Let's Get Sauced! Taiwan's Great Old Sauces

On entering the Mingteh Food factory in Kao­hsiung’s ­Alian District, the first things that capture one’s attention are 300-some neatly arranged ceramic vats and the sweet natural scent of fermenting beans. Ming­teh’s third-generation owner and general manager Liu Yu-pang points to the vats and says: “They all date to father’s and grand­father’s time. The business license number of the manu­facturer is still on top. They are very much products of their era.”

The image in the background is an old photo of workers stirring the vats. The goods in the foreground are a newly packaged series of products celebrating the firm’s connection to military dependents’ villages. Our picture bears witness to that historical legacy.

Three generations: From Sichuan to Gangshan

Mingteh has been in Kao­hsiung’s neighboring Gang­shan District for more than 60 years. The Annals of Gang­shan, published by the Gang­shan District Office in 1986, describes how a local named Liu Ming-teh opened a food plant in 1950, which produced a bean paste that would become famous throughout Taiwan. But why would bean paste become so identified with Gang­shan?

The story begins with Liu Yu-pang’s grandfather Liu Ming-teh, who was an air-force sergeant. When the ROC military decamped for Taiwan, Ming-teh was assigned to live in a military dependents’ village in Gang­shan. He was an Yi­guan­dao adherent and held meetings for fellow believers. In that repressive era, such meetings weren’t permitted, and consequently he was fired from the air force and kicked out of the military dependents’ village.

The family needed to make ends meet, and Liu and his wife remembered how every family would make bean paste when they were stationed in Si­chuan. They drew from their memories to produce just such a paste. Because there were many families from S­ichuan in the air-force villages who longed for the authentic flavor of home, word of his sauce spread through the area, and even visitors from elsewhere bought jars of the sauce for themselves and as gifts for friends and family. That’s the history of how Gang­shan became so tied to bean paste.

Under the leadership of the second-generation owner, Liu Ping-jung, the company bought a factory building, acquired much equipment, improved production processes, and took the first steps toward mechanized mass production. In 2000 the third-generation owner Liu Yu-pang took over. He has introduced new management concepts and gained certification under ISO (International Organization for Standardization) standards. What’s more, in 2004 the plant was certified by the US Food and Drug Administration, so that the company could formally start exporting to the United States. With the slogan “the good old flavor of the military dependents’ village” on their labels, the factory has been expanding production. And working with some small farmers, this year the firm has formally moved into organic food processing.

Even if technology is constantly advancing, Mingteh insists on using traditional fermentation methods. After a starting culture has been added, the beans sit in vats under the hot sun of southern Taiwan for 180 days. Every day the vats are stirred. Man and nature thus work together to create a delicious flavor.

A flavor that takes time

In business for 60 years, the Liu family uses traditional methods and excellent ingredients, letting time act as a catalyst to produce a paste whose rich flavor lingers on the palate and in memory.

The raw materials for bean paste are quite simple. Chili peppers, which Ming­teh has long bought from farms in ­Chiayi, Tai­nan, Kao­hsiung, Ping­tung and Tai­tung, provide the heat. Every year the company purchases mass quantities—some 200 metric tons—of chilies in season. The fresh chili peppers are first washed and minced before having salt added to them. After being sun-dried for six months, they are then mixed with fermented beans in proper proportions to create the firm’s famous “broad bean paste with chili.”

Mingteh uses imported American non-­genetically-modified soybeans, which provide a better fermented aroma. Because Si­chuan-style bean paste needs “broad beans” (fava beans) in the mix for the proper flavor, Ming­teh imports these from Australia. “Broad beans have a higher starch content, and a relatively mellow taste once you ferment them,” Liu Yu-pang explains. “Soybeans contain more protein and have a sweeter taste. By combining these two flavors, you get Ming­teh’s unique paste.” 

The soybeans and broad beans undergo separate cleaning and cooking before starter cultures are added. This is the most important step in the process of creating the company’s sauce, Liu emphasizes. If it isn’t done right, it doesn’t matter how well one handles the following stages.

Once the fermentation of the beans has been properly started, the next step is to pour the separately fermented soybeans and broad beans together into vats before adding brine and natural spices. The vats of beans have to bathe under the warm southern sun for 180 days. In a salty environment, enzymes will slowly break down the proteins and starches if given enough heat and enough time. They’ve also got to be stirred every day so the aroma of the bean paste can gradually form.

Sixteen years ago, when Liu returned home to learn the family business, the first thing that his father wanted him to learn was how to stir the vats. It’s far from an easy task. Every day the beans have got to be “stirred, mixed, turned and kneaded.” The beans at the very bottom of the vats must be moved to the top so that they can be exposed to air and fermentation can be completed.

Because the company insists on adhering to meticulous standards with regard to their raw materials and production processes, Ming­teh sailed through the various food safety scandals of recent years. Some consumers are beginning to exercise more caution about their food and paying more attention to purity. For instance, the Lee­zen organic food stores and the Homemakers Union Consumer Coop have sought out Ming­teh to process their foods. This has convinced Liu that Ming­teh made the right choice all along by insisting on high quality and exacting standards.

Mingteh embraces both old methods and new innovations. After the fermentation process has been completed, the company employs a mechanized production line to better control processes and quality. (courtesy of Mingteh Food)

Downhome Hakka flavor: Orange sauce

The chief ingredient of orange sauce is sour mandarin oranges (Citrus sunki). In a few locales, including ­Miaoli County, kumquats are used instead. Sour mandarins grow in the ­Xinpu‡­Guanxi area of Hsin­chu County. Because these mandarins are too sour to eat, thrifty Hakkas learned to boil them to use for a sauce. As a dipping sauce, it reduces the greasiness of meats, and it can help to sweeten vegetables. It’s a unique product of Taiwan’s ­Hakka communities.

The century-old Yi­shun Ice-Making Shop sells its orange sauce from its shop on ­Xinpu’s Cheng­gong Street. Its owner Chen Zhi­hong took the time to describe its history for us.

Yishun opened as a general store in the Japanese era. Back then the production of candies and other sugar goods was under the tight control of the government. These products weren’t easy to keep fresh, and once they got damp, they were impossible to sell. But Grandpa put on his thinking cap and tried selling popsicles. They were such an unexpected hit that he ended up closing his general store to focus on ice products. Later, at the introduction of a friend, he studied how to make orange sauce, and it provided him with another revenue stream. An unusual feature of Yi­shun is that it splits its business seasonally, selling ice products in the summer and orange sauce in the winter.

Lai Ying­nung is the proprietor of Ying­nung Foods, another ­Xinpu sauce maker. He showed us the orchards on the slopes behind his house. In September the sour mandarins there were only two centimeters wide with a deep green color. Lai says that they don’t ripen until December, when they turn orange. At harvest a single tree can yield 100 kilos or more.

Many years ago, his father abandoned his fruit trees after getting seriously injured in a road accident. Consequently, Lai himself harvested 2000 kilos of sour mandarins and brought them to a shop that used to turn them into orange sauce. But because he was inexperienced, many of the fruit he had picked were bruised or not ripe enough, so the shop sent them back. Lai decided he might as well try to turn them into orange sauce himself. Although orange sauce may be a common dipping sauce among ­Hakka families, it’s not a sauce that’s easy to make or copy. He groped his way forward for several years before he could get it just right for mass production.

Mingteh’s third-generation owner Liu Yu-pang takes great care in producing bean paste. His greatest wish is to restore integrity to the relationship between producer and consumer.

Making orange sauce

The process used by different orange sauce producers is pretty much the same. After the mandarins are washed, their fruit and peels are separated for processing. The seeds must be removed from the fruit. The scent of sour mandarins is largely found in the peel, but if the peel isn’t handled properly, it will make for a bitter sauce. They are then ground up and seasoned with chili pepper and salt, before being cooked and bottled. The whole process takes about four days.

Apart from using it as a dip for meat, vegetables, or cold tofu, or drizzling it over rice, there are many other ways to consume orange sauce. Whereas it used to be largely confined to Hakka cuisine, its sour and salty flavor is now finding widespread acceptance.

The century-old Yishun Ice-Making Shop sells ices in the summer and orange sauce in the winter. The photo shows three generations of the family that owns the shop.

An old sauce’s new flavors

Yishun has been in the same family for three generations. After Chen Zhi­hong took over, he grew frustrated that he couldn’t somehow combine orange sauce and ice products, the company’s two main lines of business. In a flash of inspiration, he started developing mandarin orange ices and began suggesting that his popsicle customers drizzle some of the shop’s own orange sauce on top. The two lines were thus combined. In the popsicles one can taste the actual fruit. When you dip it in the orange sauce, the effect of sweetness giving way to saltiness is quite marvelous.

When you ask Lai Ying­nung himself what his orange sauce tastes like, he smiles and says: “It’s the flavor of Hak­kas.” Famous restaurants, such as those found at The One: Land of Retreat and Wellness, as well as the chain Dian Shui Lou, use Ying­nung’s orange sauce. At the suggestion of friends, Lai has continued to develop new products, including an orange marmalade, an orange chocolate sauce and an orange and honey mixture. The aim is to get more people to embrace orange sauce.

Taste lodges itself deeply in memory. Back in the day Liu Ming-teh’s bean paste elicited memories of home in Si­chuan among the residents of Gang­shan’s military dependents’ villages. Today many beef noodle and hotpot joint proprietors ask Liu Yu-pang: “Will your family continue making your bean paste?” Their concern is rooted in their own businesses’ dependence on that sauce to maintain their dishes’ traditional flavors. Many Taiwanese who are living abroad buy several bottles of Lai Ying­nung’s orange sauce when they come back to visit, carrying a taste of their homeland back with them to places all over the world.

These culinary concoctions transcend being just old sauces. Their historical origins and special relationships to their locales give their flavors unique connections to time, family and memory. 

When sour mandarins ripen in December, they turn orange. At that point they’re ready to become orange sauce.

The photo shows the fruit in September. Lai Yingnung peels back the skin; the fruit is unripe and green, but the scent still floods the nostrils.

On an old street in Xinpu, a mom-and-pop store has laid out an array of Hakka food products. Orange sauce is an essential product in Hakka pantries.

When you dip pork belly in orange sauce, it loses its greasiness and tastes just right.