evoking images of people consuming drinks sold by roadside vendors.
 

An essential part of daily life

No matter what the era, beverages have always been a part of everyday life in Taiwan. What is their importance to Taiwanese people?

Tseng Pin-tsang, associate research fellow in the Institute of Taiwan History at the Academia Sinica and an expert on Taiwanese dietary culture, explains that in earlier times every aspect of life in Taiwan was labor-­intensive and the weather was hot, so that people had an intense desire to drink liquids to replenish fluids and to obtain calories. Moreover, when Han Chinese migrants first came to Taiwan as pioneers, the living environment was poor and water contained pathogens that could cause diseases. Hence Taiwanese developed the habit of not eating or drinking anything, including water, without boiling or other­wise cooking it.

When heating water, people would sometimes add edible substances to give the water a particular taste, fragrance or medicinal effect. For example, they added herbs such as Chinese wedelia (Wedelia chinensis) or beggarticks (Bidens pilosa) to make herbal teas, or made barley tea by adding water to roasted barley and bringing it to a boil. Water was no longer just water, but was made into drinks that (in terms of traditional Chinese medicine, TCM) could “promote saliva and quench thirst,” “relieve heat,” or even neutralize gastric acid and relieve bloating.

A century-old sweet flavor

Tseng Pin-tsang has traced the development of beverages in Taiwan through documentary evidence. For example, physician Wu Xinrong (1907–1967), who was active in literary circles in the era of Japanese rule, once described in his diary how his son had a long walk ahead of him, so Wu filled a canteen with winter melon tea for him to carry. Through such textual materials from the past, we can get a glimpse of the beverages people consumed in those days.

Meanwhile the novel Taiwan Travel Chronicles by Yang Shuangzi, set in the Japanese era, is packed with imaginative ideas about food and drink in that era. For example, in Chapter 6 Yang uses the sweet taste of winter melon tea to symbolize an improvement in relations between the two main protagonists.

To find out how winter melon tea is made, we visit the Yi-Feng Winter Melon Factory in Tainan. Established in 1912, it is now run by fourth-generation proprietor Lin Ke-lie.

Winter melon tea (a.k.a. winter melon punch or white gourd tea) can be drunk at home by simply boiling up winter melon tea “bricks” in water. Or one can go to a hand-shaken drinks bar and ring the changes by adding ingredients such as lemon juice, black tea, fresh milk, or tapioca pearls. The fresh, sweet, fruity fragrance of the winter melon tea goes well with such additions, setting off their flavors while not stealing the show, which is why this traditional beverage is nowadays served in so many different ways.

Unlike many winter melon tea bricks sold today, which have winter melon flavoring added, the only raw materials used in Yi-Feng’s winter melon tea bricks are winter melon, granulated sugar, and water. How can such a fragrant product be made from these simple ingredients? That depends entirely on the skill of the chef in charge. Insisting on the old-time methods, Yi-Feng makes their product in a vat made from cypress wood and cast iron. Pressed winter melon juice and white granulated sugar are put into the vat and heated over a low flame, and the mixture is continuously stirred with a long ladle until the sugar is dissolved. The depressions along the rim of the vat are the marks of long years of friction with the ladle’s handle. It takes about two hours to make one vat of winter melon syrup. Lin Ke-lie stands by the vat like a parent watching over a child, stirring the liquid to prevent it from burning while also keeping an eye on changes in viscosity and adjusting the temperature and cooking time as needed.

The process of making the syrup may look easy, but each step depends on skills that are founded in long years of experience. When it comes to the ingredients, for example, Yi-Feng insists on using Taiwan-grown winter melons weighing at least 18 kilograms each. Lin says that the flesh inside large melons is thicker, and only thick flesh yields the authentic winter melon flavor.

After the winter melons are sliced, the flesh must be soaked in food-grade lime for a full day, then washed and dried, before it can it be pressed for the juice. The alkaline lime causes the proteins in the melon flesh to be hydrolyzed into amino acids. Later, when the melon juice and sugar are cooked together, the amino acids and sugar undergo a Maillard reaction, creating the rich, full-bodied distinctive flavor of winter melon syrup that is so appealing.

Smelling the aroma that fills the cooking area, we ask how long the syrup has to be simmered before it can be removed from the vat. Lin says with a laugh that this depends on the weather on any given day. His daughter Lin Yulun relates that in the past the cooking time was determined by “pinching” the syrup. “We would adjust the temperature based on its softness or hardness.” When the syrup had been simmered to a certain consistency, the chef would ladle a small amount into a bowl of cold water and knead it with their fingers, to confirm whether it had reached a state like maltose (malt sugar). Today, although thermometers can be used to measure the temperature of the syrup at the center of the vat to assist chefs in deciding when the syrup is finished, Lin Ke-lie still insists on using the traditional “pinching” method to ensure that it is cooked to the optimal consistency.

After the syrup is removed from the vat, it must be poured evenly into molds. Everyone grabs a spatula and rapidly stirs and smooths out the syrup. Lin Yulun explains that if the concentrate is not stirred, it won’t crystallize and will simply remain syrup. After it has solidified somewhat, the crystallized syrup is carefully cut into square blocks and, after cooling, is removed from the molds, forming winter melon tea bricks.

Unlike many traditional industries that are in decline, since Lin Songshan, the third-generation proprietor of Yi-Feng, passed the business down to his sons, the family has continually branched out, and today there are members of the Lin clan operating winter melon tea outlets across Taiwan. Lin Ke-lie, who took over the factory inherited from his ancestors, has shouldered the heavy responsibility of keeping the business alive. Spending his days beside the syrup vat, he is personally teaching the old-fashioned production techniques to Lin Yulun and his grandson Lin Yushun. Asked why he decided not to open more profitable drinks shops like his brothers, Lin smiles bashfully and responds: “It doesn’t matter how much money I make, what is important is that someone passes along the tradition and takes good care of our customers.”
 

A different take on TCM tea beverages

Another firm that is preserving the flavor of traditional beverages is Wu He Chrysanthemum Tea in Keelung.

On a hot summer’s day, drinking a cup of iced chrysanthemum tea, with its floral fragrance, sweet aftertaste, cooling properties, and smoothness going down, is supremely refreshing from the very first sip. Chrysanthemum tea sold in Taiwan generally has goji berries or Chinese senna seed added, but Wu He makes theirs with five TCM medicinal herbs: chrysanthemum, goji berry, fibrous ginseng root, cinnamon twigs, and dwarf lilyturf root.

However, despite the use of TCM ingredients, Wu He’s chrysanthemum tea does not have the bitter taste that most people associate with medicinal herbs. On the contrary, it has a sweet, refreshing, mild flavor.

Wu He’s proprietor, Tzeng Yi-he, states that the recipe for making chrysanthemum tea with these five TCM ingredients was originally brought from Fuzhou in China by a master tea maker known as “Old Man Chrysanthemum,” who first set up a stall in Keelung’s Anle Market in 1945, then transferred the business to Tzeng’s uncle. Later, when the uncle wanted to retire and none of his children wished to take over, he asked Tzeng Yi-he’s father, Tzeng Shi-lin, if he had any interest in doing so. “I couldn’t bear to see this delicious taste be lost!” says Tzeng Shi-lin, explaining why he agreed to inherit the formula and techniques for making the tea. He soon came to be called “Uncle Chrysanthemum” by local people.

It’s all in the details

Today, this business is in the hands of the fourth generation. Tzeng Yi-he and his wife, Lai Yi-hua, have opened a shop named Wu He (referring to the “five ingredients”). People often ask Tzeng why his large shop does not sell more items, but he says wryly that he is kept busy enough as it is with just the chrysanthemum tea. Using carefully selected chrysanthemums from Tongluo in Miaoli County, he aims to produce a perfect floral flavor and ensure that the chrysanthemums are not cooked to the point where they produce a bitter taste.

To achieve this, he first puts the flowers to soak in hot water, then places rock sugar in a wok and heats it while stirring until it reaches a consistency similar to maltose syrup. Then the other four TCM ingredients are added to the sugar and the resulting mixture is simmered. When cooking this herbal syrup, it is necessary to stay at the stove and stir continuously to prevent the mixture burning at the bottom of the wok.

Tzeng says that it is only when this process is finished that the real show begins. A large gauze bag containing the presoaked chrysanthemum flowers is placed into a large stockpot, and the concentrated herbal syrup is ladled into the bag. Tzeng has to grasp the bag with both hands and move it up and down continually in the stockpot to blend the flowers into the hot syrup—this is the key to getting a good flavor.

To ensure high quality, Tzeng and Lai do everything themselves, and they scoop out every serving of chrysanthemum tea with a ladle. People have suggested that they use the tea dispensers widely used in drinks shops, with which the tea can be poured just by turning a spigot. Lai Yi-hua explains that because the herbal ingredients can settle at the bottom and ice cubes are added to the tea container, the tea needs to be stirred before scooping out a serving. Moreover, they must continually check the sweetness and temperature of the tea. Only in this way can they ensure consistent quality.
 

The human touch

Although Tzeng Shi-lin has retired and turned the business over to his son, when he speaks of days gone by when he had a stall in a traditional market, his eyes light up with nostalgia. Many people living in the neighborhood would drop by for a glass of his tea, and some folks even rode their bicycles or motor scooters to the front of his stand and finished off a refreshing chrysanthemum tea in just a few gulps, and then returned a few hours later when they were thirsty again, as if the stall offered a modern drive-through service. Customers would often stop and chat with Tzeng, and sometimes they would lose themselves in conversation, until both parties had forgotten whether the customer had paid.

From Tzeng Yi-he helping his father at the market stall to him and Lai Yi-hua opening their own shop, Lai says that they all cherish the warmth of human interactions with their patrons. This is why they have installed seating inside the shop, and many regular customers will sit at the counter and chat with her. But they also provide outdoor seating, and the store’s location near the Keelung Maritime Plaza offers wide-open vistas and the sight of ships entering and leaving the harbor. “The view is excellent!” she declares.

They chose to open their shop on the historic Kee­lung coffee street of Xiao 1st Road with an eye to serving cruise ship passengers. Many people fall in love with Wu He’s chrysanthemum tea the first time they drink it. “Many Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Thai, Singaporean, and Indonesian tourists drink our tea, which shows its broad appeal!” says Tzeng Yi-he with a smile.

Next time you come to Taiwan, besides drinking pearl milk tea (boba tea), don’t forget to try the island’s old-time local beverages.

For more pictures, please click 《Nostalgic Old-Time Beverages: Winter Melon Tea and Chrysanthemum Tea》